Well, This Is Awkward.

 Valentine's Day is actually a thing in Japan, though with a twist: it's the day when women give men chocolates. I know. A month later, we have White Day (why stop at one made up holiday?), when men give women chocolates and/or gifts. The problem is that the Valentine's stuff is clearly more interesting, particularly since white chocolate abounds for White Day, and I am not so into it. Plus, it gives men the upper hand--if you already know what her gift is, say, a month in advance, then you can match it without worry. No risk of going overboard or looking cheap. Even though girlfriends might score some goodies, wives routinely get ripped off, which is just wrong. Call it a cultural difference if you want to, but when a woman is denied gifts of chocolate, I call that oppression.

I like the idea of conversation hearts, but not the taste. So I made these awkward conversation heart cookies. I feel like they would actually be helpful in some situations. Although in some cases, you are going to need a much bigger cookie.

And now some uncomfortable moments brought to you by the sweets aisle at the convenience store.

 

Where to begin. They are actually kind of a cookie coated with a Nestle-crunch-type chocolate. The Crunky bar is basically crispy rice and milk chocolate, and I think the name is meant to suggest crunchiness, as opposed to Mary J. Blige's "Doesn't matter if you're white or black/Let's get crunked 'cause Mary's back." But what the unfortunate choice of "Nude" is meant to tell us, I have no idea.

Speaking of racial politics. That's a chocolate melon pan-- a sweet-crusted bun--that shows through the package as a fro. (Oh, and for a great poem about Afros, check this out.) I actually think there should be more Black Power snacks.  And this one is so Mod Squad. And tasty. What bothers me is the idea of eating something that doubles as hair on the package. See what I mean? Awkward.

They Are Not Playing Around at the New Mitsukoshi

Lurid piles of kimchee and other Korean delights at the new Mitsukoshi

Department store basements in Tokyo are a cornucopia of yumminess from all over--iterations of foreign and Japanese foods spill forth from the stalls, many of which change week to week. The hawkers (upscale hawkers with nice clean aprons, mind you) often ply one with samples on little plates or proffered toothpicks. Mitsukoshi, that famous department store at the main intersection in Ginza, has incredible "depachika" floors, as they are known (depa= department, chika=underground), and may forever ruin your enjoyment of weekend samples of frozen taquitos at Costco. The new Mitsukoshi branch is just around the corner from the original, and is something like a Death Star--not a real planet, but capable of tremendous things.

About those samples: I am powerless before them. Note the little cups of picks in the lower left corner of the kimchee photo. This is a system that relies equally upon honor and an assumed sense of personal shame. Sometimes this stymies me--how many varieties of pickles, or chocolate, or ham, for example, can one nibble at one stall before one is obligated to either purchase something or slink away? Luckily, I have plenty of experience feeding my feelings, so when I get nervous, I just buy something tasty. 

Mom's favorite--satsuma-age--mild, fluffy fish cakes. These here are made with onion and bacon.

More fried goodness: shimeji mushrooms and pumpkin.

And yet, the sample is a double-edged sword. Or toothpick. Because you also need to be strong in the face of samples you do not want. That whole thing about the Japanese being non-aggressive falls apart here. You don't colonize half of Asia without being a little pushy, folks. Once, when snacking my way through a depa-chika with a Canadian friend, I was presented with a stewed grasshopper on a toothpick. The little old lady had jammed the toothpick in my hand saying, "Inago! Oishii!" At that time, I knew oishii meant tasty, but the very important noun before it--not so much. It was almost in my mouth before I realized what it was. I couldn't insult the lady, and I was not about to back down in front of a Canadian. The grasshopper was not bad, after all--something like the small, sharp-shelled shrimp cooked in heavy soy sauce and sugar for new year's--but I didn't feel the need to bring any home.

Italian delicacies, including breaded cutlets and tripe

Ham and cheese rolled up, breaded, and fried. The Professor calls this "haute trailer."

Nothing beats a bag full of depa-chika treats when you don't feel like cooking. It's a game changer, since all the delights you are never going to cook at home (deep frying? whole duck on a hook?) suddenly become options for a weeknight. 

Char-siu pork and roast Chinese duck

Um, those are huge sushi rolls wrapped in plump, succulent, cooked and shelled crab legs.

The gentleman above is working in a plexiglass booth, like a culinary David Blaine, but not creepy. This draws a crowd now and then, since rolling up those massive crab futo-maki is a feat. It's engrossing watching someone truly skilled up close. I once stood in a supermarket with a crowd of housewives watching a whole tuna being filleted with what could only be called a sword. Now that was a show.

A sandwich shop's open-faced display case

Spicy ham and cheese baked in french bread

Over-specialization is not a problem for me. The shop below deals only in sweet potatoes, which are displayed on a bed of hot stones in a glass case. Some are yellow and chestnutty inside, and some, native to Okinawa, are a crazy, bright purple.  They sell them baked, or in the form of puddings, yokkan (blocks of pureed bean or potato cooked with sugar), and tiny, dense cakes that are moist like cheesecake, but even less Atkins friendly.

Yakimo! A high-end display of the baked sweet potatoes often sold from trucks.

