EXCERPTS FROM CULTURAL KAISEKI

Excerpt from CHAPTER 16: Nuclear Meltdown

The area was a ghost town, a post-apocalyptic landscape from a Hollywood movie. Everything in the Fukushima nuclear exclusion zone—rubble from the earthquake, abandoned cars, and deserted buildings—seemed to be frozen in time. You could practically feel the urgency of the people as they dropped everything and fled. Maybe they thought that the evacuation was temporary, but as of yet, no one has returned.

Special permission was required to enter the area. We had to have pre-arranged authorization forms and had to show our passports to the guards patrolling the perimeter. We also got personal radiation detectors to measure the total dosage that we would receive on the tour. With everything in order, our vehicle slowly drove past the gates. The already serious mood in the vehicle got even more somber. What did I get myself into?

Excerpt from CHAPTER 19: Better Than Kobe Beef

Once again, I was in Japan on a business trip, and this time I found myself in Sanda, a small city about an hour north of Kobe. Sanda is home to several industries including manufacturing, chemical, pharmaceuticals, and foods. But it also is the home to Sanda beef, which gave me something to look forward to after work. Not as famous as Kobe beef, Sanda’s own version of Japanese kuroge (black) beef is nonetheless regarded by many as being of higher quality than its Kobe cousin. With only a handful of farmers raising less than a thousand head of cattle each year, Sanda beef is even more rare than Kobe beef, and, in my opinion, better.

The founder of this place had said, ‘The restaurant must satisfy all five senses of our customers, not just the taste. The main store is not just a restaurant, but a place for cultural arts. Meals need not only satisfy the appetite, but also satisfy the mind. We want to provide a dining space where you can feel the breath of art and culture.’ Sandaya Honten was created with that in mind. It is a place where both the appetite for food and culture can be marvelously satisfied.

CHAPTER 7: Hokusai Museum

The small town of Obuse is nestled among the mountains of Nagano Prefecture and at around thirty minutes from Nagano City by train, it is not at all difficult to visit—not nearly as difficult as it must have been for the eighty-three-year-old Hokusai, who came from Edo (Tokyo) by foot multiple times. It was in Obuse that he painted several masterpieces, many of which survive to this day…

CHAPTER 20: A TWO-HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD RECIPE

If you have a recipe that is two hundred years old and have been selling that dish continuously, then you are probably on to something. Such is the case with Nodaiwa, a restaurant that has been serving unagi(freshwater eel) to daimyo (feudal lords) and commoners alike for the past five generations. Located just a few blocks away from Tokyo Tower, this Michelin-starred restaurant serves only the finest unagi, mainly from Shizuoka and Kagoshima Prefectures, focusing on fresh eels from the wild…

CHAPTER 21: Michelin-Starred Ramen

On the counter of this ramen shop was a sign that listed all the ingredients of the special bowl of noodles I had just ordered. The stone-milled noodles (made on site every morning) were actually soba noodles made from premium flour from Hokkaido and Tochigi, salt from Okinawa, and natural soda ash from Inner Mongolia. The soup stock was made from special breeds of chickens from Aomori, Kumamoto, Miyazaki, and Aichi. The fresh soy sauce was from Wakayama, Nagano, and Hyogo. Additional ingredients included mussels, beef, porcini mushrooms, dried fish and vegetables. And to top it all off was a layer of black truffle oil from Italy and balsamic truffle cream. Wow! I had no idea what such exotic ingredients would taste like, so prepared myself to be amazed. At the bottom of the sign were big bold letters saying: “Please don’t use cell phone while eating ramen. Please focus on ramen.” They took their ramen seriously...

CHAPTER 18: The Best Hotpot in Japan

The chef was certain that no other place served nabe (hot pot) quite like his, and he should know since he always competed in the annual Nabe One Grand Prix, which draws nabe restaurants from all over Japan. He proudly told us that the nabe that we were about to eat, had come in second place nationwide for the past three years. He also told us that it took him months of trial and error to develop the recipe of the dashi, and that finding the perfect cuts of beef was also challenging. Having worked in the meat industry he knew how to spot the tasty cuts, so he opened this restaurant to serve his creations.

Wow, with that kind of introduction, I didn’t know how a pot of beef, spinach, and tofu could possibly live up to that hype. I thought that this was all very interesting and entertaining but wanted to judge the nabe for myself. I soon got my chance as a ladle full was poured into my bowl. Itadakimasu! We all took in a spoonful, and the reactions were immediate...

CHAPTER 14: Locked Out in Kurobe Gorge

The hotel was less than a mile away, but it turned out to be a mile uphill. To make things worse, it started to rain. It was just a sprinkle, but it was still annoying as I trekked my way with a heavy backpack. In about forty-five minutes, I crested the hill and saw a large building just a few yards away. Google maps identified it as the Hotel Kurobe, my final destination for the night. It was a large building all right, but something was amiss. It was completely dark. No signs, no streetlights, no light from any of the windows, nothing. It looked abandoned, like something out of a Stephen King movie…

CHAPTER 15: Underground Cathedral

We were inside the reservoir tank! A gigantic room made entirely of concrete, over three football fields in size. I could barely see the other end of this massive cavern, and you could drive a car inside this space. A series of temple-like columns supported the roof high above us, and large lighting fixtures shined down from above. Affectionately called the “Cathedral,” it reminded me of the majestic, medieval churches of Europe. Not as ornate, perhaps, but way more badass…

CHAPTER 13: Climbing Mt. Fuji

At 8 p.m., we left the hut for the summit, and after two hours we reached the eighth station. It was much slower going now in the darkness. The landscape was barren of any trees or vegetation which gave free reign to the wind. The cold wind picked up, but as long as we kept moving, it was not too bad. Keep moving, I kept thinking to myself...

