525,600 minutes...

... or The Amount of Time it Takes to Read One of My Posts
As all three of my vigilant readers know, I've recently lost the ability to keep any sense of chronology or narrative or coherence or exciting content in my blog posts, and have resorted to a Guerilla Warfare approach to net bloggin' (not unsimilar to wet joggin', I'm told). In keeping with having given up, today's blog post has a smokin'-weed-on-the-couch related theme that the majority of my friends should appreciate: FOOD! The munchies are something I am becoming singularly familiar with (though I've not been hitting the Ganja [that I'm aware of]) since having come to Japan, and I can only attribute that to the massive amount of information my brain is attempting to shove on me on top of meeting new people, thinking in another language about 40% of the time, and attempting to protect myself from the incessant bullying of a one Dina Yasuda (you know who you are, don't be shy, stand up and take a bow). I have been a bit foolish with my photography the past four weeks or so, in that I hadn't really been taking any pictures, but since starting this little experiment in boredom I have been snapping photos with my cellular like a madman (meaning with a truly wild head of hair and a crazed look in my eyes). So, onwards and upwards. (If you don't get the reference I don't own below, you may kindly stop reading this blog and steep yourself in pop culture).

In the realm of tasty food world wide Japan may have some of my all-time favorite edibles PERIOD. I know I have briefly mentioned Okonomiyaki, but I never properly explained what it is. Okonomiyaki (お好み焼き, for the Kanji curious) is essentially a pancake/lasagna type dish that is comprised of either noodles or lettuce, egg, and whatever meats, veg, or cheese you care for, and a healthy helping of two special sauces on top. Oh, and it is freaking delicious. I may have already used this pic, but it exemplifies my point while also showing off my dashing good looks and devil-may-care ruggedness.

AWWWW YEEAAAHH. For the record, Caroline also claimed to like it... but then, she's been wrong before. Another of my all time favorites is a delectable dish known as Curry Rice. Predictably, this dish is made up of a beef curry sauce and rice, but in Japan it is very common to add either an assortment of vegetables or, in a truly American disregard for general health, a wide variety of fried foods. Here we have curry rice with Tonkatsu (a fried pork cutlet [which I ate this evening at a specialty curry restaurant...])

The dish to the side is a salad, which I choked down between mouthfuls of grease. And here we have Ashlee gearing up to slam her face into some delicious Kara Age Curry Rice (fried chicken balls, which you should have remembered from some other blog I did...)

I also eat curry rice at the Kansai Gaidai Shokudo (cafeteria) pretty darn often. While we're on the topic of Kara Age (crispy, crunchy, nothing but yummy fried chicken), during my second week (I believe) Tony, Caroline and I attempted to try some Yakitori (which is... it's on a stick... it's nice and meaty... you guessed it, chicken on a stick!), but the owner of the restaurant either sincerely didn't understand my  Japanese (unlikely, I think), or intentionally didn't understand it, so that after a twenty minute wait he ended up bringing us each an enormous plate of Kara Age on a bed of cabbage, with a side of mayonnaise (don't ask)... and nothing else. Here I am chowing down regardless...

This is the point where the cholesterol caught up with me and I started stroking a bit... no worries, though, I managed to finish the chicken before my jaw locked up (and yes, I am seriously eating a piece of Fried Chicken with chopsticks. It is Japan after all). I should also mention (on the subject of me eating things with chopsticks) that the aforementioned Curry Rice is generally eaten with a spoon, but because I am stubborn and recently suffered a stroke, I adamantly refuse to eat it with anything but chopsticks, if given the choice... more out of spite for the people that have to watch me doing it than anything else. Another delicacy I get often at the shokudo that involves chicken is perhaps the most awkwardly-named concoction in the realm of Japanese fast food: Oyakodon. This particular dish falls under a group of food called Donburi, which consists of whatever fried thing you feel like eating simmered in egg for a couple of minutes and then poured over rice. As you can tell from my ever-descending jowls in these pictures, I find it irresistibly good. While you can get Katsudon (which is the fried pork cutlet and egg), my favorite is the Oyakodon, which is a mixture of grilled chicken bits and egg. However,  the kanji for Oyakodon (親子丼) literally mean "Parent and Child Don", because of course the egg comes from the chicken (and regardless of which came first, they taste damn good when you slap 'em together). Below is this morally questionable dish.

... at least they died together? The green bubbly right next to the Oyakodon is the wet dream of sodas, Melon Soda, which in Japanese is... Melon Soda. Creative, I know. There is also a special in the Shokudo known affectionately as the Club Lunch (Kurabu Ranchi in Japanese) which slightly changes everyday but usually consists of a slice of fried something with an unidentifiable sauce on it, some form of tasteless pasta, cabbage, rice, and a choice of either miso soup or a thimble-full of silky-smooth melon soda (the cups for the Club Lunch associated liquid bliss actually look like a shot glass for mice). Here is a picture of Caroline's Club Lunch, which I forced her to stop eating so I could take a picture of it.

