Saturday, December 31, 2011

More to eat on New Year's Eve

When we get down in America, we get down. When there is a party or event to be had, we go balls-out when it comes to food. We wrap shit in bacon, we deep fry things that are technically speaking, a cookie, we invent new animals because apparently nature failed to supply something savory enough (see: Turducken - A turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken)



Turducken: Because God completely failed to predict the American palate - omniscient my ass



And even after creating that poultry-based version of the Human Centipede we somehow decide that that still isn't enough so we wrap a turducken in bacon to create a turbaducken:



When your holiday meal is one participant up on the monstrosity created in "Human Centipede (First Sequence)" you know you are on to something truly special

Now let us take a moment to consider the Japanese New Year's meal. We have already seen that it starts with a bit of soba (which is a buckwheat noodle for the record).

Next we move on to the main course:






We put a chicken in a duck in a turkey. Here it is tuna, squid, and flounder...in small portions...with no bacon. We can now officially stop doing news broadcasts wondering why we are so fat and just look at this picture.


Here is the main dish we all get...



7 things not to bring to a tailgate outside San Francisco.

More more more...later later later...

Toshi Koshi Soba

年越しそば (Toshikoshi soba - lit. beyond the year soba) is a common dish to eat on New Year's eve. The reason for soba is that it is long and thin - which is how your life should be. Long and not too strenuous. The opposite would be a fat and thick life, for which we turn to James Dean as our model.



The noodles represent your ideal way of living



He represents the opposite of soba noodles.

New Year's Countdown

Well, it's that time of year again - 御正月 (Oshougatsu - New Year!) The time of year where we look back and reflect on all that has passes in the past year: The great earthquake in Hokuriku, the epic collapse of the Red Sox in September, and the passing of Kim Jong-Il (or as reported in the North Korean news "Dear Leader Heroically Slain Single-Handedly Defending Our Glorious Paradise Against a Horde of 50 Meter Ameri-Bots")

And New Year's means eating and drinking until both activities seem repulsive to you at which point you continue to do both.

It all started with a trip to the Nishiki (錦) Market in Kyoto. This market is open year-round, but becomes more clogged that Uncle Phil's arteries after 55 years of triple cheese burgers around New Year's.



This picture completely undercuts my above statement, but you can just make out where the crowd starts beyond the shoe store, and you can see that there this isn't exactly a wide open passage that allows for throngs to easily maneuver.

Now after 8 years in Japan, I thought I had a pretty good handle on most of the culinary offerings of Japan, but my "I know what that is" ratio dropped to about 1:2 at this market. There was 海鼠 (namako - sea cucumber, though the kanji literally read as "sea rat"). There were half-quails roasted, white miso, pickled EVERYTHING, fish heads, dried fish on sticks, cod roe, pollack roe, herring roe, duck, sweets, $800 pots and pans, every form of seaweed known to human kind, green tea of all kinds, black bean tea, and my favorite - Octopus lollipops (Where the head was made of a boiled quail egg and the legs were the legs of a miniature octopus.)



This is the treat that kids were clamoring for at the market, while in the US our kids beg for cotton candy and orange soda...and guess whose kids will get early-onset diabetes, and whose will live to 142...just guess.

More as the night goes on...

Pornography and Marijuana: All you need to know about dressing for school

Middle schools in Japan go all in for the uniform (as most pedophiles will attest to). The uniform isn't just a ordination of what you can where, it is also a list of prohibitions against what you can not wear. For example, despite the sub-zero temperatures we have recently experienced, the middle school students at one school I work at are forbidden from wearing hats. Mind you this is not just in class, but extends to the walk from home to school. Now, the idea that cold weather will make you sick has been thoroughly debunked. However it is a well stated scientific fact that cold weather is cold. So while perhaps it isn't causing any adverse effects health-wise, it does seem a pointless stipulation to prevent kids from being warm while walking to school.

All this goes to say, that kids have very little latitude for self-expression when it comes to being around their peers at school. One place that students do have free reign is in their pencil cases and their socks. And the children have chosen...let's say...poorly.

On the pencil case front, while there are plenty of sports-themed and cute-themed, and inexplicably-humanized-object-themed pencil cases to chose from.



This pencil case answers the long-asked question: Just how close can you get to copy-right infringement before Disney will send Mickey over to personally cram a cease-and-desist order up your ass? The answer is "A handful of letters, a definite article, and a red shirt."

