Dear Tony 11: A Tale of Two Meals
Dear Tony,
It’s no secret that I love cooking.
There’s something about the pure form of love that is providing a meal to another person. It’s the labor that’s involved. It’s the artistry and science to blend flavors. It’s the execution and timing.
I also revel in the hosting abilities of being the one to provide the meal; setting conversations, keeping drinks flowing, and bellies full.
To present a plate of food is a complete form of art.
But to feed a hungry human is to provide love.
I’ve never asked for payment to cook meals. I’ve never considered it a profession. It’s a form of gift-giving that I use to show my gratitude; to bring friends to share the same table and enjoy their company.
It’s with that thesis that I spent May 13th cooking a hotpot [and sautéed broccoli] for the Sakura Hostel in Asakusa. The building, like any well groomed hostel, is filled with friendly and fascinating travelers from around the globe. I had spent the last week getting to know many of them and a percentage were leaving presently.
Why make dinner though? Well, to gather the group, to flex some cooking skills, to make the photo wall, to revel in my friendships, and to celebrate a wonderful performance from a hardworking and skilled artist on the wadaiko drums. I get a bunch of ingredients from the staff and proceed to assign multiple tasks of chopping, prepping, frying, and peeling.
It’s fun; we collectively add labor to the meal. 5 heads and stems of sautéed broccoli, cooked in batches to avoid overcrowding the pan. A hot pot of browned chicken, enoki, shitake mushrooms, tofu, lettuce, fish, carrots, potatoes, sautéed onions in a miso-chicken fat stock.
It’s rewarding; the final result was delicious and able to provide second helpings for the dozen people gathered plus two more for the staff on duty.
It’s expanding; I love showing people how to peel broccoli stem and make it a delectable side dish. Or the empowerment of cleaning fish. Or the deliciousness of browning the chicken and then using the fond.
Side note, anyone who volunteers to do dishes after a meal is a plus 1 in my book. That’s the excellence of someone who shows gratitude for what they have.
As the hotpot finishes cooking on the table, I pop a bottle of champagne [my favorite; shout out ShipFam and Elyna and Bodo for the koozie] and crack an icebreaker. The answers of ice cream, Harry Potter Houses, interesting facts go around as I simultaneously engage in follow up questions where I have them and serve bowls of steaming soup to the table.
I’m in peak form, completely centered, enveloped in light, and generously pouring it into the stomach of my friends.
The next day, I sit down with Professor Machida and his wife Akiko in Nagareyama-ōtakanomori [A neighborhood outside Toyko center] for a lunch omakase.
Oh. My. God.
If the hotpot was cooking; this was a symphonic orchestra playing a concerto. The 6 courses are platforms, stages to a wide variety of ingredients, flavors, textures, ceramics, sensory engagements.
A non-exhaustive list of experiences:
A miso-stuffed baby squid that started drooling-ly sweet and finishing satisfyingly salty.
A bite of octopus that had the texture of waygu beef; melting into each chew; tantalizing.
A single enormous sweet red bean; complimenting a perfectly cooked, fresh hunk of seabream.
The most savory, soft, sweet pork belly topped with a dollop of pungent Dijon mustard. A perfect combination.
The tacky chew of the Kuzumochi with molasses and soybean powder is almost sinfully slurp-able, like the sweet cousin of the jellyfish. [I believe it’s made from the starch of the Japanese Arrowroot.]
At the very end of it, I was treated to a journey; an experience that could be unique in my life; backpacking in Japan, being treated to a Omakase of the highest quality, drunk on delicious sake, with friends that I am privileged to know.
And so in some way, the gifts I gave not 24 hours earlier; came back. Where I was the one serving my best to provide an experience to those strangers I did not quite know but dearly valued; so was the roles reversed as a wonderful army of humans from the chef and the staff to the dear friends, Professor Machida and Akiko, treated me to the best full meal I’ve had in Japan [so far!]
That beautiful circle reminded me to continue to be generous. That I am blessed with levels of privilege that I did not earn but fully take advantage of, as I travel a foreign country; seeking myself and fellow travelers.
That food and travel in all its levels holds power to make things wonderful.
I hope you’re still reading Tony. I hope you know we still eat and drink to you. And find joy in each other’s company.
Love,
Winston
