Tanabata and Charcoal Grill Anko

(7/7)

Today we went out to celebrate my host dad’s birthday, even though it’s still two days away. I’ve been forever bugging them in the most roundabout ways that I know how, to escort me to a little restaurant about 5 buildings down called ‘Charcoal Grill Anko,’ and tonight, we finally went.

My affection for the place began months upon months ago, just around the time when the brisk winds of autumn became the chilling torrents of winter. Back in those days I would often walk all the way down to Sangenjaya on foot, or if not that far, then the large grocery aways down the street, and since my walks would often happen under the cover of darkness, my return journeys always took me past the curiously enthralling, often bustling Charcoal Grill Anko. I can’t say what it is about the place that cast a spell on me, but just the overall aura of it was intoxicating. As I would walk in and out of the shadows of buildings at night on my way back home, the smallish wooden sliding door that is the entrance, with small, plate-sized square windows just large enough to let you peer in to see the men inside, working behind massive, hot grills, their hair pulled back in bandanas, their close a mysterious and alluring black as they serve people at the bar beer and dinner, drew me in. The place itself seemed to glow invitingly, a warm, honey-colored glow that washes comfort over you in a world of florescence. Beside a Dominoes pizza and an out of use shop, this restaurant, above all others, seemed to offer a different side of Tokyo, a side I wanted desperately to see but never have (and was too timid to brave on my own). And so, I would always, on my walks, slow down, sometimes stopping at the door, and watch the young men cooking inside and it would make me happy and I would smile, and then I would glance up at the massive, torso-sized lanterns bearing the shop’s name that hang on either side of the door, and proceed on my way.

Flash forward about eight or so months and I finally make the not-so-subtle hint that I want to go, that finally hit’s the target and me, my host dad, my host mom and the grandma all walk the two minutes or less down the street and for the first time ever, we enter the shop. Now, situated next to the bar dining is an outside, triangular-shaped, raised wooden porch that they put in about five months ago. As we enter the restaurant, we’re greeted by a chorus of ‘Irasshaimase’ (welcome), and the manager and the other young cook look up briefly at our entrance, but are quick to return their attention to the food on the grill before them. We are offered a table upstairs, but because the grandma has a hard time with stairs, we’re ushered out onto the porch instead where there are three tables waiting and empty. And I got a flash of what I’ve idealized as the ‘salary man’s eating joint.’ Instead of stools or chairs at the small tables, there are red and blue plastic crates (like people ship crates of beer or milk bottles in) which are covered with colorfully designed cushions. Beyond, out facing the street and the passersby is a glass display case like you might see at a butchers, and in it are displayed all the fresh foods ready to be cooked up (corn, meat, eggplant and other veggies). On the wall nearest me is an old 30s or 40s vintage poster of a women in a kimono advertising Yebisu Beer, and then a yellow fabric banner offering beer and another fabric banner often seen this time of year. This second banner is white on the top, blue on the bottom and in the middle, in bright red, is splashed the kanji for ice. This is an advertisement for shaved ice, the treat of choice in this oppressive, almost sadistically humid and miserable weather we’re having.

Against the far wall are blackboards whereon are written the specials in white and neon green marker, and this wall is made of wooden slats, and in these slats are stuck, just a few, colorfully decorated handheld fans (decorated with fireworks, koi, etc.). In the far corner, which isn’t that far at all, is a charcoal grill (as opposed to the grill inside which is more like a hibachi grill), and from time to time a guy in a traditional-looking shirt encircled by red carp, would come through with fish skewered through, or vegetables, and would place them on the grill, the fish’s dead eyes looking at the world upside down as he is placed over the charcoal. And there also stands a very thin bamboo tree which was decorated with colorful slips of construction paper for the currently running Tanabata festival.

