The Savage Muse

The tiny brown globes rested in a tiny mountain pile on top of steaming rice, almost appearing if they were steaming themselves. I leaned over and the pungent smell of ripe old age cheese seized my senses. Overwhelmed, I stumbled backwards, fingers grappling on the table to regain balance. I peered cautiously at the innocent ceramic bowl before me and then at the smiling, encouraging face of my host mother.

So this is natto, I thought to myself. I stirred the sticky mounds. The pile mushed and gossamer strings stretched, sticky on the chopsticks.

Looks and smells like a pile of steaming crap. Eww.

– circa. 2001-2002

Do you like natto on rice the most?
I do not like them, mom-the-host
I do not like natto on rice the most.

Would you like them here or there?

I would not like them here or there.
I would not like them anywhere.

I do not like natto on rice the most.
I loathe natto on rice the most.

Would you share them with a lark?
Would you like them with a Marc?

I would share them with a lark.
Nor will I like them with a Marc.
He hates them, mom-the-host
Like me, he hates natto on rice the most.

Not with a lark.
Not with a Marc.
I would not eat them here or there.
I would not eat them anywhere.
I do not like natto on rice the most.
I loathe natto on rice the most.

Marc waltzed into my favorite bakery, Danke, began a conversation with the owner of the bakery. After bonding over their mutual interest in cameras and audio equipment, Marc charmed himself into a personal tour of the bakery and an invitation to a BBQ that upcoming weekend.

Lots of boar, yakisoba, and turban snails to be had.

There’s an old saying that goes, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”. I’m convinced this saying was also meant for me. The pile above was lovingly picked and lovingly traded by a class of grade three children. The jam was also made by the children and they presented it to me. The gesture tugged my heart.

****

“I will trade you this big strawberry,” I waved the strawberry by its stem in front of the little boys. One of them scrunched his face in contemplation. “I will trade it for three of those medium sized ones.”

“Deal!” I made the exchange with the little boy Kou who grabbed the strawberry and greedily stuffed it in his mouth. With little red sticky fingers he gingerly took three strawberries from his plastic container and placed them gently on my pile. “Shank chooooo!” He and the other boys ran off, squealing, one of them tripping over and smearing red stains of fruit pulp on his cargos.

It was only moments before I was just sitting on my desk, ostensibly occupied with important matters when all I really was doing was pushing paper, doodling, or attempting to balance a pencil on the space between the nose and the upper lip.

“Do you like strawberries?” The sudden English question struck me as odd. I looked up from the paper and pushed it aside when I realized the voice belonged to the vice-principal.

“Yes, I do.” I answered. “I like them very much.” He looked pleased with himself with his obvious success in communication, waved me along and said, “Good. Get coat and be in the front. Five minutes.”

Now I found myself in the middle of the madhouse of strawberry fueled children and I saw myself turning into a similar red sticky fingered madwoman. I loved it.

Much of my Golden Week was spent lolling about and being lazy. Yes, I could have gone to some special event elsewhere, but let’s face it – I’m poor and will continue to be poor if I go out of my way to explore anywhere else besides my quaint city. I’m not complaining though. I do not mind spending the necessary expenses to go back home for my best girl friend’s wedding or spending the money for my upcoming two day trip this weekend to Tokyo’s Design Festa; that money I had allocated in my travel expenses and put aside. In my opinion, I can be a tourist any time I want in Japan. At the moment, I prefer being snuggled in some corner in the library and running into my students at random spots.

Like … at the local bakery.

The local Baker and the Baker’s wife invited me to one of their barbeques. Me being a fan of their breads, pastries and meat in general accepted the invitation and had been drooling over the idea for almost two weeks before the event. I had a great time meeting everyone and anyone who was in the neighbourhood.

As an aside, Japanese children and I get along like peas and carrots. We are full of silliness.

Note the usage of alliteration. Usually I would title my videos in a complete sentence describing the plot of the video as straight-forward and blase as possible with my name as the subject of the video, such as Ana Fails at a Foot Spa. This time around, I just wanted to switch it up a bit.

I must be like Holy Mary and am undergoing immaculate conception because that’s the only reason I can think of that explains why I have only been scarfing desserts and chicken karaage. Apparently, I do not eat anymore. Eating involves chewing; I inhale.

