Kombu Tsuyu No Moto

Rain from early to late morning today, on 2/22/22, leaving large spring-like puddles, plus much mud, on my land. But now much colder air has moved in, pushing temps below freezing. Those puddles will be solid in the morning, but at least so will the mud.

Another bottle of Ninben brand concentrated soup base (kombu tsuyu no moto) has been emptied in this house. The last of went into the bowls from which we ate the fish and noodles and tofu and vegetables boiled in our nabe (鍋) pot this evening.

If that sounds like a good wintertime dinner, it is.
As for the soup base, it is the product of the Ninben Co. of Tokyo, whose roots go back to a salted and dried fish merchant in Old Edo ca. 1700.

Unusually detailed — if a little repetitive — verbiage on the label (not visible in the picture) says:

This is a concentrated soup base made from Japanese Hokkaido kelp, dried shiitake mushroom and authentically brewed soy sauce.

You can taste the rich soy flavor and umami of kelp and dried shiitake mushroom.

We do not use any high fructose corn syrup, artificial colorings or preservatives.

We do not use ingredients derived from animals.

A serving size is two tablespoons (30mL), including very little except carbohydrates and salt. Indeed, one serving provides 1200 mg of sodium.

Kabuki

The cover of a 12-page program, from among the debris of previous years. Such items accumulate if you let them, and we do, to remind ourselves of previous years.

Except I can’t say I have anything more than a vague memory of attending the Year-End Grand Kabuki Kaomise show in November 1993. There were actors in wildly colorful costumes and makeup, pursuing their exaggerated movements, as you’d expect. The dialect, Yuriko said, was sometimes hard for her to understand. I only picked up a word here and there sometimes.

“Kabuki theatre has been the most popular indigenous theatre form in Japan since the late 17th century,” explains the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin (of all places). “Accompanied by music, the all-male group of actors perform a rich combination of dialogue, song and dance that even encompasses acrobatics, action-packed heroic tales, tragic love stories and burlesque comedies.

“By the 19th century, the best-loved actors and scenes from the most successful plays had quickly become part of an elaborate marketing system that was in part fueled by the proliferation of affordable woodcut prints which drew on the cult status of the stars they depicted.

“One of the high points in the theatre calendar was the wave of premières marking the season’s opening, held annually in the eleventh month of the moon [sic] calendar, during which it was customary for a theatre’s entire ensemble to present a play to the fans. This event is known as ‘kaomise,’ which literally means ‘the showing of faces’ and took its name from the fact that all stars employed for the coming season presented themselves to the public.”

I’d say the Japanese have seen a vast expansion of entertainment forms since the 19th century, just like everyone else, rendering kabuki a niche interest. I’m glad I went, but never felt the urge to go again.

The Former Hokkaido Government Office Building

We spent time in Sapporo during our late September/early October 1993 visit to Hokkaido, and one of the more charming structures to be found there is the Former Hokkaido Government Office Building. A handsome pile of 2.5 million or so bricks.Old Hokkaido Government Building

I understand the local nickname is Akarenga, or Red Bricks. That seems fitting.

The building dates from early Meiji period, when settling Hokkaido was seen as a priority, and for a time housed the offices of the Hokkaido Development Commission, and later the government of the prefecture. It burned down twice in the earliest years and was always rebuilt (but I don’t think it fell into a swamp).

“Completed in 1888, the American neo-baroque style brick style brick building was designed by engineers of the Hokkaido Government and was constructed with many local building materials…” says the prefectural government.

“In 1968, it was restored to its original state in commemoration of the centennial of Hokkaido… and it was designated as a National Important Cultural Property in 1969.”

These days (as in 1993), it houses a small museum and the prefecture’s archives. I know we went in, but I don’t remember what was on display. Note the flag on the pole on the pamphlet I picked up at the building, but not in the picture I took.

I might not have seen the flag of Hokkaido there, but I do like it.

Fortune Cookie Wisdom

I ate a fortune cookie not long ago, as I do when offered them by restaurants and takeout places that offer them. Also, I read the fortune, as a form of very low-grade entertainment.

Something I knew about fortune cookies: their origin seems to trace from Japan, Kyoto in fact, a place that’s long been inventive when it comes to confections. I’ve sampled some of the traditional products in the small, wonderfully colorful shops of that city.

“The idea that fortune cookies come from Japan is counterintuitive, to say the least,” wrote Jennifer 8. Lee in the New York Times some years ago, an article I remember seeing before. Maybe so, but ideas and inventions travel and morph, in this case to California for an association with Chinese food by the 20th century.

“The Japanese may have invented the fortune cookie,” she quotes Derrick Wong, the vice president of the largest fortune cookie manufacturer in the world, Wonton Food, based in Brooklyn. “But the Chinese people really explored the potential of the fortune cookie. It’s Chinese-American culture. It only happens here, not in China.”