However, one of the more popular symbols on the pencil cases of many students is a nice big marijuana leaf. Not that it comes on the pencil cases as-is, but is usually applied afterwords as a sticker. Now before you just assume that these kids are all getting higher than the Sky Tree after school, it should be pointed out that they more-likely-than-not have absolutely no idea what the sticker is. My guess is that they think it is a Japanese maple leaf:


guess which one gets you high: that's right, the maple leaf, because I get high on life man...

Let's move on to socks. Now this applies to the girls, where one of the most popular embroideries you will find on middle school girls' socks is the Playboy bunny. Again, I think they have no idea that their hard-earned sock-yen are going into the pockets of this man:



That's right Mariko, your socks paid for the pills I will take that will allow me to do unspeakable things to these three later. Thanks!



Friday, December 23, 2011

What happened?

So looking at the blog it was shocking to realize that over three months have passed since my last update. So what happened?! Well, a number of things have transpired since I last wrote about America's penchant for waste lines measures in the kind of numbers usually reserved for intergalactic measurements.

1) *** ***: This is secret at least for another month, but once the necessary people have been informed I can delve into this in more detail. Needless to say that the number of asterisks are an accurate representation of how many letters are involved.

2) Stand up comedy! I have been fulfilling a life-long dream of performing stand up comedy in a country that doesn't speak English.

3) Real Estate transactions! I bought a house! Ok, so it is an apartment, but it is still property ownership which necessarily comes with enough bureaucracy to choke a horse.

4) NFL! It is (American) football time back in the mother country and my team continues to fail to suck, which means I have to devote unconscionable amounts of time to watching them throw the balls to each other and then listen to other ex-players talk for hours about what that all means.

5) Adaptation! One of the problems with living in a strange and wholly foreign country like Japan is that the longer you spend here the less strange it seems. After a year and a half, even the most insane things become routine and slip past the "this should go on the blog" filter.

Anyhow - more about all these things coming soon since I am on break until 1/6/12 and have officially run out of excuses.

Friday, October 7, 2011

International House of Me

Let's start with a disclaimer: I have never been to a World's Fair in any other country. I was not alive for St. Louis, Chicago, Paris, London, New York, or any of the other events where nations from around the globe spent huge sums on temporary structures to show off some innovation of often dubious interest or value to all but the most dedicated fans of said nation (or drunk people, let's not forget those stalwarts of indiscriminate opinions). So let me say that the following commentary on the only such event I have ever been to is made in somewhat of a bubble.

The other day I was scanning back through old photos from a life back when I carried about 15 pounds less on my frame and considered my personal level of awesome to be a bit higher. I like to use nostalgia as a form of self-flagellation. One event I was scanning through was the Aichi Banpaku (Banpaku = exposition, Aichi = Nagoya = Japan's 3rd largest city that you have possibly never heard of, but is the source of the Canadian accents in the Japanese dub of South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut - use that fun fact at your next cocktail party to guarantee you will be found repulsive to the opposite sex - Japanalog: your personal digital contraceptive).

Where were we...oh, yes. So I was looking at pictures of the Aichi Expo from 2005.

Now in Japan, this expo was a pretty big event. There was a clock in Osaka near the main station counting down the days. There were daily news updates on the construction, and once open, on the attendance. There were features and every TV show worth its salt did some special episode from there. There were also two green balls of lint serving as mascots.


remember someone was paid a assload of money to create these two turds who resemble nothing more than a pair of moldy toilet scrubbers

They were green because they were ecological and friends of the Earth. The whole event was called Aichi-kyu - a clever portmanteau of Aichi (the prefecture) and Chikyu (Earth) where the "Ai" of Aichi means "love" so the name was "Love the Earth" - And nothing says that like creating 490 acres of temporary structures. While (in their defense) the structures were carefully constructed to be made of recycled and recyclable materials, the approximately 7 trillion pieces of merchandised Morizo and Kiccoro crap including (but not limited to) keychains, cellphone straps, plastic hand-fans, towels, plastic figurines, medallions, T-shirts, lanyards, ashtrays, hats, sweat bands, CDs, featuring the expo theme-song 'I'll be Your Love', enema kits, condoms, make-up cases, pencil cases, watches, eye masks, slippers, vibrators, cigarette cases, flasks, home poker kits, pens, pencils, laptop bags, stuffed dolls, pillows, throat lozenges, tampons, pneumatic drills, pruning shears, and asshole detectors (only half of that list was made up) are all most certainly sitting at the bottom of a landfill, or (given that this is Japan) currently floating around the atmosphere as particulate matter after being burned (most trash here is burned).

