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CupcakeQ has moved!
2 years ago
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Do You Know Where You Are?
Have you ever had a moment, usually when you're in the middle of a sentence, or waiting impatiently for the pedestrian lights to change, when from nowhere, a seemingly obvious observation pops into your head.
'Do you know where you are? You're standing on a street corner in Hanoi or Buenos Aires or Vienna. Fancy that.'
And you shake your head at the strangeness of it, as though comprehending the truth of the statement for the first time. Then you become a little baffled as to how you actually got to be where you are, and why you never noticed it before.
I had one of those on Saturday. I was sitting at a table sharing lunch with a student of mine at Tokyo Midtown. Tokyo Midtown is in Roppongi, one of the upmarket and swish parts of Tokyo. It's a huge complex of gallerias, restaurants and boutique stores surrounded on one side by a garden.
It was early, and the rush of lunch hour had yet to begin. We were the only people in the restaurant and there was a sense of quiet before the storm, as the staff milled around and prepared for the onslaught of the day, without minding us too much.
The chef was from New York but was in Tokyo for a few weeks. He was a panellist at the same conference as my student and so came and chatted with us briefly a few times as we ate.
On his second visit, he brought out a bowl covered reverently with a white paper towel. Underneath, nestled snugly inside were 3 shellfish.
They were about 30 cms in length with shells the rich ochre of ancient paintings and deep red flesh that was slightly translucent.
The creatures had been sent to him from a well renowned chef from Kanazawa but he didn't know, and indeed nobody in the kitchen knew, how to cook these unsuspecting critters.
Did we know? I think the question was directed more at my student than me, but I appreciated the inclusion nonetheless.
We started throwing around ideas, the world famous chef, the culinary expert and the cooking luddite (me). Fry them? Boil them? Eat them raw?
I watched one of the little creatures squirm and expand against the confine of its shell, as though stretching lazily, then looked up out the window.
I saw a woman lean into the cold winter's wind as she crossed the road trailed by 2 little kids. Behind her, the clipped green grass of the garden was short and neat. Further beyond the skyscrapers rose and extended into the distance, their neon Katakana dim against the sunlight.
I shook my head a little mystified and a little bemused, as a voice in my head said. Do you know where you are? You're in Tokyo looking at shellfish no one knows how to cook. Fancy that.
'Do you know where you are? You're standing on a street corner in Hanoi or Buenos Aires or Vienna. Fancy that.'
And you shake your head at the strangeness of it, as though comprehending the truth of the statement for the first time. Then you become a little baffled as to how you actually got to be where you are, and why you never noticed it before.
I had one of those on Saturday. I was sitting at a table sharing lunch with a student of mine at Tokyo Midtown. Tokyo Midtown is in Roppongi, one of the upmarket and swish parts of Tokyo. It's a huge complex of gallerias, restaurants and boutique stores surrounded on one side by a garden.
It was early, and the rush of lunch hour had yet to begin. We were the only people in the restaurant and there was a sense of quiet before the storm, as the staff milled around and prepared for the onslaught of the day, without minding us too much.
The chef was from New York but was in Tokyo for a few weeks. He was a panellist at the same conference as my student and so came and chatted with us briefly a few times as we ate.
On his second visit, he brought out a bowl covered reverently with a white paper towel. Underneath, nestled snugly inside were 3 shellfish.
They were about 30 cms in length with shells the rich ochre of ancient paintings and deep red flesh that was slightly translucent.
The creatures had been sent to him from a well renowned chef from Kanazawa but he didn't know, and indeed nobody in the kitchen knew, how to cook these unsuspecting critters.
Did we know? I think the question was directed more at my student than me, but I appreciated the inclusion nonetheless.
We started throwing around ideas, the world famous chef, the culinary expert and the cooking luddite (me). Fry them? Boil them? Eat them raw?
I watched one of the little creatures squirm and expand against the confine of its shell, as though stretching lazily, then looked up out the window.
I saw a woman lean into the cold winter's wind as she crossed the road trailed by 2 little kids. Behind her, the clipped green grass of the garden was short and neat. Further beyond the skyscrapers rose and extended into the distance, their neon Katakana dim against the sunlight.
I shook my head a little mystified and a little bemused, as a voice in my head said. Do you know where you are? You're in Tokyo looking at shellfish no one knows how to cook. Fancy that.
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