
Avoiding the Comfort of Fear
...written on 2001-02-04, @ 14:33:14
Tales of Kim's Life in Japan
Sun February 4, 2001
One day, Lana and I had spent the day together doing errands and exploring downtown Ogaki. It was a little after 5:00 and we were hungry.
I was debating about where to go. Should we go somewhere new and risk not knowing what we were ordering or go to Shirokiya where the menu has pictures and I knew what to recommend? We were on the corner, I could have gone either way. I asked Lana and she opted for the familiar and I was about to go that way, but in an instant I decided that I couldn't afford to let either of us become comfortable with having fear of trying something new. I turned right and we went in to a tiny restaurant.
The restaurant had just opened, so we were the first customers of the day. We sat down at the bar around the cooking area. I looked at the menu. It was entirely in kanji, even the numbers, so not only did we not know what was on the menu, we didn't know how much it cost.
We ordered drinks and some boiled soybeans as we tried to figure out what could be had to eat here. I asked the waiter his name, 'Eisuke', he said. I asked what kind of food they had and I heard him say noodles. I asked Lana what she was in the mood for and she said 'vegetables'. So Eisuke and I and then the "Master" or owner of the store, tried to figure out what we wanted and how to reconcile it with what they had.
The Master, Tagaki-san, stir fried some veggies for us and we dug in. It was very delicious. More customers came in and I saw Master making something familiar on the grill. "Is that okonomiyaki?" I asked. Master nodded in agreement. I asked Lana if she'd like to give that a try. We decided on a tuna and kimchee okonomiyaki. It took a long time to cook and Takagi-san made it like it was an art piece. It was great and Lana was curious about what he put on top. It looked like a mound of rice crispies that he then dripped okonomiyaki mix over to bind it together and then flipped over to cook.
When it was finished cooking, he asked us if we wanted seaweed on it, 'no' we said. He asked us if we wanted mayonnaise on it, 'no' again, then he asked us if we wanted fish flakes on it. We again said 'no', but I think by then we had overstepped the boundary of his okonomiyaki-wa and he clucked his tongue, gave us a small saucer of fish flakes on the side and said to use them because they were 'oiishi' (delicious). It was true. The fish flakes added a smoky flavor to the crispy okonomiyaki which is also known as a kind of "japanese pizza".We enjoyed the food and the attention very much and bowed deeply on our way out, promising to be back.
I went back a few days later with a Japanese friend and had him thank Master for making us that special vegetable dish and delicious okonomiyaki (o.). Lana and I then went back for another tuna and kimchee (TKO) on Friday.
At that time, Master gave us some free oden. Now, oden is mostly just fish paste and this oden had the consistency of a ground-up hot dog put loosely back together. We ate it out of courtesy, but neither of us really liked it. The TKO was as good as the last time though. Master also gave us a big bag of those rice crispee thingees which were little bits of fried o. mix. Lana wants to make TKO at home.
He was so very nice to us that after we left, I went to Yanagen and bought some ichigo daifuku (strawberries wrapped in mochi) and delivered them later on in the evening.
I asked Fred to translate the menu for us so we know what we can get the next time we go, though I'm sure Lana will go for the TKO again.
I want to build relationships with people like Takagi-san and Hideki, my hairdresser, my mailman etc. I think that makes the overseas experience really special. Over the years I have enjoyed looking at the pictures I took of the different people I met, talked and did business with in Okayama fifteen years ago; the crew at the Post Office, "Ma & Pa Fuji" where I went to get my film developed, the Bicycle man and his wife. They touched my life and I want to remember them.