Which brings me to the wisdom in my most recent fortune cookie, from a bakery in Chicago. Seven words, entirely sic:

Being an able man. There are always.

Glad to see that fortune-cookie writing, in this case, has been outsourced to someone whose native language isn’t English. Entirely possible in polyglot Chicago. I can’t say what language they do speak, but I’m certain of that.

Tottori Sand Dunes, 1992

Pleasant spring-ish weekend. Sour old man winter will return again sometime soon, of course, but probably not in full force as spring slowly gains the upper hand.

Referring to the Tottori Sand Dunes, Wikipedia has this to say, among other things: “Each year, around two million visitors — mostly from within Japan and East Asia — visit the dunes.[citation needed]”

Maybe so. When we went there in March 1992, the place was pretty popular.Tottori Sand Dunes Tottori Sand Dunes Tottori Sand Dunes

The dunes aren’t that far from the heavily populated Kansai region — Osaka-Kyoto-Kobe — and they count as a novelty draw since Japan doesn’t a lot in the way of epic sand dunes. If that’s what you want to see, Tottori is the place to go. The dunes stretch nine miles from east to west, and are a little more than a mile wide. At their highest, they rise about 165 feet over the Sea of Japan.

“The Sendai River carries sediment from the nearby Chugoku Mountains that eventually washes out into the Sea of Japan,” JNTO says, along with images of the area wider than anything I have. “Strong sea currents and winds work together to push these sediments back onto the shore to form the sand dunes. These same intense winds continuously move and re-shape the dunes.”

The dunes supposedly inspired Kobo Abe’s novel, The Woman in the Dunes (砂の女 Suna no Onna, “Sand Woman”), which I haven’t read. Years ago I did see the 1964 movie based on the novel, which is a well known avant-garde film and, I thought, relentlessly grim. Fitting for a retelling of the Sisyphus myth.

Tourist Map of Japan

Another yellowing old map in my collection — accumulation — random stash — is one of Japan published by the Japan National Tourist Organization in 1988. I picked it up in 1990 during my early days in the country, and for a while it was thumbtacked to a wall in my flat.Tourist Map of JapanLook closely and you’ll see the thumbtack holes. Along with tears and other damage. Part of the front panel, not far from Tokyo-Yokohama, is missing for some reason.
Tourist Map of Japan
I also seem to have used it for note-taking, at least briefly. Something I learned very early on: the price of a postcard and a first-class letter to the U.S. (¥70 and ¥100, respectively). Not bad, $1 fetched about ¥130 during my first year there. I’m not sure what “Y-779 8361 MCA – Osaka” refers to.
Tourist Map of Japan
Featuring cities, towns, rail lines and roads, spas (very important in Japan; onsen (温泉), perhaps hot spring is a better translation), rivers, lakes, major mountains, national parks and prefecture names. The kanji for larger cities and towns is also included.
Tourist Map of Japan
It wasn’t a map I carried around much, since the scale was too large (1:2,000,000 as it happens) to be useful as a guide. Still, it had a good run on my wall, helping inspire me to get out and about.

Godiva, Yildiz Holding & Giri Choco

The thing is, with many boxes of chocolates, you do know what you’re going to get, provided you read the box. So pay attention, Forrest.

We found a 10.9 oz. box of Godiva chocolates (27 pieces) at a warehouse store for a significant discount to that brand’s normally high prices, so we brought it home. Considering those high prices, this is a rare treat. Sure, Godiva’s really good chocolate, but so are other brands at less than premium prices.

We’ve been eating one piece each after dinner, six pieces all together so far. I’ve had the milk chocolate ganache bliss — hard to argue with a name like that — and dark chocolate coconut. Mm.

Godiva Chocolatier, incidentally, hasn’t really been Belgian in a long time. The Belgians sold it to the Campbell Soup Co., of all companies, almost 50 years ago. More recently, Campbell sold it to Yildiz Holding, a Turkish conglomerate. The brand has about 450 stores worldwide, including more than 100 in China.

While finding that out, I also discovered that Godiva has been taking out ads in recent years in Japan against the practice of giri choco, the popular custom of Japanese women giving chocolate to men, often coworkers, on February 14. A nice example of cross-cultural WTF, but you run into that kind of thing a fair amount in Japan.

As far as I can tell, Godiva doesn’t have a beef with the practice per se, it was merely trying to annoy a Japanese competitor, Black Thunder, which seems to be popular for giri choco. I don’t have any experience with that brand, though the name amuses me. Seems it came to the market after I lived there.

Kinkaku-ji 1990

Thirty years ago, I spent much of my first summer in Japan wandering around the Kansai, the part of the country focused on the Osaka-Kyoto-Nara-Kobe megalopolis. On August 18, 1990, I sent a postcard featuring the Kinkaku-ji to San Antonio. This is the card. I never made such a good image of the place. Or any image that I remember. For much of the time I lived in Japan, I had no camera.
Dear Jim,

My latest trip to Kyoto took me here… It’s a Zen temple. The gold color is gold leaf. The only thing the postcard doesn’t depict are the swarms of tourists behind the pavilion, each with a camera….

