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Kitchen
by:
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Chapter 1:- Fuji
The cell phone alarm wakes him to sound a female voice, "Anata okureruwayo, hayaku onkinasai! (Wake up darling, hurry or you will be late.)" They opened the shop 6 years ago together and Ken named it "Fuji (Wisteria)" after his wife to her protest and embarrassment. it was a hectic but happy time. Fujiko smiled at the rude customers, served them with courtesy and cleaned up the shop after all the customers were gone. Ken worked the tiny kitchen, the grill's flame danced as it char broiled meats, the oiled bubbled in protest as beaded cutlets were plopped in, and Ken's knife gleamed as he quickly prepared fish for the sashimi dish of the day. At the end of the evenings, exhausted, Fujiko would sit down at the counter and fall asleep while he cleaned up in the kitchen and then led her to their room above the shop. Never complaining, she worked along side of Ken and tried to keep up with the busy nights and the drunk customers.
It was one night that Fujiko would not wake to go back to their room. She just mumbled that she was so tired. Her pale face looked worn and strained.
Splashing cold water on his face, he bushes his teeth while going through the tasks for the day. He needed to remind himself what to wear, Fujiko had always laid out his clothes for him in the mornings so he could quickly leave for the market. If he was late, they would be out of the foods he wanted to serve that evening.
On his bicycle, he remembers how she would see him to the door and wave goodbye until she was out of sight. The train station was about a half and hour walk from their place but only 10 minutes by bicycle. It took another couple of minutes to find a space to park the bike then walk to the train station to catch a train to the wholesale market. He would catch the 5:50 train to Market City and arrive there little after 6:30.
He go to the fish monger first, picking out something he wanted to serve. His first choice would be something very fresh that could be served as sashimi. Next, a fish that could be cooked in a nituske (stewed in soy sauce) or grilled. There was some maguro (tuna) that was reasonably priced, the toro (fatty tuna) was too expensive for his customers but he noticed a cut that was slightly toro but reasonably priced and decided to take it. He leave it at the vendor until he finished the rest of his shopping.
His next stop was the butcher. He glanced at the cuts of beef, all were local and very pricey. Locally grown beef, even when not Kobe, Matsuzaka, or Oumi, were more expensive than imported beef. He would buy pork and chicken for some standard dishes that he always prepared for his regular customers. There were even pricey brand names for pork and chicken but were not necessary for the simple dishes he prepared. He looked over the cuts of pork and picked out nice portion of bara (rib meat). He purchased chicken wings and thighs for grilling.
With greenhouses, all vegetables were available all year around but seasonal vegetables were cheaper and he thought more tasty. He purchased daikon (white radish), round onions, green onions, shiso (beefsteak plant), and cabbage. He also picked up some potatoes as he went through the menu he would prepare for that evening.
Ken struggled with his packages as be boarded his train to return to his station. He would have to stand on the ride back, the commuting rush of the "salary men" was at it's peak. He wiggled and maneuvered to keep his packages out of harms way and the crush of stoned face passengers on their way to work. He hoped that at least a couple of them would visit his shop on their way home for a drink or two. When at last he got out at his station, Ken packed his shopping onto his bicycle and wiped the perspiration from his brow with the towel that hung from his neck. Today he noticed the bicycle creaking as he peddled back to his shop, something that he didn't notice before. The morning was still fresh but the sun was hot and he needed to get his shopping into the coolness of his shop.
Ken parked his bicycle against the wall of his shop and pulled on the door. It was locked, no one was there to greet him. He opened the door and a burst of warm air flowed out the doorway, escaping to street. He turned on the air conditioner and the smell of stale air seeped from the vent then mixed in with the odors of the previous nights cooking. The light from the entrance lit up the small one room shop. There was a counter for 8, 2 tables that could seat 2 normally or 3 uncomfortably, and a small area in the back with 2 traditional Japanese style floor tables and the now common open floor space under them to allow cramped legs to stretch out. These tables could seat 4 people each and customers with children would normally sit here to allow their kids to move about the area.
Summer was not his favorite season. It was hot and humid and Ken had to be careful of the foods he prepared, they would spoil easily during this time. As he entered the kitchen, the smell of the "Choriba (preparation area)" reminded him of his childhood days when he would visit his grandmother. Her kitchen smelled like this. A combination of foods prepared, cooked and uncooked, miso (bean paste), onions, some cooking oil and other miscellaneous things. It was not something that could be singled out but a combination of aromas. As a child, just being in his grandmother's kitchen made his cheeks ache and his stomach grow. She always had something delicious on her stove.
Ken click on the light switch and they flickered on and made a blinking sound as they glowed with their white florescence. He quickly packed away the perishable meats and fish into the refrigerator and placed the vegetables in the sink and prepared to wash them. As he turned on the water he noticed that he had forgot to buy some parsley. Fujiko would also have him get some to garnish their dishes but no one seemed to eat them. He always thought it was a waste to put something on a dish that would be thrown away. His parents were brought up during the war and food was precious and had been taught not to leave anything in his rice bowl. They would have exploded.