Anyway, to appease my cravings I made a lemon cheesecake. (I ostensibly made it for a dinner party, but I used that as an excuse to make it, eat half of it and then take the rest to the party.) I could have easily bought a cheesecake, but I am rather dissatisfied with Japanese cheesecakes I’ve tasted so far. The Japanese version of cheesecake seems to be a mix ricotta cheese with cream cheese, or a mix of cream cheese and a whole lot of whole cream. In short, mine rocked.

I used the same shortbread crust recipe from the lemon bars and the most basic cheesecake filling recipe I could find.

… makes these decadent Lemon Bars (via John James).

For a while I was suffering from oven withdrawal. I was probably some sort of full-time housewife in my past life as I find no difficulty in shedding my femme fatale suits, tying those pastel-coloured apron strings around my waist and dipping my hands into the occasional flour and butter concoction. I found myself dreaming of buttery pastries, crumbling cookies, and light fluffy cakes. At first I thought simply eating them would soothe these thoughts of mine, but they kept nudging me further and further away from the grocery section of APITA and into “Household Appliances”, specifically the toaster ovens and the microwave/oven combination (wonder) machines.

Alas I could not buy one. With my meager teacher’s salary and impending imperative trips, I had to be strict to the ol’ wallet and tied it down.

Thank god for karma! I was in my weekly Tuesday night Japanese lesson, helping put away pillows and tables into the closet like a good Samaritan when I noticed a small, but tall toaster oven.

“Why is there a toaster oven in here?” I asked.

The nearest Japanese person turned around and replied, “Do you want it?”

Is it small? Yes. Is it light? Yes. Does it have heat measured in Celcius and not some arbitrary scale from 1 – 10? Yes.

I looked at the kindly Japanese person and uttered, “Yeeesss …”

I took it home that night.

Working with a toaster oven is not without it’s flaws. The following recipe is from the John James’ site, but I’ve halved it a bit to adopt the portions to fit my toaster oven.

Lemon Bars via Smitten Kitchen
Adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook

These are bold and tart lemon bars, ones I feel are best in smaller doses than Ina Garten suggests. I’ve made a few changes to the recipe–increased the salt in the crust, reduced the sugar in the lemon filling and an encouragement to grease your pan.

For the crust:
1/2 pound unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup confectioners sugar

Lemon layer:
6 extra-large eggs at room temperature
2 1/2 cups granulated sugar
2 tablespoons grated lemon zest (4 to 6 lemons)
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 1/4 cup flour

Confectioners’ sugar, for dusting

Preheat the oven to 350°F and grease a 9 by 13 by 2-inch baking sheet.*

(*We have a gas oven and I had to figure this out thru trial and error, but I found that upping the heat to the equivalent of 300 °C made for a better square. However, you will have to watch the baking a little more closely.)

Ana Edit: Same goes for a toaster oven. I had to wrap tinfoil at the top to make sure that it did not burn. I may remake this with less filling next time. I also did this recipe without the use of an electric mixer, so feel free to try it out.

For the crust, cream the butter and sugar until light in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Combine the flour and salt and, with the mixer on low, add to the butter until just mixed. Dump the dough onto a well-floured board and gather into a ball. Flatten the dough with floured hands and press it into the greased baking sheet, building up a 1/2-inch edge on all sides. Chill.

Bake the crust for 15 to 20 minutes, until very lightly browned. Let cool on a wire rack. Leave the oven on.

For the lemon layer, whisk together the eggs, sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice, and flour. Pour over the crust and bake for 30 to 35 minutes (less if you are using the thinner topping), or about five minutes beyond the point where the filling is set. Let cool to room temperature.

Cut into triangles and dust with confectioners’ sugar.

The clouds were out and the rain was a thin watery spray of film in the air; I seemed to have gleaned over the part that says cloudy with a slim-to-none chance of sun, but my imagination has taken over reality and today was nothing but sunshine and lollipops.

If I am to live in this weary weather of monotonous dulcet tones of beiges and greys, I will do so in technicolour and one fashionable bright blue woolen toque at a time.

