OBVIOUSLY OISHII ! 

The eel is not a good looking fish. Called Baam fish in Eastern India, it is long, thin, blackish and slimy and could easily be mistaken for a snake. It does not in anyway look palatable. So how do I voice my apprehensions to a Japanese friend at Unagi Yakko, 'founded in the era of the eleventh generation Shogun in the Edo era (1603-1868)' at Asakusa, Tokyo. Especially when Unagi or freshwater eel has cult status in Japan and is one of the most sought after delicacy and our friend is all excited about it. Besides, the Japanese don't do anything in half measures; there is actually a national holiday in summer- Doyo no Ushi or Day of the Ox- the annual eel eating day.

A cover-up introduction helps.The first dish is the Japanese omelet with eel, like a folded egg pancake with eel fillings served with grated wasabi. There's a hint of citrusy smokey flavour and its love at first bite! Like all die hard neo-convert, one is willing to keel over for eel. The main course arrives in a lacquered wooden box that opens to reveal four long glistening slices of eel on a bed of rice. There's a small bowl of miso soup and smaller bowls of pickled vegetables. A sprinkle of sansho, a schezwan pepper powder with a strong flavour of lemon, is all that is required to take it to another level.

The Japanese take their food very seriously. So seriously that generations of chefs can concentrate on perfecting just one dish. Like Nodaiwa, backed by a history of 200 years, one Michelin star (2016) and a fifth generation  owner who was awarded the nation's highest skilled craftsmen a decade ago. We manage a booking at their Ginza outlet. Locating the place is however like playing Blind Man's Buff and repeatedly hitting the wrong target, made worse by heavy rains. Yes, there is a sign right next to the Ginza station entry, but it is a small one and in Japanese. A kind salesman of a departmental store near by guided us all the way. I suspect he had enough of giving directions and it was sheer exasperation that made him play guide. It was almost like a Pied Piper enactment with three groups following him. It was only on the way back we discovered that Nodaiwa is bang opposite the legendary Sukiyabashi Jiro, Ginza, said to be the best place in the country for Sushi. The Unagi at Nodaiwa was served the same way but it was perceptively lighter in tint and bigger in size. While connoisseurs maybe able to pinpoint the differences however nuanced, for the initiates it just increases the craving.  The image of the Indian eel vaporise into oblivion.

Izakayas or gastro-pubs are to Japan what pubs are to Ireland, Tapas bars to Spain and to some extent what legendary Dhabas are to India. Its traditional to the hilt and so quintessentially Japanese  that finding those with English menus can be both a relief and a tad discomfort evoking, as if a foreign language has no business intruding. What is authentic to the core is the Japanese flavour, cuisine and spirits both. Apparently one way of identifying an Izakaya is to look out for red lanterns at the entrance. In his book Izakaya: The Japanese Pub Cookbook, Tokyo based editor and journalist Mark Robinson says the best way to judge an Izakaya is 'the closeness of the master to his customers'.

The closeness is literal. The Izakayas are usually small in size and English menu or not, everyone is made welcome with lots of smiling and bowing. The layout in the Izakayas made me realise why the Japanese excel in the art of Bonsai even though it might be of Chinese origin. It's not exactly dwarfing but managing to make the most of small spaces without inducing a feeling of claustrophobia. How small? Just three tables sitting two each at almost thigh touching distance  at the only pork Ramen Izakaya, up a narrow flight of stairs, at Takeshita Dori (Fashion Street) Tokyo.  Which also meant that the chef had to prepare just six Ramen bowls at a time; each bowl a fountain of deliciousness.  

 

In almost all Izakayas, the chef is literally across  the counter and, you can see your dish being made right in front of you. Not knowing the language is not a hindrance, over the days we refined the art of ordering through pictures on the menu. Better still is to look at what your neighbour's, literally at elbow nudging distance, are having and point it out. I did that a six-seater bar in the cramped, crowded alley of Golden Gai, Shinjuku and had the most delicious salted raw fish. Another time it was fatty minced seasoned raw tuna rolled in seaweed. 

