• Japan Through My Eyes
• Japan - No Problem
• Travels to the South: A Trip to the Other Japan
• Omiyage - Art of Gift Giving
• Ukiyoe: "The Floating World" Revealed
• Seto: Japan's Porcelain City

Japan Through My Eyes

by Joseph Lieberman
Travel & Leisure Photojournalist

"Daddy look!" The young Japanese boy was clearly excited as his newly arrived family left the baggage concourse and entered a food court at Los Angeles International Airport. Eyes wide, the child pointed to a signboard and shouted, "Unbelievable! They have hamburgers in America too!"

I have been equally amused by the misconceptions of several of my friends as they prepared to fly over to Tokyo or Osaka for the very first time.

"Can I get my fish cooked instead of raw?" they ask, or "Does coffee really cost eight dollars?", and my favorite, "Do I have to learn how to use chopsticks?" I assure my comrades that they will find all of the same options "over there" as they do here, complete with forks, knives, cooked fish, all-you-can-eat buffets, vegetarian cuisine, and some coffee priced at less than the morning latte they are used to drinking here at home. And yes, they'll find hamburgers too.

That is not to say that they won't encounter delicious surprises and some intriguing alternatives not to be found elsewhere. After all, the Japanese are famously adept at adopting and adapting foods from nearly every known culture on earth. In fact, it would be safe to say that the biggest problem in Japan is not having too few options, but rather too many.

So how does one begin to sort out this kaleidoscope of edible alternatives? Actually, the first step isremarkably simple. Let's say you've just arrived in the clamorously pulsating heart of a major Japanese city, the place where all the prominent corners are taken up by major department stores (called depato in Anglicized Nihongo). All you have to do is step into any one of these bustling behemoths, ignore the full-bodied aroma of perfumes and cosmetics, fly past the wardrobe accessories and head straight down to the basement.

Surprise! Instead of finding bargain bins or sports supplies, you are now facing countless aisles of fresh, sautéed, baked, grilled and pickled foods. Smoked fish to the left of you, cream cakes to the right, and seventeen varieties of dried seaweed dead ahead. For every glass case filled with familiar fried chicken or comforting German sausage, there are three more displaying items you do not even recognize as food. Not to worry! The business concept here is "Try Before You Buy!" In other words, the samples are free and they are not just offered, but thrust upon you.

Now you are probably thinking, what is there to stop some less than scrupulous soul from making the rounds twice over and ending up with a very satisfying meal without purchasing a single thing? And the answer is yes, some people have been known to 'take advantage' of the system just a wee bit. There is, however, an immediate and more moral alternative: simply get in an elevator and ride to the top. Just as surely as the lower floors of Japanese department stores are filled with comestibles, so too are the highest levels reserved for a stunning array of moderately priced cafes, ice cream parlors and restaurants.

And now comes the fun part. You will have noticed by this point that every shop in Japan selling victuals is fronted by window displays of the most realistic-looking plastic food ever devised. Each item has a label and  price and there is no need for a menu. When you see what you like at a price you can accept, simply pop inside the door, gently grab the elbow of the nearest server, and lead that worthy person to a position where you can point to what you so hungrily yearn for. Even if they do not speak English, the message will get through. As far as seating etiquette, most shops are first come first-served, and popular eateries may scrunch you in beside total strangers. Think of it as a great opportunity to meet the locals. After the meal you seldom pay the wait staff. Instead, you bring your bill to the cashier and don't worry about leaving a tip. There is no tipping anywhere, anytime in Japan. If you did leave a tip, the embarrassed waiter or waitress would follow you all the way downstairs begging you to take your money back. Something similar actually happened to me.

During my first days in Japan, I was hurrying to an appointment when a ten yen piece (about ten cents) accidentally dropped from my pocket. I ignored it and rushed onward, zig-zagging through the crowd until three blocks later, my swift passage was interrupted by a red traffic signal. A few seconds later, I heard a heavy panting sound and felt a tug on my sleeve. Looking down, I saw a wizened little grandma smiling wearily and holding up my ten yen piece. Having seen it fall, she had felt obliged by honor to return it to me, no matter what the cost to her health or destination. It was at that precise moment that I understood I was in a country unlike any other on earth. That feeling has never left me, and it is what keeps me coming back for more.

