If you found this blog by Googling my name or by following sundry noxious links (you know where), please note that all claims that I was fired from my job are 100% false, as are most of the other things written about me. I don't know the people who are libeling me, but it's clear they have some imaginary axe to grind and way too much time.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Sunday Funday@Mitsuwa

I made the pilgrimage to Mitsuwa, and emerged slightly shell-shocked. I'm now officially auditioning a side role for Japanese Supermarket Buddy - an infinitely patient and food-loving Japanese person (or expat) who can explain, in detail, what the weird and wonderful items in that store are used for. Or just are, as in nature of existence. When I had trouble, I tried to make it a game: in the "sake snacks" aisle I did my best to pick up three bags of completely unidentifiable edibles. Plant, land animal, or sea animal remains to be determined.

For now, Google is my Japanese Supermarket Buddy. Thanks to the big G, I've been able to identify these mystery leaves:



When I saw them, so reverently packaged, I knew they had to be important. They are none other than whole shiso leaves!

Other clearly-marked things that were no less exciting:


I'd never seen fresh whole wasabi root before. It's like knowing what tigers look like from movies and books and then seeing one at the zoo for the first time: no touching allowed, and it's probably being really boring, but you gotta take a snap!



Mmmm bluefin o-toro. Seems wildly expensive until you remember how much it costs at a restaurant.


The takeout sushi counter to put all others to shame.

The whole time I was at Mitsuwa, I wished people were waiting for me at home, docilely opening their mouths upon my return to ingest my findings like little baby birds. No such luck. I left with meager loot including furikake for making tamago gohan.

And then.

And then I went to the food court. My North Bergen-bred friend Angela, who is the only other person I know who is just as obsessed with food as I am, had raved that the Mitsuwa food court had the best udon outside of Japan.



She wasn't wrong. She never is, unless you count the time my team beat hers in our school's Iron Chef competition, Battle Alligator (HA!).

I slurped it down as shoppers swirled around me, some giving quizzical (families) or scornful (teenagers) looks to the lone girl buried in her udon. Whatever y'all. More than one boyfriend has made fun of the way I wander aimlessly through supermarkets, eyes transfixed on everything but where my cart or myself are going. More than one boyfriend has subsequently gotten annoyed at me for taking too long after tiring of making fun.

Some people like dining alone, others like going to the movies alone. I prefer grocery shopping alone.

No comments:

Post a Comment