Two and a half grueling hours later, we reached the next station—the ninth. We wanted to rest and warm up, but noticed that the higher we went, the more crowded the trail got. So we kept moving. Remarkably, as crowded as it was, everyone was dead silent. There were no discussions going on. No small talk. No mood for banter. At that height—over 10,000 feet—all I could hear was the wind buffeting my hoodie and my own labored breathing. Why am I breathing so loudly? I hoped that no one else can hear it. Two thousand more feet to climb…

CHAPTER 5: Tea Farm

The hillside before me was covered with rows and rows of neatly trimmed, green bushes. “This is where tea comes from,” said the guide.

We soon walked into the tea fields to get a closer look. The guide provided plastic bags which were to be filled with tea leaves of my picking. As I strolled through the rows of tea plants, I looked for perfectly shaped leaves that were one to two inches long, which supposedly tasted the best. I hand-picked about a dozen such medium-sized leaves which ended up being part of my lunch later that day as a surprise treat.

During the tour I learned that tea, including green, oolong, and black tea all came from the same plant, the Camellia Sinensis. The difference is how the tea leaves are processed...

CHAPTER 2: WOODCARVING IN NIKKO

About a thirty-minute walk from the UNESCO World Heritage site is the Nikko Woodcarving Center (日光木彫りの里工芸センター). Away from all the tourists, this place carries on the art of woodcarving using only traditional hand tools. Sounding sufficiently exotic and very much like a unique experience, my friends and I added it to the list of things to do that weekend. After seeing the major sites, we navigated away from the beaten path. With no English signs to guide us, we walked into the nearby town and made our way to the small unassuming building which housed the Nikko Woodcarving Center…

CHAPTER 3: Kite Battle

The next thing I saw was a huge display of kites, with a sign in English reading, “Giant Kite Battle.” The kites on the display looked to be real kites and were at least ten feet tall. Wow, I had never heard of such a festival, and it immediately intrigued me. The timing wasn’t right on that particular trip, but someday I would have to attend. That day came one summer a couple years later, when I returned to Niigata and attended the Sanjo Kite Festival called Ika Gassen or kite battle…

Chapter 12: island hopping on a bicycle

It was an epic road trip. Seventy kilometers of stunning seaside roads, six islands via six bridges and a ferry crossing, and an overnight stay at a traditional Japanese house—all done from the seat of a bicycle. The Shimanami Kaido is part of the Nishiseto Expressway connecting Hiroshima Prefecture on Honshu to Ehime Prefecture on Shikoku (the largest and smallest of the four main Japanese islands, respectively). The route is notable for having a clearly marked bike path along its entire length, with dedicated bike lanes in many of the areas…

CHAPTER 6: THE 47 RONIN

Located in the same Minato Ward as Tokyo Tower and the glitzy Roppongi, Sengakuji Temple is rarely visited by foreign tourists. Tucked away next to some residential apartments, the temple is a modest collection of buildings totally ordinary, except for its infamous past. Three hundred years ago, the temple saw the events of the 47 Ronin story or the “Ako Incident,” a tale of honor, sacrifice, samurai loyalty, and vengeance. Retold a thousand times in books, television, movies, operas, plays, paintings and even in kabuki, the story has become legendary in Japan and beyond…

CHAPTER 1: Samurai Swords / katana (刀)

As a fan of old samurai movies, I’d long been fascinated with swords. Their power, lethality, and indestructability (at least in the movies) were second in my mind only to their beauty and grace. As I learned more about the katana, my engineering mind became fascinated with the construction and metallurgy of these masterpieces. The fact that over a thousand years ago people developed such advanced techniques without the knowledge of modern chemistry and metallurgy is quite extraordinary. There were no textbooks on the microstructure of steel and what differentiates pearlite from martensite. Nor were there any formulas dictating the carbon content ideal for strong materials. There was only charcoal, iron sand, clay, water, and lots and lots of trial and error. If that’s not dedication to a craft, then I don’t know what is.

I was headed to the Seki Traditional Swordsmith Museum (関鍛冶伝承館), a living, working facility that produces handmade swords. I attended a live demonstration that showed how the swords are made in the traditional manner. An announcer explained every step of the process, but there was definitely a lack of English. Oh well. From what I already knew about swordsmithing and with my limited Japanese, I was able to get the gist of everything and could see the processes that I had read about come to life...

Chapter 10: Dog Sledding in Snowy Hokkaido

Sixteen dogs can get loud. They were all barking and howling as we made our way out of the farm and on to a snow-covered field. Passing a chain-link fence, they knew they were about to be let loose. Their excitement grew. The huskies were divided into two sled teams of eight. I got on to one of the sleds and held on tightly with a mixture of anticipation, anxiety, and wonder. How fast were we going to go? Could I control the dogs? Was it going to be dangerous in any way? After the trainer completed the pre-launch checks, everything was a go! Three…two…one…and then silence. Just the sound of wind through my hair...

CHAPTER 17: Japanese Fusion

After wandering about the narrow and crowded streets of Kitashinchi, in Osaka, I spotted the small entryway with a white noren (doorway curtain) with the name Takeichi imprinted in English. The worn and dirty curtain meant that this was probably a good place, (at least according to a common saying). A friend I was with actually thought that the curtain meant that the place was closed, when in actuality it means the exact opposite. We pushed past the noren and ascended a long and narrow staircase up to the restaurant above…