There's nothing gleaming about the Golden Gai. A little away from Shinjuku's glitter and gloss, the six narrow lanes are rather dimly lit (in comparison with its neighbourhood) with over 200 tiny bars housed in low rise buildings crowding into each other. Tiny is the operative word with at most ten patrons cramming in. If the rest of Tokyo is gentle and civil, Golden Gai is the unbridled wild child. The bar themes are something else indeed: Gothic is almost passe, there is hospital, horror movie, art house cinema and a close cousin of S&M. And there's music of every genre possible. All letting-down-hair is however strictly to be done within the bar premises. Once outside in the alleys, the alley rules have to be adhered to as laid down by the Shinjuku Santo Shoten Management. The five prohibitions go from smoking tobacco and cigars to climbing buildings and fences. It's very hard to imagine the locals doing that. In brief, all highs have to be contained indoors!  

The indoor ambiance is of course highly spirited. The Golden Gai bar goers are a loose mix of foreigners and regular Japanese office goers, who seem to undergo amazing transformation once they find a seat in a nomiya (drinking place), all staidness and poker faces vanish. Outside its a different story. Incidentally, while Sake has become a global knowledge and even Japanese whiskeys are fast climbing the drinks chart, Umeshu or wine distilled from small seeded fruits like berries, cherries, apricots, plums etc still remains mostly confined to Japan, which is baffling considering they score every point for best wines. Its sweetish, a tad tart-ish and slow seeping alcohol that infuses every pore with a warm glow.    

Umeshu may yet one day find its way out of  Japan in large barrels but  Denki Bran, the unique one-of-its-kind brandy based cocktail will remain the signature drink at Kamiya Bar, Japan's oldest western bar founded in 1880. The Asakusa district bar is a legend. What is so appealing is the lack of pretence and fuss. It's like hearing a western movie drawl saying: Want a drink, walk in , sit at one of the plain tables and place your order. There's no oriental decor elements or for that matter any decor element to distract and bright lights everywhere. I loved the story of how its signature drink came about. Two years after Kamiya was set up, its founder Denbee Kamiya began experimenting and formulated Denki Bran or Electric Brandy, the cocktail that is still thriving and how. A rich golden liquid, it is served in a tall shot glass that looks like an upright trumpet and strong like a horse with a ABV (alcohol by volume) option of 30 or 40 percent.

 

 

Much older than Kamiya and the oldest sweet shop in Tokyo is Umezono, founded in 1854. On our own we would have been totally lost but our Japanese friend  knew exactly what to order. The first was Amitsu with scoops of red bean paste, ice cream scoops, agar squares (at least I thought so), some red beans, orange segments, one bright cherry etc in a delicately sweetened liquid.  The next was Tokoroten or Japanese jelly noodles. The noodles are made from Kanten, the gelatin of a native seaweed. It's apparently considered very cooling during summer. The one we had was said to have a dash of Karashi or Japanese mustard and was again douses in a lightly sweetened vinegar which is also said to have a fraction of soya sauce. The experience was a novel one, but an encore - I don't think so.

 

 

For an all out sweet affair there is however nothing to beat the Japanese crepe. No half measures again. A crepe is a crepe all right but it is the fillings and the way it is served that add the Japanese touch and the zing factor. The crepes can go from plain flour ones to buckwheat and what have you. After checking out the vast filling choices over and over again, at one point I was tempted to shut my eyes and  just the hit the chart with my index because I was tired of my own dithering. The choice made, the crepe is stuffed, rolled like a cone and served. It's more than a meal.

Rough bamboo rafters as if they have been there forever, ancient and smoke sooty, equally aged tables and chairs, somewhat cramped but welcoming. At this eatery at Shimbashi the black panels with Japanese scripts were fascinating. One could have asked somebody for an interpretation but I let it be - the unknown should sometimes remain the unknown. What didn't require interpretation of any kind were the dishes that rolled out: sashami with a bit of bonito flakes, wasabi and some seasoning; the calamari; the sea food; the yakitori  platter; the soup; the endless rounds of Sake and  Umeshu. At the end you feel good about everything, just everything. And everybody. Okay, not every everybody! 