The street level honesty that is so much a part of Japan takes most foreign visitors by surprise. Walking down a dark lonely city street at night feeling as safe and secure as if you were at home, this omnipresent lack of fear is at first difficult to adjust to. Nevertheless, once you get used to it you begin to realize that this is the way society is supposed to work. The difficult part is later leaving that and going back to what most of us grew up with.

Still, while you are there, why not make the most of it? Take the ordinary perils usually associated with drinking, for instance. If we are to trust our scientists, we now know that moderate amounts of alcohol are beneficial to human health. Of course, the key word is moderate, and this is where a drink like sake could get you into trouble, if you were in some less reliable nation.

The fact is, the pure and almost sweet taste of sake is deceptive. Served cold in summer in a square wooden cup, or hot in winter in what looks like a ceramic thimble, sake is the kind of alcoholic beverage that seems to be having little effect as you drink it - as long as you remain seated. It is when you attempt to stand up that the sly cleverness of this seductive liquor asserts itself.

At that point, and especially if you are driving, it is good to have a sober friend to convey you homeward. For those occasions when all your mates are in a similar (or worse) condition, the Japanese have created a wonderful invention that other nations would do well to emulate: the double-man taxi. It is a simple plan. The barman dials a number and a taxi shows up with two drivers. The extra driver is there to pilot the private car of the inebriated personage to his home address, while the taxi follows close on their heels. Once the driver has been paid, the tipsy client is delivered safely into the arms of a welcoming (or coldly fuming) spouse, and the double-man taxi is off again to its next assignment. If only every culture could be so civilized.

Food, of course, absorbs a great deal of alcohol, and when it comes to after-hours establishments that pair grub with grog, there is no shortage of choices. As sleepy urban clocks wend their way toward midnight, hunger-driven night owls need only to follow their noses, for there is no more delicious smell then the smoky aroma of barbecuing beef, pork or chicken wafting from dozens of yakiniku and yakitori shops. Moreover, even these carnivore lairs offers up some tempting vegetarian dishes, such as onions and peppers roasted on skewering sticks over an open fire.

Slightly more sophisticated are Izakaya restaurants, where a good menu can run upwards of a hundred items, ranging from sushi and tofu to pizza and salads. All are presented on small plates, similar to Spanish tapas, and most are relatively inexpensive. My favorite dish on a cold night is known as nikujaga, a surprisingly Western-like hot boiled potato in broth with sautéed beef and onion.

Another late night option are the portable ramen stands that set up on street corners after the commuter rush has long departed. These wagons often have a scarlet curtain shielding the upper bodies of the half dozen or so patrons sitting on simple, rough stools under a wide wooden roof, a charming throwback to less complicated times. The reddish glow coupled with the appeal of hot noodles is an irresistible temptation, one last chance to end the day with a full belly.

Noodles, of course, are pervasive throughout the Japanese archipelago, which delighted me to no end, for when it comes to starches, plain rice leaves me cold, breads vary in appeal and potatoes can be boring, but I never encountered a noodle I didn't like. In Japan, noodle offerings range from the traditional to the richly imaginative.

In western Honshu's Yamaguchi Prefecture, the town of Ogori is justly famed for two things. It is the starting point for tourist rides on a giant steam locomotive, and it has noodle shops serving a large square matting of green-tea flavored buckwheat soba on clean, new roof tiles. The tiles are heated in an oven, and strips of beef, egg, and dried seaweed plus a shrimp or two are added atop the crispy roasted noodles.

Sanuki Udon is one of the most characteristic dishes of Kagawa Prefecture, Shikoku, as much for its presentation as for its taste. All around Takamatsu you can find it served in giant wooden tubs called 'tarai'. Meant to be shared in group-style feasting, it originated in the Edo Era as a lunch time repast for hungry forest woodcutters, hence the wooden tub. Modern diners happily grate their own ginger and toss spoonfuls of diced scallion over their personal portions.

