Mouthgasms, Moral Dilemma’s, Hunter S. Thompson and other Life Lessons from Tokyo
The restaurant is upscale with clean, polished trimmings and a rather quiet atmosphere given the place is full. I’m bemused and impressed by the centre section of the table that rotates to allow food and drink to be easily passed. My colleagues speak little English and I little of their native tongue-which explains at least our contribution to the placid vibe. I’m eating shark fin soup. I hadn’t realized it at first, and I certainly didn’t order it. Halfway through the course, I slurp the tasty broth and casually ask my host, who’s our show runner here, “What is this?” She quickly types something into her phone and hands it to me. The Google translation jumps off the screen like a “Fail” circled in blood red on a term paper.
Now I’m torn. A Shakespearean dilemma: To finish or not to finish?
Shark fin soup is illegal in many of the United States and at least frowned upon in others. Neither my host, nor anyone else in the restaurant enjoying the prix fixe menu, seem to be harbouring any remorse for the cuisine in front of them. But, a few years prior, I’d watched the documentary Shark Water and I cried.
Is it too late to turn back now? Will I offend my host if I do? My steadfast travel rules include doing as the locals do and not judging a culture by my own practices.
A bead of sweat breaks through on my forehead and gingerly drips down my face, narrowly missing the steaming bowl of soup below me.
I decide to finish the soup.
I immediately repent by whispering a tiny apology to the shark and chugging my mini glass of ice-cold beer. I politely wait for my host to fill the glass again. As a general “best-practice”, I try to be only slightly inebriated when in engaging in questionable moral activities.
The next dish is jellyfish! Good gosh, where does eating jellyfish rank in terms of food morality? At this moment, I don’t really want to know.
I accept my predicament and dive in.
Hmm…crunchier then expected. I’m reminded of the under-cooked spaghetti I once made for my mother when I was a child. This tastes better, though.
The rate at which my beer needs refilling must surely be borderline ill-mannered—but the glass is so small!
What on Earth I am doing? I’m lost again. The food is so unusual. The city is so big. An abundance of dazzling florescent lights and the chaos on the streets makes me almost dizzy. Day and night, the constant hum in my head. I haven’t slept properly in a few days. Where am I?
I am, of course, back in Tokyo. Filming another T.V. show.
Adam Besse & Joel Primus on location for Travel Notes
The last time I was here, I wrote about pattern disruption, my repressed sensualist nature, and the mesmerising tangle of opposites that is Japan.
Now, I’m musing about cognitive dissonance and the merits of a Hunter S. Thompson life code -which I’ll explain in a just a minute.
My first visit to Japan was a bit like losing my virginity. I wondered if it would live up to the pre-trip hype or fizzle out in an anticlimactic “I thought it’d be better than that.” [Note: It lived up to every bit of hype and more.]
Second time around, the question was, “Would it be just as good or more like a sophomore slump?”
Often, after the “OMG-I’m-finally-here” excitement fuelled by the memory of the first trip has evaporated, some things just don’t live up to that memory the second time around.
But, once again, Japan delivered.
Not quite like visiting an old friend, this subsequent trip to Japan was more akin to a second date. Still exciting and filled with the palpable tension of “getting to know someone.”
On our first “date,” I was unexpectedly blown to smithereens by a pizza made with bluefin tuna, freshly grated wasabi, sweet corn, mayonnaise and mozzarella cheese. (That joint was called Savoy Tomato & Cheese btw)
This time...well…let me set the stage.
Foreigners React Show - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGzmBmllnrQ&t=624s
The place: Sukiyaki Jyuniten, Marunouchi (near Tokyo Station).
I’m led into a tatami room—a small private room in a Japanese restaurant. It feels much like the setting for a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, and arguably just as spiritual. The traditional shjōi-style décor is constructed of hinoki wood and covered with translucent paper to allow the outside light to softly illuminate the room. I wonder about the minimalist design. In Japan, there is intentionality in everything. I learn that the focal point of a Japanese restaurant isn’t the decor…it’s the beauty of the food. That’s where our attention must be.
In this case, the food is A5 Wagyu beef. An A5 rating is analogous to making the Dean’s list…but for meat!
What’s Wagyu beef? “Wa” means Japanese; “Gyu” means beef. It’s the meat equivalent of champagne. The Asian cows used for Wagyu live a life of luxury before becoming a delicious delicacy in their afterlife. They are ensured a stress-free existence and fed a high-energy diet with ingredients often curated from around the world.
The result?
Vast fat deposits that produce even marbling throughout the meat like a Jackson Pollock painting. Once seared, it melts on your tongue like the finest Swiss chocolate. The marbling of the meat is graded on a 12-point scale. Our dinner’s score is a 12, which is where the restaurant’s name, “Jyuniten,” comes from. In Japanese, Jyuniten means “the highest score.” It also refers to the Buddhist guardian deities who live in the 12 heavenly realms. I see the parallel!
The other part of the name, Sukiyaki, comes from the style of preparation and presentation.
Our meat is slowly simmered at the table (which I like to think of as the foodie version of a lap dance), alongside vegetables and other ingredients, in a shallow iron pot with a mixture of soy sauce, sugar, and mirin.
Once seared, you dunk a succulent strip of sizzling meat into a beaten raw egg, red from the paprika in the chicken’s diets, and carefully transport it to your mouth.
Finish it off with a sip of Takanome rice wine—a high-end sake brand from the Yamaguchi Prefecture with a 200-year history. The rice wine gives new meaning to the term “pineapple express,” creating an umami storm of tropical sweetness in your mouth alongside the lingering savoury flavours—courtesy of the Sukiyaki-style Wagyu. So good.
I’m reminded that being human is worth all the mental anguish, heartache, taxes, pain and suffering that happens a good deal of the time!
But this is what one comes to expect from Japan
Kita-Shinagawa Street Tokyo
As for the point—I promised a point to all this—I go back to my original dilemma and how I presently think about these ethical things in my life. For how does one dive into the adventure and actually taste the meal of one’s life? I offer a concept posited by the late, great writer Hunter S. Thompson: Living versus Existing.
Thompson says, “Every man is the sum total of his reactions to experience. As your experiences differ and multiply, you become a different man, and hence your perspective changes. This goes on and on. Every reaction is a learning process; every significant experience alters your perspective.”
While this may lead to indigestion in the form of cognitive dissonance, I ultimately believe it grows us as human beings.
So, I choose the experience. The challenge. The dirt. The danger. The poetry and the art. The goodness. And even the taboo.
All, by the way, is on the menu of Tokyo, Japan!
So, while I would never seek it out, if it’s put in front of me because I am in an exotic foreign place with an interesting hospitable person, I’ll eat shark fin soup. When in Rome!
I’ll do it with itadakimasu—the Japanese custom of showing deep appreciation for the food received.
Life is an adventure to experience and grow from, and my visit to Japan will forever remind me of just how delicious that adventure can be.