 

 

 

 

 

Hakone in Kanagawa prefecture is about one hour and twenty minutes from Tokyo by the Romance Car limited express. This is from where you can get closest to Mount Fuji, the sulphur springs and Lake Ashinoko.  Seafood is said to be the speciality at Hakone, especially Himono, fish or shell fish that are dried naturally (sun, wind) and served grilled. The Japanese eatery Kinosuke (Six western seating tables and two Japanese style) is where we walked in for dinner. It was there that  we learnt about Himono  and had one of the best ever dining experience. Kinosuke's expertise is charcoal grilling and the whole fish was redolent with smoky flavour and can't-have-enough-of-it deliciousness. Partner that with a platter of sashimi and glistening grilled luscious pork and of course, rounds of plum Umeshu - bliss! While in Hakone, after a sailing trip down Lake Ashinoko, in Kanagawa we walked into a tiny eatery (just two tables) completely manned by two elderly ladies. The one who was the chef also doubled up as server and cash counter manager, chirpy with impeccable English. I wasn't too keen on the pork curry (curry in Japan!) but went with her suggestion and I am glad I did so. Very homemade flavour and taste.

 

 

If there's is one Japanese dish that nobody can hold a beef against its Wagyu beef. Just couldn't resist writing that! It was quite a dilemma-to beef or not to beef, eat that is.  Beef was something that I ate centuries ago, as also mutton and recently chicken; I am porcine, its only pork meat. The husband however has no such hangups thankfully. It was in Kyoto's Pontocho Alley, the hot nightspot jammed with bars and eateries, running parallel to Kamogawa River in a crowded restaurant (waiting time seemed never ending) that he got to indulge himself.  The dish was a visual delight and going by his reactions, it obviously tasted divine too. I got more than my share of compensation with a sensational spicy mabao rice with black pig, among others including peanuts with amami sugar, rolled Japanese omelet and plum Umeshu with black sugar. 

 

 

There are those who call Kaiseki the finest meal in the world. Kaiseki is the traditional multi-course Japanese meal, haute cuisine as some like to call it. Kaiseki is said to be rooted in Kyoto and that it is also it's oldest culinary tradition. It's a meal served in courses and a perfect symmetry of taste, texture, visual beauty and presentation. It's the best sensory overload, of course at a price. We opt for Otowa-Gozen and the Jo Unaju sets. Like all set meals there are starters, soup, main course and desserts.Between the two sets there were sashimi, chawanmushi( traditional Japanese custard, a steamed savoury), miso soup, roasted Tofu with miso, grilled salmon and grilled eel and egg over bed of rice besides quite a bit of pickles. The sweet dish was a cold red bean custard. Is the hype and the high price worth it? In one word, yes.It's a must do experience. The ambiance, the view from the large windows and the service all add to the pleasure.

 

 

 

 

There have to be road bumps too and both were there in Kyoto itself. It was like a slide from from the sublime to the slump. Fushimi Inari Taisha, the Shinto shrine dating back to the 8th century, like all prominent tourist destinations, has the lanes leading to it lined with the regular small food stalls, souvenir shops and everything that aims to be tourist magnets. What was fascinating was to watch, in many stalls, was the making of a ball like item that claimed to have egg, octopus and rice flour. Deft hands would pour in the mixtures, one by one and roll them around swiftly but gently, almost like an edible cricket ball taking shape while hot steam wafted up. Naturally, there were many takers for it and naturally, who could resist the temptation.  It was a disaster every which way, a gooey tasteless blob that had not a single redeeming feature. We looked for the first trashcan to be bin it. Then in one the lanes there was this crab cake stall. Crabs are my undoing. In this it was literally undoing and unbecoming, that was no crab meat, it was artificial crab all the way. It felt like being cheated twice, a rare feeling in Japan. That evening we went to a cute Irish bar followed by sausage pizza in a Japanese joint.  Just like that.