Today was Monday and the first day of the market so the selection wasn't as good as it would have been during the week. Tonight, regular customers Kaori, Masa, and Ushio-san would come in, and made sure he prepared dishes that they usually ordered.
Masa was an older man, perhaps in his mid fifties, single, quiet but a "strong" drinker. He would sometimes ask about high school baseball scores, especially when the school he attended was playing that day. Ken imagined that Masa was single as he would come in every evening for dinner and many drinks. Although he would drink all evening, he usually ordered only the sashimi of the day and "Akami no Maguro Sashi (red meat tuna sashimi)" was his favorite.
Ushio-san was retired doctor in his late 70's. He would start off with a beer and then ask for his bottle of shochu that he purchased as "bottle keep" at Fuji. Ushio-san was a pleasant man with a full smile of expensive dentures and gained talkativeness as the evening would pass. He would ask the same question when he ordered his food. "Yawarakai ka no? (is that tender?)" Ken imaged that those pretty teeth was more for show than practical. Always at the same time, a call would come from his wife and ask if Ushio-san was there and later, she would come to pick him up, apologizing that her husband talked too much and drank too much.
Kaori was a young girl who didn't speak much. She would come in very late, past 11 and stay for a few drinks and a meal and leave. She was always alone, quiet, and kept to herself. She always ordered the same dishes so he made sure to prepare her favorite "Furofuki Daikon (stewed daikon)", "Yakizakana (grilled fish)" and some fresh green salad with sliced tomatoes.
Fuji would open at 5 and a few customers would shuffle in for a quick beer during the summer. What customers had to drink changed according to the seasons. July, August, and September were hot and humid and Ken would order an extra barrel of beer to keep up with the demand for draft beer. As the seasons changed, his menu for food and drinks would change. Autumn announced the coming of winter and was one of the favorite food season for the Japanese. Called "Shokuyoku no Aki (appetizing Autumn)", foods tasted better and more appealing after the end of the agonizingly hot summers in Japan. The fashion on his customers would announce the change in the seasons but Fuji was the same, welcoming her customers with her "Akachochin (red paper lantern)" glowing late into the evenings. Coming in from a cold winter's night, you could always count on a hot sake to warm your bones.
The cell phone alarm wakes him to sound a female voice, "Anata okureruwayo, hayaku onkinasai! (Wake up darling, hurry or you will be late.)" They opened the shop 6 years ago together and Ken named it "Fuji (Wisteria)" after his wife to her protest and embarrassment. it was a hectic but happy time. Fujiko smiled at the rude customers, served them with courtesy and cleaned up the shop after all the customers were gone. Ken worked the tiny kitchen, the grill's flame danced as it char broiled meats, the oiled bubbled in protest as beaded cutlets were plopped in, and Ken's knife gleamed as he quickly prepared fish for the sashimi dish of the day. At the end of the evenings, exhausted, Fujiko would sit down at the counter and fall asleep while he cleaned up in the kitchen and then led her to their room above the shop. Never complaining, she worked along side of Ken and tried to keep up with the busy nights and the drunk customers.
It was one night that Fujiko would not wake to go back to their room. She just mumbled that she was so tired. Her pale face looked worn and strained.
Splashing cold water on his face, he bushes his teeth while going through the tasks for the day. He needed to remind himself what to wear, Fujiko had always laid out his clothes for him in the mornings so he could quickly leave for the market. If he was late, they would be out of the foods he wanted to serve that evening.
On his bicycle, he remembers how she would see him to the door and wave goodbye until she was out of sight. The train station was about a half and hour walk from their place but only 10 minutes by bicycle. It took another couple of minutes to find a space to park the bike then walk to the train station to catch a train to the wholesale market. He would catch the 5:50 train to Market City and arrive there little after 6:30.
He go to the fish monger first, picking out something he wanted to serve. His first choice would be something very fresh that could be served as sashimi. Next, a fish that could be cooked in a nituske (stewed in soy sauce) or grilled. There was some maguro (tuna) that was reasonably priced, the toro (fatty tuna) was too expensive for his customers but he noticed a cut that was slightly toro but reasonably priced and decided to take it. He leave it at the vendor until he finished the rest of his shopping.
His next stop was the butcher. He glanced at the cuts of beef, all were local and very pricey. Locally grown beef, even when not Kobe, Matsuzaka, or Oumi, were more expensive than imported beef. He would buy pork and chicken for some standard dishes that he always prepared for his regular customers. There were even pricey brand names for pork and chicken but were not necessary for the simple dishes he prepared. He looked over the cuts of pork and picked out nice portion of bara (rib meat). He purchased chicken wings and thighs for grilling.