But I didn't start this post to rip on two fictitious blobs with lots of fur and little in the way of gender, I wrote it because of one particular photo I came across:



Where to begin...
At first count, your "world" restaurant has skipped four of the six inhabited continents, and four of the five restaurants are from the same part of one continent, while the fifth covers about 20 different types of countries and arguably an equal number of styles of cuisine. Furthermore, one of these, "Southeast Asian", covers an additional 15 or so.

The problem here is that while Japan is obsessed with the idea of "International" (the word is common enough that the English loan word (Intanshyanaru インタナショナル) is as understood as the native word "kokusai" 国際), they tend to do a much better job of slapping it on to any sign or business name they can find than of actually creating anything that begins to live up to the idea of internationalism.

No dusty hamlet of slack-jawed troglodytes is too small to be without some International Friendship Center or some such named heap of concrete and tax-payer funded waste. And any organization or group looking to add a little clout to their status can up the ante by slapping either word to their name.

A recent walk brought me to the Kobe International Friendship Whatever, which had a nice little cafe set up. This was a cafe serving "International Fare" which consisted of one set lunch from Honduras, three kinds of spaghetti (including one with a pollack roe sauce in the traditional not-Italian-at-all style), and a bunch of rice bowls and tonkatsu dishes. In other words, of 20 dishes on the menu, 15 were distinctly Japanese (or Japanese versions of western food that are served almost exclusively in Japan). And remember, this was at a cafe that specifically billed itself as 'international'.

There are International events where the Japanese/Non-Japanese ration is somewhere around 100:1, and in Kobe there is the International Center which has nothing more international than a Starbucks.

Now - definite "A" for effort on Japan's part. But in execution we are approaching a "D+" at best. Sure, you beat out North Korea for 'more non-native residents', but they regularly broadcast news reports that the other nations of Earth vanished in a cloud of jealousy once those countries realized how freaking awesome Kim Jong Ill was, all while only allowing most foreigners to visit under the strict guidance of two human smoke-stacks who bring you from one nationalist pile of concrete to the next in the deluded hope that you will spontaneously adopt the principle of Juche or self-relience (side note: Juche is the principal that basically allows the government to deny assistance from any outside source, the same way a drunkard who has passed out into a concrete sidewalk can spit out enough blood and tooth to declare "I'm good!" to concerned passers-bye).

When you are barely beating North Korea at anything, it is time for a good hard look in the mirror.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Why we are all a bunch of fat-assed knuckle-dusters with heart disease

Just returned to the mothership after a month back in the land of the free and diabetic. Every time I log into CNN or Yahoo! there is inevitably some story about how the asses of your average American now are able to exert some detectable gravitational pull on surrounding objects, or the rising epidemic of zygote diabetes. There are also usually some articles titled "Health Watch: 5 Foods to Lower Your Risk of Being a Land-Whale" or "10 Simple Diet Changes to Help You Avoid Wearing Pants With Enough Fabric to Rig a 19th Century Clipper Ship".


Fun Fact: The Goodwill donations of only two adult U.S. males were recycled into the sails of this ship. Ironically the ship was used to transport an emergency supply of butter to Big Bertha's Butter Covered Lard Cube factory which supplies the nation's public school lunch program.

And upon returning home I was again (as I always am after spending extensive time where the average body-type is closely modeled on a pipe cleaner) at just how unfathomably huge so many of my fellow Americans are.

Now clearly there isn't a huge degree of mystery behind the source of this discrepancy in water-displacement capacity.

In the US we eat this:


and this:



and this:



This last one is a funnel cake. Which has as much resemblance to a cake as the US House of Representatives has to a functional organization (rim shot!). When we believe that chucking raw batter into a vat of oil and topping it with confectionery sugar constitutes food we are clearly on the wrong path.

