From the Block

Grill a chicken thigh with salt and pepper till its skin turns a crispy amber, and I WILL SHOW UP.

If you are worried that Japan has forgotten how to have a good time, it hasn't. Shortly after our return, we went to a Children's Day festival in Takanawa. Lots of stalls with food and toys. This meant all kinds of begging from the kids. And me. The Professor gave in, needless to say. First came the ridiculously juicy and crusty chicken.

There is no way to do this at home--it has to be a big, sketchy grill.

Then the toys. Son of Z. talked his way into a ray-gun that lights up and makes a very loud noise that is the precise sound of parental buyer's remorse. Mini Z. went for the traditional mask.

It's a mask of Hello Kitty wearing a mask of Ultra Man. Very meta.

 Then more chicken. This time from the lovely little Portuguese place down the street. Several restaurants from the neighborhood set up stalls with all kinds of goodies. The Portuguese chicken was more garlicky and charred--very nice. The same restaurant had a guy carving prosciutto from one of those stands. In my dream home, there is a similar set-up on the coffee table, right next to the remote.

Delicious chicken--but what to do with the one skewer?

Street prosciutto! I can't believe we beat New York to this.

Baby octopi on a stick!

Big 'ol tub of margarine--not butter--at the hot potato stand.

 Then I saw the cake van. CAKE VAN. Why can't I be abducted in one of these?

Tragically, they were out of cake. Really. I was forced to look longingly at photos of their usual selections. So now I have to get all stalker and track them down at their next venue, when the whole point of the cake van is that the cake comes to you. Damn you, cake van.

Pumpkin cheesecake, chocolate torte, baked cheesecake, and what, some kind of custardy thing? Curses!

Truck Chicken

The siren call of fried chicken!

We were in the Roppongi Hills shopping complex, minding our own business, actually planning a modest picnic of our own (rice balls, edamame, no big). I saw some food trucks, so I did the stroll-by, just sort of sniffing the air. It turned out the om-rice truck (omelet filled with rice--I know!) was doing a brisk business in boneless fried chicken thighs sprinkled with Japanese sea salt, you know, the fancy sea salt that looks a bit like dirty beach sand but tastes extra briny.

Check out the hip daddy-o waiting on his chicken and om-rice.

The thigh meat is sort of flattened out, which solves the centuries old conundrum of the uneven crispy coating to juicy meat ratio.  Science, people. Science. It was piping hot, and the crust was somewhere between the lightness of tempura and the crunch of southern fried chicken which eludes me in my own kitchen.

I only regret that I don't know where this truck is at all times. Though maybe that's best.

Autumn Delights

Matsutake mushrooms

Today is the anniversary of my dear pals, the Mysterious Dr. and Mrs. V. Unfortunately, they may not be able to spend the day together, due to family craziness. And since the lady of the house is all about autumnal fare, I send her a special foodie shout-out.

Matsutake mushrooms are the truffle of Japan, except when truffles are the truffles of Japan. These seriously earthy fungi show up in the fall and cause a big fuss. The package above is not the most expensive on the market, but yes, the price tag says 8,000 yen, or about $100 US. I know. It's a lot of cash for a mushroom that won't get you high. But they are truly delicious--rich and aromatic. Mostly they are grilled over a fire or cooked with rice, which is how I had mine this year--a bargain at about 700 yen. So tender and meaty, these little guys. And the sticky rice just absorbs all that beautiful flavor.

Matsutake-gohan with golden ginko nuts

The mushroom madness doesn't stop there. Enoki, eringi, maitake, shitake, shimeji, tameko, the list goes on! With this kind of variety, one can skip those sketchy mushroom picking jaunts into the woods, which, let's face it, is basically mushroom roulette. You have to consider whether or not you are okay with the phrase "mushroom picking mishap" in your obituary. Why not leave it to the experts? A friend of mine actually just went to a restaurant that does an all-mushroom hot-pot, which, it turns out, is fantastic.

Mushroom bonanza at the supermarket

Shimeji mushrooms and spinach sauteed with white sesame

This truck was parked outside a train station, and the sign called to me. A squirrel with a doughnut. Of course. And what kind did they reel me in with? Dark-roasted sesame. Yeah. It actually won out over the sweet potato and pumpkin varieties.

This is the road-trip vehicle we have been searching for.

Damn you, doughnut squirrel.

It's like someone is reading the Mysterious Dr. and Mrs. V's minds. And then making little baked doughnuts that are both pound-cakey and springy. And the cuteness. The cuteness is draining my life force.

Ichiro likes them in the off-season.

Train Treats: Tamachi

This crazy space egg is actually a hot dog stand, solving at last the age old problem of hot dog stands not being at all cute. Or that clean. Two of these adorable little shops face each other right in the station once you are through the turnstile at Tamachi on the Yamanote train line. Which is perfect when you are running late for work. Hot dogs are a breakfast option in Japan--I know, it sounds nuts at first, like how Alyssa Milano had a record deal here in the 90s. But really, it's sausage, bread, sometimes cheese--breakfast! It doesn't hurt that the dogs here are hammy and snappy, which is nice in the morning.

 I love the surrealist pastoral display. Especially since some of the little pigs have ribbon collars. By far the best styled hot dog ever.

The other stand is staffed by an identically dressed and pony-tailed woman. I think at a certain time each day they rumble. But this one sells waffles! Breakfast again? Not so much. Mostly these are considered sweet treats here, and they are nearly always Belgian style (ie. not the ice cream and syrup smothered kind I used to pass out into in Brooklyn).

 So many flavors! Plain, maple, strawberry, cream cheese, honey-lemon, chocolate... there are even bite-sized ones, though they were sold out this time. The minis, or "puchi" as they are called in imitation of the French petit, are rice flour based, which makes them chewy and soft, kind of like a french twist doughnut, but less airy. Tossed in table sugar, they are a delight. This is why they sell out.

 Tai Puchi is the name on this little truck parked outside the station most weekday afternoons. They sell mini versions of an old fashioned Japanese sweet, tai yaki. They are only shaped like sea bream, or tai. Inside they are filled with sweet bean. Usually they are a little smaller than your hand, but this truck sells bite-sized ones with a bevy of fillings. The sign on the passenger window is for green apple cream.

I have a hard time resisting tai yaki anyway, but making them tiny leaves me entirely helpless before them. So light and pancakey! I went with the traditional bean, plus chocolate and vanilla cream. Carrying the paper bag of hot, fresh little fish reminded me of picking up zeppole--you have to pop at least one in your mouth right away, all warm and sweet. Then you listen to them moving lightly in the bag all the way home. If three or four make it to the rest of your family, well, that's a moral victory.