With greenhouses, all vegetables were available all year around but seasonal vegetables were cheaper and he thought more tasty. He purchased daikon (white radish), round onions, green onions, shiso (beefsteak plant), and cabbage. He also picked up some potatoes as he went through the menu he would prepare for that evening.
Ken struggled with his packages as be boarded his train to return to his station. He would have to stand on the ride back, the commuting rush of the "salary men" was at it's peak. He wiggled and maneuvered to keep his packages out of harms way and the crush of stoned face passengers on their way to work. He hoped that at least a couple of them would visit his shop on their way home for a drink or two. When at last he got out at his station, Ken packed his shopping onto his bicycle and wiped the perspiration from his brow with the towel that hung from his neck. Today he noticed the bicycle creaking as he peddled back to his shop, something that he didn't notice before. The morning was still fresh but the sun was hot and he needed to get his shopping into the coolness of his shop.
Ken parked his bicycle against the wall of his shop and pulled on the door. It was locked, no one was there to greet him. He opened the door and a burst of warm air flowed out the doorway, escaping to street. He turned on the air conditioner and the smell of stale air seeped from the vent then mixed in with the odors of the previous nights cooking. The light from the entrance lit up the small one room shop. There was a counter for 8, 2 tables that could seat 2 normally or 3 uncomfortably, and a small area in the back with 2 traditional Japanese style floor tables and the now common open floor space under them to allow cramped legs to stretch out. These tables could seat 4 people each and customers with children would normally sit here to allow their kids to move about the area.
Summer was not his favorite season. It was hot and humid and Ken had to be careful of the foods he prepared, they would spoil easily during this time. As he entered the kitchen, the smell of the "Choriba (preparation area)" reminded him of his childhood days when he would visit his grandmother. Her kitchen smelled like this. A combination of foods prepared, cooked and uncooked, miso (bean paste), onions, some cooking oil and other miscellaneous things. It was not something that could be singled out but a combination of aromas. As a child, just being in his grandmother's kitchen made his cheeks ache and his stomach grow. She always had something delicious on her stove.
Ken click on the light switch and they flickered on and made a blinking sound as they glowed with their white florescence. He quickly packed away the perishable meats and fish into the refrigerator and placed the vegetables in the sink and prepared to wash them. As he turned on the water he noticed that he had forgot to buy some parsley. Fujiko would also have him get some to garnish their dishes but no one seemed to eat them. He always thought it was a waste to put something on a dish that would be thrown away. His parents were brought up during the war and food was precious and had been taught not to leave anything in his rice bowl. They would have exploded.
Today was Monday and the first day of the market so the selection wasn't as good as it would have been during the week. Tonight, regular customers Kaori, Masa, and Ushio-san would come in, and made sure he prepared dishes that they usually ordered.
Masa was an older man, perhaps in his mid fifties, single, quiet but a "strong" drinker. He would sometimes ask about high school baseball scores, especially when the school he attended was playing that day. Ken imagined that Masa was single as he would come in every evening for dinner and many drinks. Although he would drink all evening, he usually ordered only the sashimi of the day and "Akami no Maguro Sashi (red meat tuna sashimi)" was his favorite.
Ushio-san was retired doctor in his late 70's. He would start off with a beer and then ask for his bottle of shochu that he purchased as "bottle keep" at Fuji. Ushio-san was a pleasant man with a full smile of expensive dentures and gained talkativeness as the evening would pass. He would ask the same question when he ordered his food. "Yawarakai ka no? (is that tender?)" Ken imaged that those pretty teeth was more for show than practical. Always at the same time, a call would come from his wife and ask if Ushio-san was there and later, she would come to pick him up, apologizing that her husband talked too much and drank too much.
Kaori was a young girl who didn't speak much. She would come in very late, past 11 and stay for a few drinks and a meal and leave. She was always alone, quiet, and kept to herself. She always ordered the same dishes so he made sure to prepare her favorite "Furofuki Daikon (stewed daikon)", "Yakizakana (grilled fish)" and some fresh green salad with sliced tomatoes.
Fuji would open at 5 and a few customers would shuffle in for a quick beer during the summer. What customers had to drink changed according to the seasons. July, August, and September were hot and humid and Ken would order an extra barrel of beer to keep up with the demand for draft beer. As the seasons changed, his menu for food and drinks would change. Autumn announced the coming of winter and was one of the favorite food season for the Japanese. Called "Shokuyoku no Aki (appetizing Autumn)", foods tasted better and more appealing after the end of the agonizingly hot summers in Japan. The fashion on his customers would announce the change in the seasons but Fuji was the same, welcoming her customers with her "Akachochin (red paper lantern)" glowing late into the evenings. Coming in from a cold winter's night, you could always count on a hot sake to warm your bones.
