adventures in food

Japanese food had to grow on me. When I first got here, my opinion of washoku (和食), or Japanese cuisine, was "curious but un-optimistic." From what I had been able to tell, washoku was rice-heavy; involved a lot of bowls and cups and complicated eating rituals; and was made up almost entirely of unknown spices, grains, vegetables, and cooking techniques. When people--Japanese people--asked me what I thought of washoku, I answered with 50% false sincerity, "I like it!"

But it's grown on me. Two years of force-feeding myself nutritionally-approved school lunches, grabbing snacks at the konbini (convenience stores), making uneducated guesses at the grocery store, and ending up with unexpected plates when I ordered out at restaurants, and I'm starting to figure it out. Patterns have begun to emerge. Flavors have become familiar. Certain textures no longer startle me. I've had people--mostly kids--teaching me the names of foods and how to eat them. I'm at the point where I can order from an all-Japanese menu and receive a tray full of cups and bowls and pastes and sauces, and I'll think, "Yeah, I can figure this out." Then, I do.

I'm three months into my third year in Japan and I can actually say that I like washoku. I no longer look at a Japanese restaurant and think, "I guess I'll settle for this." I have a list of Japanese dishes I really like, foods I prefer to eat when I'm out and about. (Sorry, ramen, but soba is better.)

I still run into mystery foods (usually sauces and pastes), but I'm not as surprised or put off by them as I used to be.

I can say, with 100% sincerity, that I like washoku.