I discovered myself suddenly longing for udon tonight… kitsune… niku… tamago…. all together. It was funny when I was staying with my old supervisor back in January. I told her that one Japanese food I really, really liked was udon. She thought it was surprising and funny, because udon is one of the easiest Japanese dishes to make (in Japan, anyway). So, she said we definitely could have udon for dinner, and she would make it for the four of us. And then, as we talked about the different types of udon, it came out that, really, I would like to have a combination of all of them, please. She and her daughters thought it was a really funny idea – almost like if someone said she wanted all the ice cream flavors mixed together or something – but they allowed me to have it… and boy, did I praise that dinner! They thought it was funny how much I couldn’t get over the amazingness of that dish, but it was one of the best and most satisfying meals I have ever had. It was spectacular – just what I had always wanted with udon.
And now I want some more. 😛
Please send soon. 😉
I totally respect the French approach to cuisine; I really do. It’s amazing what can be produced from such a philosophy and background, and I have reaped benefits from it many a times over the years. However, there is something to be said about the places and people who go purely for quality of taste, with little regard for presentation. In other words, the hole-in-the-wall kind of places.
Sitting at the small counter in a restaurant for maybe 20 people just now, I watched one guy lopping together fresh gyoza (Japanese dumplings) with his hands and a spoon. A few minutes later, my bowl of ramen (a sort of Japanese noodle soup) was set in front of me. I noticed a trickle of the soup on the side of the bowl, as well as a smear of the gyoza wrapper dough. My thoughts, far from appalled, simply said, “Well, this place is definitely not about the presentation.”
For me, of all people, this is a somewhat surprising response. However, AAawwzc —-that was a small tangent in which I stopped to pet and squabble with and be kissed by a little fluffy, curly-haired, three-year-old dog (Moku-Moku) on the street… now back — the food, as my experience yesterday at this same shop can attest, as well as the throng of people waiting to eat there later in the evening, as I passed it on my way home, is wonderful. It’s kind of like the grown men who run the shop care for little else – including presentation and looks – than sharing their good food. And I think that is wonderful.
And, obviously, it’s delicious, too. ;P