Tanabata, written ‘seventh night,’ is a festival falling on July 7th (aka 7/7) every year, though its decorations are around for much longer. The history of this festival is as follows. Once upon a time, high, high in the heavens there was a beautiful princess who was so skilled at creating fine woven masterpieces that she was called Orihime (Weaving Princess). Her father was Tentei, ruler of the universe and he took great joy and pride in his daughter and her magnificent works of art. But, over time, Orihime grew lonely, for so busy was she with her weaving that she scarce had time to seek for someone to love, and seeing his daughter’s sorrow, Tentei introduced her to Hikoboshi, who herded cows up in the star fields. When the two met, they fell instantly in love and married soon after, but so preoccupied was Orihime with her new husband, that she stopped weaving, and Hikoboshi, for his part, neglected his herds and thus they wandered all over the heavens. At this, Tentei grew very angry and divided the two by the river Amanogawa (The Milky Way). Heartbroken at being wrenched from her lover’s side, Orihime fell upon her father and wept, begging for mercy and so Tentei decreed that, if Orihime worked hard the year round at her weaving, he would let the lovers meet on the seventh day of the seventh month every year. And so, to celebrate this reunion, the Japanese write wishes on colored paper and create paper chains and tie them on bamboo, some even floating them down rivers on small boats.

Now that you’ve got your history lesson for the day, let us proceed.

So, in honor of Tanabata, the restaurant had drinks for $2 on 7/5-7/7 and we made it just in time. As has somehow become my custom, I ordered soju (a type of rice or potato alcohol) cut with water, and my host mother started ordering a list of dishes off the menu for everyone to share. I don’t know if it is my host family alone, or if it is a common Japanese custom, but it seems that whenever we go out to eat, rather than each person ordering a dish for themselves, my host parents order about six or seven dishes and everyone shares, which is rather nice, I think as its more social and you get to try everything. To eat we had a shrimp and vegetable dish in a sort of sweet miso/soy sauce, cold potato salad with a hint of curry powder in it, squid and daikon (Japanese radish) cold in a sauce, pepper steak that fell off the bone it was so tender, grilled vegetables rapped in a thin bacon, thinner than American bacon and grilled on the grill (okra, zucchini, tomato and mushrooms), and all kinds of different yakitori (grilled chicken kabobs, sort of). And the one dish I did try (was coerced into trying) though I should have taken a hint from my host dad who just sat by and watched, was cold, raw chicken liver. Not a fan. Not. A. Fan. I somehow managed to get it down, but it took the rest of my soju to wash out the taste. Then there was a minced chicken sausage on a stick dipped in a raw egg and soy sauce (Japanese people eat raw eggs A LOT) and then rice which was served in a peculiar way. I suppose it was a more traditional way of serving it, but instead of a dish being brought out, we were given a wooden tray. On the tray was a dish of cold water which the rice serving spoon sat in (rice is sticky, so the water is to keep the server from sticking) and then there was a wooden, circular steaming box topped with a metal thing, which you open to reveal steamed sticky rice and vegetables.

Minus the raw liver (my own mistake), this was by far and away the best food I’ve had in the 10 months I’ve been here, and that’s up against some pretty tough competition. The chicken, in all its various forms, was so flavorful and tender and wonderful. And the ambience of the place was just an added bonus. Our waitress was dressed in a Yukata (a lighter, informal summer kimono), with a fan stuck in her sash/belt, and at one point, the manager came in carrying a spiral of incense (that serves as mosquito repellant) in a watermelon shaped hanging pot, to which my host dad replied, ‘Oh, that takes me back.’

So, though it was just going out to eat, something I’ve done several times now, this outing was more fun that I’ve had in quite a while. If you’re ever in the area, I highly advocate going to ‘Charcoal Grill Anko.’

These pictures here are of a bridge near my school which was built around a Tanabata theme with Orihime on one side (of the highway), her lover on the other, and the rest of the bridge is decorated with the various constellations cut into the concrete of the bridge.