I see she went for the Miso Soup instead of the single drop of Melon Soda. Smart girl. As some of you know, before I came to Japan I was a devout Vegetarian, but I have since become a born again Omnivore, and since I was in Japan, a land famed for it's fresh fish and general enthusiasm for pickling things, I decided it was time to get a burger. Luckily, there is a shop not a stone's skip away from Hirakatashi Eki (DON'T SAY IT ALEX, WE GET IT, YOU'RE THE TEACHER, WE'RE YOU'RE STUDENTS, IT MEANS STATION, LET'S MOVE ON PLEASE) called Mos Burger, which (according to Ashlee) was reputed to be "ballin'". So, one day when I didn't get the largest size available at lunch and I had another four hours to go before dinner, I decided to stop by and eat my first burger in 3 AND A HALF YEARS. The crazy thing? Didn't really miss burgers at all. But here is a picture of the burger I got (I never really caught the name of it)...

.... and it was slammin'. I mean, forget McDonald's special sauce, which might as well just be ketchup mixed with Mayo, this sauce was crazy good, something like a mix between horseradish, ketchup, ranch, and mustard, except good, and overall, it was a very decent burger. I was going to get the famed Salmon Burger (which looked to be a deep friend salmon patty, plain and simple), but I had apparently missed it by a day. Upon hearing that, I proceeded to do this (and unlike this photo, I owned it)...

On a completely unrelated note, the Dutch word for mustache is Shnor (circa Melody). Now I want to mention a dining experience that I haven't had in about seven years, which means that I have since gone through two new bodies on a cellular level and do not have a trace of it left on me. This smorgasbord (which is "Viking" in Japanese, I kid you not) of ecstasy is known as Shabu Shabu, and there is not a day I am here when I don't think about it. Shabu Shabu is a Tabehodai (all you can eat) concoction of unlimited raw meats and vegetables that you dip one by one into a boiling pot of oil placed right in front of you for a space of about five-ten seconds, and then immediately plop into your mouth, safety (and not-burned taste buds) be damned. As I haven't done this yet I don't have a photo of the food proper, but I do have a lovely photo of a photo of Shabu Shabu... which is kinda like going to the movies to see Taylor Lautner's body and instead getting to see Robert Pattinson's nipples.

On that appetizing note, I feel the need to share my incredulity at something I eat two of every single morning. In the states I was never a toast fan, because it's just warm bread and it's nearly impossible to get it to a comfortable level of cooked that isn't comparable to the Black Death. However, here in Japan on my very first day I sat down to a plate of salad greens and eggs with Beanie Weenies, and then my mother slammed down a piece of toast in front of me the actual size of Rhode Island, on a plate the size of Elijah Wood's eyes. In case you think I'm exaggerating, here is a picture of ONE of the pieces of toast I had this morning.

IT'S BIGGER THAN THE PLATE. And don't be fooled by my awful phone camera, this bread is an inch thick if it's a millimeter (that sounds weird). For the curious, each slice gets butter and Blueberry Jam... MMMMM TOASTY. Now, lest you think I am forsaking that greatest of all the food groups, Sweets, I am here to tell you that I have discovered the gummy equivalent to crack/cocaine, and I know. I've had them both. Like all good addiction stories, I heard about Gummy Fettuccine from a friend (Tony to be exact), and my first hit was free... but at such a cost. Since that first fateful bite I have sampled all the flavors of Gummy Fettuccine, but none compare to the first I ever tried, Grope-and-Grab-Me Grape (a.k.a. "I'm gonna grape you in the mouth!"). Here's a shot of my latest fix...

... and like all good addicts (as opposed to the bad ones?) I've managed to share my addiction...

She looks happy now, but in three weeks she'll be letting Nihonjin pet her hair for dirty Fettuccine money. It truly is sad. I actually have Ashlee to thank for another of my recent addictions, which I have dubbed Macha Milk. Macha (powdered green tea, for those too lazy to keep going with my teacher/student schtick) itself is already pretty sweet (particularly the kind Ashlee brought me from Uji), but when combined with milk it creates a combination far too powerful to be left in the hands of mere mortals... which is why I'm telling you about it. Below is a picture of this Nubile Nectar, gifted straight from the coffers of the Gods themselves.

.... and here's the vessel this nectar was borne in...

For the curious, the writing on the front actually just says Green Tea. Imaginative lot, these Japanese folks. The last thing I'll mention in this special edition of whatever it is I'm calling this blog today is something rather close to home: Baskin Robbins! Yes, I know, normally I would be vomiting all over my computer as well, but like most American things that have been imported East, Baskin Robbins in Japan is both ten times more delicious and, due to odd marketing and bad English, it's also mucho, mecha funnier (mecha meaning, oddly enough, "much" in the Kansai dialect of Japanese). While there were such tempting options as "These Nuts" and my favorite "Mecha Macha", I opted for "Love Potion 31" and Ashlee went with a double scooping of "Poppin' Shower" and "French Toast" (they can't all be funny). My love potion turned out to be raspberry and chocolate, while poppin shower was mint and Pop Rocks (AWESOME!!!!) and french toast tasted oddly of French Toast Crunch (for you old school cereal fanatics).

Well, I think I've made myself hungry enough for now, and it's with a heavy heart (from the cholesterol) that I bid my readers farewell... WAIT, what about that brief moment of time in which Zen may or may not exist?!?!?!? Here you are, my hungry chicks, come to Momma's open mouth...

Never say never cause no one ever Can-Can? ::ducks::


ご親切にありがとうございます,
Alex -..-