In Tottori Prefecture and a few other locations on the Japan Sea side of Honshu, hungry patrons can experience the delayed gratification of preparing their own buckwheat noodles from scratch in what's known as a 'soba-doujo', a combination cooking school and cafe. The theory is, food you've prepared yourself always tastes better, or maybe it's just that you work up quite an appetite doing all that manual labor around steaming water.

And speaking of steamy water, the famous, relaxing and affordable hot springs of Japan are often paired with unusual food items. The soothing baths of Wakayama-ken's Yunomine Onsen in the tiny mountain village of Hongu is a hot springs resort with a pedigree that goes back to the very roots of Japanese history, with records dating from around 1800 years ago.

For those with a culinary bent, Yunomine Onsen also symbolizes natural health food cooking. The cooking is done, of course, in a separate area from the sauna and pools, but the sulphur-laden waters are used not only to actually cook the food, but as an ingredient in it as well! Onsen fans claim that the colors of vegetables are clearer, meat is tenderer and all food has a milder taste. This holds true for onsen miso, onsen coffee and even onsen yogurt.

I encountered an even more unusual food of nature at Minoh, just north of Osaka. Being a native New Englander, I am, naturally enough, a major fan of maple syrup which is a sweet nectar tapped from the trunks of robust, broad-leafed trees, painstakingly collected when spring allows this fluid to flow in slow steady drops. The maples in Minoh, however, are smaller, with delicate miniature leaves, and here, it is not the maple sap but the leaves (so much easier to collect) which are eaten.

The leaves are first preserved in salt, which removes the hard spiny part as well as any leafy taste. The five-pronged form of the leaves is certainly in evidence even after its fried, but you'll be hard pressed to find any semblance of the leaf itself after you take a bite... it seems to be totally absorbed into the batter.

Osaka is also home to one of two major styles of okonomiyaki, a truly native Japanese creation. It is a very low budget meal, and this savory 'do-it-yourself' skillet-fried dough cake can be ordered with almost any combination of ingredients. Still today, the Hiroshima style is to 'layer' the okonomiyaki upon a portion of yakisoba (fried noodles).

Most okonomiyaki is cooked right on your table, which is one of the reasons it so much fun. Of course, there are never any complaints that the food cooled off on its way from the kitchen. It also makes a great dating meal because it is low cost and gets couples cooperating on the cooking.

Japan's most famous "yaki", of course is sukiyaki, which even had a hit song named after it. This again is a meal you would never consider ordering on your own. I think this quality demonstrates how many of Japan's foods were really socially designed for small groups or families.

Sukiyaki is pretty much a large pot of stew with thin-sliced beef, tofu, scallions, and konyaku potato noodles. But be careful how you ask for konyaku, because a very similar word means 'marital engagement'. With the wrong pronunciation, you might think you are ordering potato noodles and instead end up proposing marriage.

Actually, having fun with the names of edible items is a tool of mnemonics that can help students of Japanese more easily memorize the language while they enjoy eating what they study. Take sumomo, for instance. While most everyone knows that sumo wrestlers are fat, round gentlemen, sumomo are fat, round plums. If you minus the 'su', momo are fat round peaches. Easy to memorize? Wait, there's more.

Let's consider onigiri, the ultimate Japanese simplicity food. It is sometimes nothing more than a triangular fistful of plain rice packed into a covering of dried seaweed ("nori"), and it may also have an inner 'core' of fish, fish eggs, or snappy preserved red plum ("umeboshi"). Now, if you separate the two sound units of onigiri, the first part 'oni' means 'demon' (if you say it without looking at the kanji), and the second part, 'giri', means 'duty'.

