Content with Food and Drink

I'm well into the morning routine of language instruction, but this schedule leaves me a lot of free time. The program staff, in a kind-hearted effort to ease us into cultural activities and stave off days wasted on nonstop anime viewing, have arranged group events about every week and I have to say they're well worth the small extra expense.

First we went to a special cooking school ("Tokyo Gas," despite the fact that the stoves there are decidedly electric) and as the Martha Stewart stand-in demonstrated each step of the preparation we followed suit. The menu consisted of chirashi-zushi [a bowl-sized helping of vinegared sushi rice mixed with vegetable & egg pieces and topped with fresh salmon & shrimp] followed by sakuramochi [a thumb-sized lump of sweet red bean paste--which they say is an acquired taste but was immediately delicious--wrapped in a thin pink crepe and then a preserved cherry leaf].






"Not very much personal space...I must be in Japan. And just how am I supposed to pull the intestines out of this shrimp with such a dinky little stick?"











"Ahhh, lotus root. Finally, some breathing room and a real weapon in my hands. Too bad all the aprons weren't a proper, manly color."











"Careful, careful! Pour it all in, quick quick --that's it! Oh, well done! Well done!"
Instruction is only hands-on in the sense that student hands get to make the food, but at least they're generous with compliments.










"This leaf may look pretty, but whoever thought to pluck it off a tree, stick it in brine, and call it a garnish?"









Application: if you want to learn how to cook good Japanese food, buy an automatic stove with the snazziest timers and hire a maid. I'm only half kidding; in this land of specialization, there's a nationally administered proficiency test for personal cooking! Verdict: It was fun, but not exactly budget-level survival skills for a student kitchen.

Next up: the tea ceremony. Modestly subtitled as "the epitome of Japanese culture" in our student handbook, this ritual dates back 800 years and was summed up by our teacher in the phrase "ichi-go, ichi-e": one meeting at one time (and never to be reproduced again). There's quite a bit of Buddhist philosophy underpinning this, but suffice it to say that life is short and everything changes, so every second with company should be treasured. Such valuation is conveyed in the unhurried pace as well as the painstaking attention to traditional details--one's dress, the serving utensils and bowls, the room decorations (all of which are coordinated with the current season)--and above all the courtesy and generosity toward others contained in polite expressions of thankfulness, proper posture, and deep bows.

This tea sensei has conducted several ceremonies for California university students and thus was quite lenient with us about matters of dress and sitting position. Technically we should have been required to wear yukata [light summer kimono] or formal Western clothes, but the only stipulated item was a pair of fresh, clean socks. We were also able to sit cross-legged if we so desired, but the standard is seiza [kneeling while sitting directly on your feet, hands folded in your lap, and keeping your back straight but not stiff]. I was fine like this until I had to get up and awaken my legs--twenty minutes on bamboo wicker flooring was longer than I realized!

First we were served a sweet, delicately shaped like a firework, which had to be taken from the serving bowl with chopsticks in a fixed fashion (right hand lifts the pair from above, left hand comes from beneath and gently holds the other end, etc.) and set onto a sheet of paper in front of us before partaking. Before even this, though, each person had to bow to the next in line, acknowledging the privilege of getting to come first. This was followed by a bowl of bitter green tea, placed before us by charming young students and accepted with another bow.

The kids were well-trained (note their proper posture, even when off-duty) and fun conversation partners afterwards. The ceremony is considered such a high art that children usually begin studying around 5 or 6 at the latest--try putting that on your American resume!

All in all, I was quite taken with the calm environment and deliberate sensory enjoyment, as well as the respect for each participant. It's not unlike the feeling you get from gazing out over a mountain lake in the evening before the sun burns up the clouds (just add leg pains). I hope to further adopt this attitude of valuing every moment with others, though as an anthropologist I can't say the ritual sums up the entire culture. How simple are the elements of sustenance that bring us together...