PS - You may have noticed, but the layout is back to the one I had at the beginning. I figured it might be nice to finish how I started ; )

The Lockup and the Manga Cafe

First of all, Shibuya was teeming with next to a bajillion people. Like seriously, busier than I've probably ever seen it. Coming out of the station, you couldn't even shove your way to the Hachiko statue to meet anyone, so I had to go and wait over by the police box for my host brother and his girlfriend to come get me. Chalk it up to a Sunday night towards the end of Spring Holiday I guess, but it was madness. Luckily, host brother had made us a reservation and knew where the place was so we were secured a table once we got there. The Lockup is down in the basement (of course it would be) of a building full of restaurants, and you find yourself crossing over from a regular, well-lit staircase to a dungeony type of cave staircase where the only light, and really, there was hardly any, were sparse blacklights. You push your way through an eerie, metal door with warnings splashed on it in paint which have since mostly chipped off. You're so focused on not tumbling down the stairs, that as you begin to wind your way through the almost pitch black labyrinth leading to what you hope is a front desk, when things start jumping out at you from the walls, you of course jump. The entrance is long and narrow and like any spookhouse you'd see in the USA, except for a very shifty and needless spot right before you get to the real entrance, where they've removed a patch of the floor and inserted a padded trampoline instead so that you feel like your falling when you take that last step forward.

So we pushed through to the waiting room where a young girl in a skimpy policegirl's outfit (complete with hat and handcuffs), is waiting to take your name. (I might mention here that all the girls are dressed likewise, whereas the male waiters are dressed in comfy-looking black and white striped pajamas made to look like stereotypical jail uniforms, complete with a serial number). So we sat down to wait, since we were a bit early. Underfoot are those disk-like things you can get at Spencers, where you touch them and the little lighting bolts follow your fingers. From time to time, alarms would go off and guys dressed like masked murderers or monsters would come barreling through. And yes, the one with a Jason mask, dragging chains behind him thought it would be clever to fall on me. I found it neither scary nor clever.

So finally our turn came up and the scantily clad hostess girl whipped out her handcuffs, clapped one on me and one on my host brother, and led us off to our 'cell,' with his girlfriend trailing behind, snickering. Rather than just tables, you get your own cell. And it's really cool because it's its own entirely enclosed room, with only the metal-barred sliding door exposing you to the outside. I liked it because it made it quiet (the music outside was blasting), and rather intimate. Also, rather than chairs, they had a low table and just cushions, so you sat cross-legged (and you had to take your shoes off at the door). Once we were seated (his girlfriend and I steated away from the door), we perused the menu, first selecting our drinks (all themed after mad scientists and served in test tubes or beakers as seen in the picture), and they picked out about 9 dishes (literally), for us to all share. I might note that last night was half price night. So, once we'd decided what we wanted, we pushed the order for the waiter and a rather strikingly tall and handsome young man in his striped pajamas slid open our door and took our order. Not long after, the food started rolling in. The drinks, while novel, were not at all worth their price. It was hard to believe there was alcohol in them at all, as they seemed more like soda mixed with flavored syrup. Everything, for whatever reason, was spicy-based, most things containing kimchi, which wasn't looking good to my stomach, though it turned out alright in the end. We had: nachos, cheese/beef fried tofu, seafood salad, another kind of salad, bread with curry sauce, vegetables with three types of dipping sauce, Taco rice, Spicy kimchi ramen, and this funny little dish where they bring you five small bowls that all look identical, with soup in them, about four soba noodles each, and on top, hiding the contents, fried tempura batter bits. What was interesting about this dish, is that 3 of the 5 dishes were fine and tasty, but 2 of them were almost entirely wasabi. So we all chose one and while my host brother's girlfriend and I looked at each other, satisfied with the taste, he started howling out and crying, because he'd gotten a wasabi one. There were two left, so she and I tried again and this time it was she who got the bum one. I'm just lucky I guess.

