More Blossoms!

The fleeting beauty of the cherry blossom. Is it wrong that I want to eat it?

The cherry blossom juggernaut continues to roll on through Tokyo, and I am not helping matters, folks. Every minute a seasonal item sucker is born, and that would be me. Tell me bricks are only going to be around for two weeks, and I will eat one. Fried. So when every shop on the street starts hawking sakura goodies, I'm in.

The wabi-sabi, bittersweet beauty of spring...in doughnut form.

Wait, is that a... yes, it is. It's a sakura glazed doughnut with a little flower on it. Yes, I had to know. And yes, it rocked. It may not have been hot from the fryer, (which has been scientifically proven to turn even a modest doughnut into an EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE) but it was fresh with that slightly crisp edge and springy, moist inside that is the hallmark of a good cake doughnut. And the glaze was not overpowering with blossom. Hands down, it was the most romantic doughnut I have ever eaten, which is saying something given my idea of romance. Granted, I paid about four US dollars for it at one of Doughnut Plant NYC's Tokyo outposts, and I could have put myself into a diabetic coma with four dollars in Queens back in the day, but I am at peace with that. Because I am ready to respect the doughnut as fine pastry. And because of that thing I mentioned before about being a sucker.

Jellies with flowers and butterflies suspended inside. Somewhere, a pineapple Jello mold weeps.

Under all that cream, sakura chocolate petals, and petal-shaped berries is the softest sponge cake ever, layered with berries and more sakura cream. Zen restraint is overrated.

The cakes and parfaits may not be traditional either, but don't hate. The jelly roll you remember from the shoddy supermarket bakery--the sticky yellow cake that looked like it was rolled by a carnie with one hand working the cotton candy spinner--has been reborn in Japan as something impossibly light and delicate. So, too, have puddings and jellies (made here with plant-based gelatin, not Seabiscuit) been restored to their former glory.

The array of things to whip up at home is endless, too. I made it home without the salt and the rice, but I think I will be back for the jam, which has petals in it and makes a lovely hot drink when you add water. So glamorous--the kind of thing I would put on my J. Lo-esque contract rider. You know, white sofa, Diptyque candles, and cherry blossom jam tea in my dressing room. And no one looks me directly in the eye.

Sakura salt

and rice!

Sakura jam/tea--very post-Cosmopolitan.