Dees

This is actually the Kinkaku, the Golden Pavilion (kin means gold), which is a major part of the large Kinkaku-ji temple complex (ji being a suffix meaning temple), which is formally known as Rokuon-ji.

Everyone sees the Kinkaku-ji. It’s like taking a look at Big Ben or the Eiffel Tower. That happened to be the first of a number of times I went there on a day trip, usually in the company of a visitor from the U.S.

The Golden Pavilion is often mentioned in the same breath as the Silver Pavilion, Ginkaku-ji, gin meaning silver, also in Kyoto. That too was a place to take out-of-towners.

Nori

Usually I do my own scanning, but in this case, I figured — what’s the point? A fellow named John Lodder posted this image on Flickr under a Creative Commons 2.0 license, meaning I need to give him credit and link to the original site — which I just did. It’s a close-up of nori.We always have nori around the house. It’s used for wrapping edibles, especially to make homemade sushi, which we do fairly often. Not as artful as prepared sushi, but a lot cheaper and just about as good. More finely shredded nori is a garnish.

Nori is seaweed pressed into sheets. That much I’ve long known. I decided to look into it a little further, and discovered something I never knew, which always makes my day: the story of the reinvention of nori and, indirectly, sushi.

Seaweed has been harvested and processed into nori in Japan for centuries, but right after WWII, the industry was in dire straits.

“Despite becoming a staple food of the Japanese, the basic biology of edible seaweed species remained almost completely unknown until [the late 1940s], when pioneering British scientist Kathleen Drew-Baker saved the country’s nori farming industry,” Gastropod says.

“In 1948, a series of typhoons combined with increased pollution in coastal waters had led to a complete collapse in Japanese nori production. And because almost nothing was known about its life cycle, no one could figure out how to grow new plants from scratch to repopulate the depleted seaweed beds. The country’s nori industry ground to a halt, and many farmers lost their livelihoods.

“Meanwhile, back in Manchester, Dr. Drew-Baker was studying laver, the Welsh equivalent to nori. In 1949, she published a paper in Nature outlining her discovery that a tiny algae known as Conchocelis was actually a baby nori or laver, rather than an entirely separate species, as had previously been thought.

“After reading her research, Japanese scientists quickly developed methods to artificially seed these tiny spores onto strings, and they rebuilt the entire nori industry along the lines under which it still operates today. Although she’s almost unknown in the UK, Dr. Drew-Baker is known as the ‘Mother of the Sea’ in Japan, and a special ‘Drew’ festival is still held in her honor in Osaka every April 14.”

I’m not so sure about that last line. I might have missed such a festival when I lived there — Osaka’s a large place — but other sources, such as a longer University of Manchester article about about Dr. Drew-Baker and nori, tell me the festival is in Uto, Kumamoto.

There’s a memorial to her in Uto, seemingly at a place called Konose Sumiyoshi shrine, which could be confused with Sumiyoshi Taisha (Grand Shrine) in Osaka — within walking distance of where I used to live.

One more thing about nori, at least around here. Our dog likes it. Loves it. One of her favorite things to eat. That has some practical uses, too: any pills the vet prescribes go down a lot easier when wrapped in wet nori.

Bonito Flakes

A staple of Japanese cooking, bonito flakes look a little like pencil shavings, but are more delicate. We always have them around the kitchen, in packages large and small. The empty package I scanned is Futaba brand bonito flakes.
“Bonito is a kind of tuna, and Katsuobushi is dried, smoked bonito,” Japanese Cooking 101 says. “Katsuobushi is often used as flakes shaved from a piece of dried fish…
“Katsuobushi has a smokey savory taste that is a great accent for many Japanese dishes. Because dried bonito is packed with lot of umami (savory taste), it is perfect for making dashi (fish broth) with which is a crucial component for Japanese cooking. Katsuobushi also can be used as is, sprinkling on simple vegetables to give a deeper flavor instantly.”

I knew it first from okonomiyaki, an Osaka and Hiroshima specialty sometimes called a Japanese pancake, a term that describes the shape of the food, but misleads about everything else important: taste and texture. Okonomiyaki includes flour, eggs, shredded cabbage, and a choice of protein, and topped with a variety of condiments — especially a brown sauce we call okonomi sauce, and bonito flakes.

Bonito is also good eating as a regular fish dish. Especially in Shikoku, and even more especially in Kochi prefecture in the southern reaches of the island. I encountered it at Cape Ashizuri in ’93.

“The minshuku [was] our accommodation for the night, and completely fogged in. The evening meal made up for it by being excellent, especially the bonito sashimi,” I wrote about the visit.