So we finally finished our food and were just sitting around, which I found odd since it was apparent we were done eating, so why weren't we leaving? Naoki then explained that it was only 8:30 and the trains would be packed. Then he offered to take me to a mangakisa, or manga kisaten which is a Manga Cafe/Internet Cafe. Just when we were getting ready to buzz for the check, (I might mention that my host brother's girlfriend had switched and was now sitting next to him, by the jail door), all the lights in the entire place went out. Over the loudspeaker came sirens, then red flashing lights, like cop lights, started whizzing around on the ceiling and a pre-recorded, fervent male voice came on saying that "there had been a break out and that monsters and murderers were now on the loose. Don't leave your cells. We're on the pursuit." A few black lights came on, and the sound of loud, and I mean LOUD slams started echoing all around as the 'monsters' were going through and throwing the barred doors open and shut. From my vantage point in the far corner, I of course could see whenever any of them were coming, but his poor girlfriend could not, and all of a sudden, a guy in a mask would throw our dow open and leap in (and I literally mean hurl himself into) our little cell, such that if you didn't leap away from shock, he might just barrel into you. This went on for a good 15 minutes or more, always catching her off guard, though my host brother was ready with the camera most of the time. At one point they tried to get the monster/murderer to hassle me, both of them pointing my way, but thankfully that's when a voice came back onto the overhead saying that the cops were closing in, so all the masked spooks started going back down the mainhallway to the break room while fake gunshots on the intercom let us know the cops were shooting them down, and then promptly after, a police girl came by with a flashlight as long as her arm, looking in at us, asking if we were okay. And that was that. We got the check and left. It was quite fun, despite me not being the spookhouse type.

After that we went one building over, up one floor through an arcade and into a pachinko parlor where buckets upon buckets were piled on the floor filled either with pachinko chips or real, legitimate coins. Then through there we passed into an elevator, and up to the sixth floor and out into what looked to be a quite posh VIP club, but which happened to actually be the Manga Cafe. Naoki paid our way for an hour and requested a booth for 3 (they have all sorts of rooms, even ones with massage chairs). On a nearby computer they looked up the Manga "Fruits Basket" for me and took me up the escalator to the next floor where the girls comics resided. They also explained to me that at this place, and perhaps all Manga Cafe, I don't know, the drinks are nomihoudai and the ice cream is tabehoudai, which means all you can drink and all you can eat. And sure enough, when we went back down the escalator, all the vending machines we saw showed a $0 for the prices. (I might note here that not only does Japan have regular vending machines, but some that brew your coffee for you, add sugar and milk according to how much you imput and then push it out to you, just like a Starbucks barista). So I got a milk tea, he got coffee and she got ice cream and we went back to our room/booth/cubicle. Again, you take your shoes off and enter the little cubicle space where there are leather floor chairs (since you're sitting on a waist-high raised floor), and pillows, hangars, a closet, a TV, a computer, super expensive headphones, and a playstation...all there for your use. Many people who cannot afford an apartment, or who are visiting and don't want to bother with a hotel, will stay in these cubicles because they are clean, comfortable and relatively cheap, comparatively. It had the feel kind of, like a cross between a VIP lounge and a library. So we read for an hour. They'd pulled 4 volumes of Fruits Basket out for me, but I only made it to four chapters, since my reading in Japanese is slow. After our time was up, we took the manga/magazines and reshelved them and left. How the people at the desk know who left on time and who didn't, I'm really not sure. And that was pretty much the end of my adventures.

I'm Lazy

Hey there Y'all. So, I'm being lazy and haven't really posted lately. I promise to make a legitimate post tomorrow...or the next day. Today I'll just mention the difference in ordering at a restaurant. Here in Japan, when you enter into a restaurant you're either seated by a waiter or, in a more casual establishment, you go sit yourself down wherever you want and then a waiter comes and gives you water/tea and a wet washcloth (a warm one if you're lucky), to wipe your hands off. After that, you look at the menu at leisure, and here's the big difference between the US/Europe and Japan: a waiter doesn't come to take your order. In fact, they don't come around at all after they've given you your towel. So as not to make you feel rushed/show any impatience on their part, Japanese waiters mill around and busy themselves withother stuff and when you are ready to order, want a refill, or need anything whatsoever, you raise your hand, or call out "Sumimasen (excuse me)" and they'll drop whatever they're doing and come help. Also, because many restaurants use digital, handheld order taker things, no waiter is specifically assigned to a certain table, so you can catch just about anyone and ask for what you want. This is a helpful tip for those coming to Japan so you don't sit around forever, then get angry and impatient because no one has come to take your order. Also, there is NO tipping in Japan. It is considered very rude to even try. And while there is tax on things, it is always included in the price you see, which they calculate to come out to an even number. So if you see a dish that says 1000 Yen (appr. $10), it is really something like 980 Yen, but with tax, it's 1000. Pretty handy stuff. That way, you can add up exactly what you're going to spend before you get to the counter, and don't have to worry about what the tax percentage is. Well, I promise to post more interesting things tomorrow: bean throwing with actors, a Denny's by the sea, and getting chatted up at Tsukiji fish market. Sorry I'm lazy! Later you guys!