Although, you – YOU! — have caught me in my domestic state sans apron and wicker basket. My itinerary of today:

• Skype dates with beloved ones back home

• Breakfast of sugared butter toast, pieces of dark chocolate, and strawberries

• Bright blue woolen toque

• Home-style baked cheesecake, black tea, and a Japanese copy of Harry Potter enjoyed at  the nearest cafe

• An hour long peruse in the bookstore

• A 3 hour long walkabout all corners of APITA department store in search for the perfect toaster oven (still not found)

• Handwritten letters in purple and teal ink

• More dark chocolate

• Contemplations of a new video blog entry

• Succulent pork with bamboo shoots and other delicate vegetables

Dustin and I originally planned to spend some time traveling to Shuzenji Temple and then end the day with a relaxing dip in an onsen (lit. “hot spring”). It is, after all, known to have an overabundance of onsens. Armed with a cartoon map of the area, our adventure was spent mostly deciphering the cute map of Shuzenji, walking to Shuzenji, stopping at shops and food stalls in Shuzenji, and then walking out of Shuzenji. We did not encounter any onsen that day.

We forgot the purpose of the trip and spent our time gorging. That to me, my friends, is a well day spent. Besides, it gives me another reason to go back and spend some time in Shuzenji.

Hanami (lit. “flower viewing”) is the Japanese tradition of enjoying the few lustrous weeks of the cherry blossom before it falls in a billow of wind. Hanami is highly regarded because of the wab-sabi aesthetic of the cherry blossom: because the cherry blossom is imperfect in its quick decay, we must treasure its simplistic beauty while it lasts. For the Japanese, their idea of enjoying its natural beauty includes picnics under the tree, picture taking of the tree, karaoke amongst the trees, and drinking by the trees.

I personally have fun eating over-priced festival food – okonomiyaki, chocolate banana, fried chicken — and watching the intensity of the cameras people bring to these events.

I was lucky to stop by a couple shrines this week for hanami including Mishima Taisha Shrine in Mishima City. I actually went to Mishima twice, once with Hira-san and the second time with my ALT city-partners-in-crime, Emily and Aneeka. (Hira-san and Emily are featured in my video. Thank you!)

First Week: The Emperor and I
On Facebook, I already posted how I felt. Let me repost it here:

Ana Alcantara suddenly felt a calm wave as the children rushed towards her, calling out “Miss Ana! Miss Ana!” similar to that of Anna Leonowens’ experience in the King and I. I may or may not burst into song.

It’s not far from the truth. Even though I have three schools to teach, I will primarily be teaching in Ohito Junior High School where the girls are dressed in black, long skirted sailor suits and the boys wear the traditional Chinese-collared gakuran. So far, I haven’t taught a thing. May be that’s why it’s ridiculously fun right now.

Currently, my main responsibility is the creation of pink paper cherry blossoms. When I am not playing skip rope or dodge ball with the children, I am at my desk diligently making pink paper cherry blossoms. However, although I am responsible for creating an indefinite amount of these flowers I like to escape my duty (with the blessing of my coordinator and principal) to do random tasks around the school like helping other teachers during student health checks, sticking pink paper cherry blossoms on posters or walls, photocopying random worksheets, acting as assistant camera man to the many different school assemblies and ceremonies, playing skip rope, pretending to play skip rope, sticking pink paper cherry blossoms on students, and trading different items in school lunch with other students.

The girls are very curious about me so they ask me a variety of questions. Many do repeat themselves such as “Do you have a boyfriend?”, “What is your blood type?”, “How old are you?”, “Are you married?”, “Do you do the poo?”, etcetera. The boys like to play the game called, “Hello!” where one boy would stop me, quietly say “Hello!” and then would goad his nearby friend to do the same … but louder. This continues until I pass them by.

My friend, Kristine, who lived in Japan via The JET Program is astonished to why I have these movie-esque children. She wrote, “Any waves I felt were ones of nausea, as my demon-children ran helter-skelter, baring their fangs and proceeding to chew my worksheets into confetti. ” Right now, I don’t know if it’s just the afterglow of the first week, but I hope it does not diminish any time soon.

I recently did two experiments: I experimented in meshing more sound effects and background music with a voice over; I also did some experimental yakisoba. What better way to spend a night than to play around with cinematography and with food? I know I did so I glued it together into one blob of a video.

The beginning features the voice over experiment which was done in the style of the character Nakatsu from the comedic drama Hanazakari no Kimitachi e. I love the soundtrack to this drama and have borrowed much of my music for my work from it. The second part is just watching me cook yakisoba in my teeny tiny kitchen. The video also allows you to have a quick peek at my apartment before I do the apartment video.