Compare this to one of my first meals on returning to Japan:


Fun Fact: In Japan this is food for four people. In the US this is an appetizer for a toddler. (in amount only, no way in hell is a kid in the US eating nearly so much green stuff unless it comes from a tube with Dora the Explorer on it or had enough lime green food coloring pumped into it to make Chernobyl look like a good place to raise children)


The dishes include (moving roughly left to right) grilled lotus root, boiled spinach with sesame seeds, salad, konyaku (which is a potato starch based gelatin) seasoned with shiso (a leaf vegitable), tofu cooked in the hotpot, sashimi, beef and eggplant stir fry, and cucumbers with seaweed and vinegar.

Now - I will digress to tell a story from my college days (readers may be shocked to learn that this 'writer' actually matriculated at and graduated from an accredited college). My friend and I would drag ourselves to the dining hall every night and face the same choice over at the grill where the food was prepared in plain view (If I was an underpaid line cook preparing food every night for a group of self-righteous and over-entitled teenagers who repeatedly asked, in a tone of voice that was all but dripping with skepticism, whether or not the vegan-only pan had been used to make any grilled cheese, I would seriously consider using a good portion of the prepared dishes as a gluten-based Kleenex). One of the choices we faced was whether to have the deep-fried chicken patty or the grilled chicken breast. The chicken patty had 16g of fat, and the grilled chicken breast had 4g. While the chicken patty was clearly tastier than the breast, we decided that it was not 4 times as tasty - hence we tended to opt for the breast (which we did in areas other than chicken! rim shot again!). Thus with the taste vs. heart-attack equation we were able to run a semi-inebriated cost/benefit analysis and determine our diet over the period of four years.

All this goes to say that the Reuben is clearly a great way to induce a mouth-gasm. I would even say it was 3 times as tasty as the Japanese meal I ate. But it was about 804,834 times worse for you. And like the grilled chicken breast, the Japanese meal was in no way bad - it was quite good in fact. Very good indeed. Awesome even. And while it was no Reuben, the results of the cost/benefit analysis were pretty clear.

Which leads to a second point.

To say that the Japanese eat naught but fish and seaweed would be false. There are plenty of gastronomical choices that involve some combination of "fried", "deep", "meat", "sauce", and other such artery-clogging descriptors. But really it is a question of frequency, and even more importantly portions size. Several years ago I made another trip back to the US. Before leaving I decided I was looking forward to a proper US steak house. Upon arrival I ordered the biggest steak on the menu:



It was enormous, but had all the flavor and texture of a pair of leather shoes left out in a monsoon, and then stored in a sand pit for a month. It was cheap. It was huge. It was crap.

A great number of our chain restaurants are quick to advertise, with great fanfare , just how enormous a plate of food you can get and precisely how little it will cost you. We boast of exactly how many varieties of cheese we can fit into a single entrée. Your bacon-wrapped potato wedges only have 4 kinds of cheese? You are clearly a vegan Communist loser. And then we turn around and run away from carbohydrates like they were the equivalent of rectally ingested cancer-laden heroin. We try and stay healthy be eating fat-free cream cheese on a carb-free bagel, with a bag of 'no trans-fats' kettle-cooked bbq chips, all washed down with a nice bottle of Coke Zero. And then we never grow tired of patting ourselves on the back, if only the seven extra inches of girth on that stump that was once our arm didn't prevent such a range of motion. It is a very split-personality approach to nutrition. And it is clearly not working.

One concept big in nutrition in Japan is 'balance' (ironically there is no word for this other than the loan word 'balance' バランス read baransu - strange considering how central it is to the idea of diet and nutrition here) It doesn't mean that you should never eat anything fried or with fat as clearly stated before, only that you should refrain from portions that are usually reserved for large and impressive geological formations. If you are going to eat red meat, do it right and have a nice small piece Kobe beef. Have it with some vegetables, maybe steamed squash, sliced tomatoes, etc. In other words, show a little moderation.

Unfortunately for many in the US, 'moderation' is listed in the thesaurus as a synonym for 'loser socialist apologist'. The very word moderation makes Sarah Palin want to put a nice little piece of lead deep into the brain stem of some lower life form and use its jaw as a beer cozy on her Freedom Bus or whatever the fuck she toured the country in last summer.

Look, we are great in America at a lot of things - we have the greatest entrepreneurs, some of the top universities in the world, and we are pretty much unbeatable in the realm of pizza toppings. But let's not pretend we don't have a thing or two to learn from our more svelte neighbors regarding nutrition. If you really want that chilli-dunked double cheese burger with the disco fries and a cherry coke, then enjoy, but don't make it your new Saturday night thing.