Okay, 'demon duty' might be a hard way to remember the name, but the 'giri' part is used in another food, 'giri-choko'. Sounds exotic, but it comes from an interesting Japanese custom of shortening English words into useful expressions, such as 'convenience store' being shortened to 'konbini'. In this case, 'giri-choko' is the chocolates women give to men by necessity and out of a sense of duty, rather than out of affection, on Valentines Day. That's right, in Japan, girls give guys candy for Valentines. But many ladies (such as secretaries) feel obliged to give sweets to people they care nothing about personally (such as bosses). And don't worry, a month later, boys return the favor giving chocolates to girls on 'White Day'. Obviously, the candy industry is absolutely delighted with these customs.

Some foods have names it is simply fun to say. The Japanese equivalent of Swiss beef fondue is shabu-shabu, made with boiling water instead of hot oil. It is a slow and thoughtful meal, because after dunking each piece of meat or veggies in a steaming cauldron in the center of the table to cook, you dip them in a marinade sauce just before eating. Naturally, such a slow-paced feast promotes plentiful opportunities for lively conversation, especially since it is often accompanied by tall glasses of cold beer.

Tempura, another world-renowned Japanese invention, gives us a great chance to sharpen our skills with chopsticks. Those lacking such skills simply call it finger food. Still, it can get a little messy, since each piece of breaded vegetable, shrimp or squid is deep-fried in hot oil before you dip it into daikon (giant radish) sauce.

While tempura, okonomiyaki, sukiyaki and shabu-shabu are true Japanese originals, and truly delicious, I personally have recorded less than a perfect score when it comes to some Japanese versions of Western foods. Take, for example, my donut adventure.

I first arrived in Japan after nation-hopping for six months from New Guinea through Southeast Asia up to South Korea. In those days, the backpacker cafes we take for granted now were fewer and farther between. On my first Osaka morning, I was wandering aimlessly, and desperately homesick for Western style food. Like a miracle, there suddenly appeared before me a local outlet of an American donut chain. There in the window were all my childhood favorites, including, best of all, jelly donuts. Or so I thought.

I ran inside, bought two, and walked over to a nearby park eagerly looking forward to a taste from home. Big mistake. I took a big bite and my face screwed up in perplexity. WHAT was THIS? It looked like strawberry jelly, but thicker and pastier. And on closer inspection, I could make out... beans?! "Who put beans in my jelly donut!?" I shouted at some startled pigeons.

That was my introduction to "an" (called "anko" in Kansai dialect) - a sweet red "azuki" bean paste, and the most common filling for many a Japanese bakery treat. I have since accepted this novel invention, but at the time I was startled and disappointed. Lesson learned: except for truly international restaurants, don't look for the West in the East. It is what it is.

On the other hand, curry rice is an excellent example of how Japan can very successfully adopt and adapt foreign foods to suit its national taste - and ours as well. Curry rice (or "kariraisu") is a low-priced staple found at nearly every cafe and "kissaten" (coffee shop) in the nation.

Unlike the mouth-burning curries of Thailand or the endless aromatic varieties of India and Pakistan, Japanese curry is almost always uniformly mild. From Kyushu to Hokkaido, from inner cities to remote countryside, you can pretty much count on finding much the same flavor and gentle brown color in every standard Japanese curry you encounter, and therein lies its reputation as a warm and welcoming "comfort food" no matter where you go. This is considered a good thing, something you can count on when life gets stressed out, especially in unfamiliar surroundings.

There are exceptions, however, and one of them is probably the biggest food bargain in Japan. Curry houses that specialize in that dish exclusively, shunning all other offerings, have menus filled with simple alternatives such as curry with pork cutlet or curry with fried fish, and so on. So far, no major surprises. But look a little closer, and here and there you will find curry houses that also offer a choice of normal, large, and giant servings, as well as three to four "grades" of hotness.

If you get lucky (and you are very, very hungry) a few of these curry specialists will post a sign challenging any diner to finish off every last drop and grain of their largest, hottest curry rice. If you do so, the meal is free! You can tell which shops these are because they keep a camera on hand and put up photos of patrons who survived the challenge and asked for more. No, I never personally attempted it, but it proves that there IS such a thing as a free lunch, even in Japan.