Kento's ~ Where the Oldies are ~

So, today's word of the day is: Saikou (最高) which more or less means, the bomb, or the best. Like to give an example, tonight my host mother, her girlfriends and I went to Kento's for drinks and it was Saiko...aka, the best.

I believe...

I believe that when you can go to a blast-from-the-past gin joint and watch a full band (complete with sax, trumpet and trombone) dressed in zoot suits playing Engrish versions of Super Freak, I Will Survive and Shake Your Bootie under the glow of the mirrorball, you have moved closer to heaven. And when the next band up is a doo-wop group decked out in baby blue 40s suits (their dancer/singer girl in a right-out-of-Grease poofy skirt), with their hair pomade-ed up a mile high like Presley, singing One Fine Day, Ba-ba-ba-bamba and Shake, Rattle and Roll, I think you're there. Such was my experience in a place called Kento's. Evidentally a chain, with locations in Roppongi (where we went), Ginza, Yokohama and Shinjuku, Kento's offers a haven-space for the over the hill crowd, where everyone can pack into a far too small area and dance to the good-old oldies (most, if not all of which are English). Kento's seemed to be a dazzling mixture of both bar/live house/disco, alternately becoming one or the other ever few minutes or so. While the clientele were mostly made up of people over the age of 40, the staff, strangely enough, was quite the opposite. The bar master didn't look a day over 26, and all the waiters (all male but one), were far younger than him. Which I found interesting. The place itself is a small, smoky bar, basically, decorated with old Kellog's and Coca Cola posters from the 50s, and old rusted license plates that read "Too old to Rock and Roll, Too young to Die." There is a constant rotation of music, where the band of the night (or if you're lucky like us, two) come up on the stage (or the step if we're being literal), play about six songs, during which the entirety of the audience (except for me), gets up and boogies, and then the band finishes for a while, allowing the audience to sit down and talk and order more drinks. Perhaps because of the age of the clientele, it was like a club in that everyone gets up to dance and they all go wild, but it wasn't like a club in that you don't have to worry about anyone trying to grab your butt, which is nice. (Though a random guy asked Horita-san, my host mom's friend, for a slow dance!) It would seem that the Kento's in Roppongi usual has the band Scarface (one of tonights' bands) play, and they do mostly disco music. Since my host mom likes disco and motown, they go alot, in fact, they even have point cards. All in all, it was a total blast. While watching Scarface (all older musicians) do the Saturday Night Fever dance was too amusing, I still like the Doo-Wop band better, just because I'm older at heart. And strangely enough, that band was mostly young folks. Very odd.

Before our trip to Kento's, we went to dine at the Akasaka Grand Prince, in a restaurant overlooking the whole of the city from the 40th floor, housing a buffet sporting king crab, filet mignon and flame-cooked foi gras. Oh yes. I love my family. Coming to Japan has bumped me up a few rungs on the social ladder, and I'm not entirely certain I'm going to like being bumped back down again, once I come home. I mean, what am I going to do when I can no longer go shopping for $500 kimonos, eat at 5 star restaurants, hobnob with celebrities (that's another story) or go on weekend trips to far off places. What will I do with myself. I think the only solution is to marry a rich husband. It must be done.
http://www.kentos-tokyo.jp/roppongi/