Sweet potato confections

When it comes to pastry, French is king in Japan (sorry, Italy and Austria). And like so many things, Japan has taken the refinements and the presentation and run with them, sometimes surpassing the original. (Sorry, France.) The little individual cakes, puddings, and tarts are like jewels under glass. Pretty, pretty, pretty. Who could not feel joy looking at all those little pastel macaroons? Of course they get a Japanese twist, with flavors like green tea and yuzu citron. Watching Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette, which was a huge hit with the ladies here, it occurred to me that a life spent eating colorful desserts and trying on endless pairs of shoes might actually be enough to make me happy. In that moment, I knew the depths of my shallowness. Thanks a lot, Sofia.

Meringues! Mont blanc! Strawberries and spongecake!

Let them eat macaroons! You know, the whole "let them eat cake" thing was only mean because she didn't actually come through with the cake. Seriously, a basket of muffins. Something.

Double-cream puffs with whipped cream and airy custard; delicate roll cakes filled with fruit and cream

The Latest Happy New Year Ever

Ozoni, mochi soup to start the year off right.

Happy Year of the Rabbit! All the more important now that the zodiac has been thrown into upheaval, don't you think? Actually, I am early by the lunar calendar, which is also my standing excuse for missed birthdays and such. We spent New Year's eve on the plane back to Tokyo from California, hurtling toward the international dateline. The celebrating we did a couple of days earlier at my mom's, with the traditional ozoni soup. It's a very light and clear dashi broth with bamboo shoots, carrots, greens, mushrooms, and mochi rice cakes. The mochi gets hot and gooey, like mozzarella on steroids, which is fun to slurp at, especially for the kids. I've seen warnings on Japanese TV about the choking hazard for the elderly around the end of the year, and I can see why. This time Mom did seaweed broth instead of fish, since my soul-sister Monster S, who was in attendance with her homemade Korean fried noodles with tofu, is vegetarian. Mom even cut the carrots into little flowers, which Mini Z loved. Mochi is deceptively simple, and once its density becomes apparent, about two bites in, one is grateful the soup is not heavy. Besides, the brightness of the vegetables is such a treat in the middle of the winter. Even in LA.

Tofu japchae and a side of kimchee

So good. And japchae is not something in my repetoire, which makes it even more of a treat. Monster S stood over the pan with chopsticks and wooden spoons, pulling sesame-slicked noodles and vegetables into the air and tossing them. The smell in the house was so rich and wonderful. We were actually to full to eat it and so waited until the kids had gone to bed a few hours later to dig in. You have to do noodles on New Year's, and in Japan we do buckwheat soba--long noodles for long life. As a kid, I hated the obligatory shot of sake from the sharp, flat little silver cups that sat in the cupboard all year. As with most things that took a lot of explanation, we were just told it was good luck. Then we sat down to a big bowl of noodles at midnight.

That Old Chestnut

Candied chestnuts! 

Winter is always the humble chestnut's moment. You can get them hot in a paper bag on a corner in New York or outside the kabuki theater in Ginza. There are cones of marrons glacee in sweet shops, along with the standard montblanc dessert topped with chestnut puree. The Japanese and the French share a serious appreciation for the chestnut, along with, come to think about it, quality handbags and Jean Reno. The yummy marrons above were so creamy and sweet all the way through, but without the slightest stickiness. Table sugar! It makes these dun-colored little morsels sparkle like sugarplums in a storybook, without messing with the richness.

Yaki-kuri wagashi 

This is Japan's spin on things--a wagashi sweet made from roasted chestnut puree. Like its wagashi brethren, it's really down to the pure essence of the nut. You can see how the shape was made by pinching it in fabric to make the creases. Half the fun of these things for me is squinting at them and figuring out how they were formed. The top of this one was torched just a little to give it that charred flavor. Amazing contrast to the sweetness. Plus, I love those little mini-butane torches--it's like you're pulling a teeny-tiny bank job.

Pretty Pop-Tops

Sake to go!

If John Galliano can't make homelessness fabulous, how can the rest of us even hope to look good drinking from a paper bag? And after a certain age, those red plastic cups just make you look like the house mother at the kegger. What to do? Once, on a Metro North train, my mother saw Spalding Gray open up up a briefcase, take out a cut crystal tumbler, and pour himself a scotch. A bit too far into dandy/lush territory, perhaps, but he had the right idea. Prettier cups, folks. They take outdoor drinking from the curb in front of the OTB to the rolling lawns of Tanglewood. Especially in Japan, a country where you can buy a One Cup pop-top sake on a train platform--should we drink so close to the train tracks?--an attractive container may be all that stands between you and the guy with the pull-cart covered in dirty stuffed animals.

Commemorative sake from Yoshitomo Nara's "A to Z" exhibition

Look at the sweet-as-hell Yoshitomo Nara cups above. Granted, it's a little creepy to package booze with cartoon children and puppies, but creepy is kind of his thing, right? Cute/threatening,  pre-adolescent rebellion, etc.--it takes me back. Plus, I am biased since some of his images bear eerie resemblance to Mini Z...

Even ama-zake, a sweet, thick sake that's lovely in the winter, comes in the microwaveable glass pop-top! If you like hard cider, then this may be your sake. I once had it on a stroll through a plum orchard--there you are, enjoying seasonal blossoms, your cup steaming--I am about an inch away from joining the throngs of retired Japanese people who seem to be forever traveling to this or that garden in beige bucket hats.

These two from Hokkaido are killing me with their cuddly arctic labels. I especially like that the penguins are followed by a horde of tourists--because that would be me, captured for posterity in my bulky parka.. Why should beer and wine bottles have all the fun with cute labels? No need to be so serious, sake enthusiasts! After all, it is the traditional booze of the land that posts all those adorable cat videos on YouTube..

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.