Japan & Food III: Market vs. Supermarket

No way can I list all of the dozens of vending machine drinks I’ve had over the past 5 days, so I’ll just mention a few notable Potent Potables:

1. Aquarius Sports Drink (Coca-Cola product): Kind of like Pocari Sweat, but in a different PET bottle and with an odd, chemical aftertaste. Meh. Not recommended.
2. Asahi Ginger Draft: Beer, but with a slight gingery aftertaste. Weird. I no likey. Not recommended.
3. Kirin Fire Menthol coffee: Coffee, but with a slight minty aftertaste. Weird, but not in a gross way. Kind of tasty, actually. Recommended.
4. Minute Maid Morning Orange: Much like its sister beverage, the hated and loathed Morning Banana, this had an acceptable orange-y flavour, but all the texture and mouth-feel of vomit. Not recommended.
5. UCC Deep Master coffee: 50% something! Much darker and less sugary than most vending-machine coffee, it has a kick like a mule, but isn’t bitter. Quite nice, considering it comes from a can. Recommended.
6. Suntory Gokuri Peach: Black label, dripping peach, little heart after the logo. Sugary, but fruity. I like. Recommended.
7. Yakult: In tiny bottles or huge bottles, it’s all good. Milky-looking but lastes kind of tangy and lemony. Really unique and addictive flavour. I love it. Recommended.

Japan, like Canada, has both fresh produce at outdoor markets and packaged stuff at indoor supermarkets.

While in Kanazawa, I visted the Ōmichō-ichiba, which (for my Toronto audience) was like their local Kensington Market, except all inside a covered arcade and selling way more seafood.

I also visited the huge supermarket in the underground mall directly below Hiroshima train station, and did some field research there, to see what was different from our supermarkets at home. Sadly, my geeky internal monologue kept interfering with my scientific examination of the evidence at both markets. Here are my findings…

Market: Ōmichō-ichiba, Kanazawa

I realized fully just how much of a nerd I am when the endless boxes of crabs for sale at Ōmichō-ichiba made me think first of the quote from the movie SuperTroopers, where Mac says “…And that was the second time I got crabs,” then of the level in Katamari Damacy where you have to reconstruct the Cancer constellation, and then the piles of dead squid staring up at me looked like the Ood from Doctor Who. Sigh. Such a geek.

Also, childishly, every bucket of fish heads I see makes me hear that 1980s Dr. Demento song. You know the one I mean… “Fish heads, fish heads, rolly polly fish heads; Fish heads, fish heads, eat them up – Yumm! In the morning, laughing happy fish heads; In the evening, floating in the soup… I took a fish head out to see a movie, Didn’t have to pay to get it in… They can’t play baseball, they don’t wear sweaters; They’re not good dancers, they don’t play drums… Rolly Polly fish heads are never seen drinking cappuccino in Italian restaurants with Oriental women. Fish heads, fish heads, rolly polly fish heads; Fish heads, fish heads, eat them up – Yummmm!”

I digress.

My philosophy for eating unfamiliar, unlabeled or unappetizing-looking things on this trip has been “what’s the worst that can happen?” With the exception of fugu, generally speaking the worst that could happen is a few unpleasant hours spent in a bathroom or experiencing weird-smelling, strangely-coloured pee, but so far this trip *knock on wood* not even those unfortunate fates have befallen me.

I must admit, however, there are limits to my culinary sense of adventure. In the realm of meat, I’ve drawn the line at eating horse, and I still kind of gag at the thought of eating something while it is still alive and kicking. But I had to overcome this last cultural reservation when visiting Ōmichō-ichiba.

A very nice fishmonger saw me photographing his wares, and kindly offered me some VERY fresh baby tako. So fresh, it was still sort of writhing weakly. I gulped, but not wanting to seem rude, said “domo arigato!” and took a bite. I steeled myself to the task by thinking that I was saving the world from a potential future cthulhu, scourge of the seas and demon of the deep.

To rinse my brain from that experience, I stopped at a local sushi shop for some sashimi and to try a famous local dish called jibuni, made from boiled and seasoned duck and various vegetables. I am disappointed to report that I think the sushi chef gave me the crappiest cuts of fish because I was an obvious foreigner, as the sashimi wasn’t as fresh and luscious as I was expecting, given the proximity of the market. The duck was also mediocre; overcooked and mostly fat, very little dark juicy meat.

Supermarket: Hiroshima

I found the supermarket interesting, but a tad overwhelming. I think I finally cracked when I saw the green tea and white chocolate bagels. I mean, they were GREEN. I wanted to write Japan a concerned letter:

Dear Japan,
Re: Green Bagels – UR DOIN’ IT WRONG.
Sincerely,
M.

Here is a list of some things I saw in the Hiroshima supermarket that made me go “hmm”:

1. * Asahi “Style-Free” beer (totally without style!)
2. * Brown paper packages, tied up with string
3. * Asahi “Off” beer (it’s just… off. Eww)
4. * Green tea and chocolate bagels (as mentioned, terrible)
5. * Weird tomato jelly dessert balls, shaped like tomatoes (I know tomato is technically a fruit, but still…)
6. * Tomato liqueur (when did tomato become a flavour for booze??)
7. * Clear jelly in a box (”Honey, don’t forget to pick up clear jelly at the supermarket!”)
8. * Seedless raisin clusters *still on the vine* (they look mummified, it’s creepy)
9. * Creepy cow cream in a tube (probably just condensed milk, but the packaging is nightmarish)
10. * Bananas in clear plastic bags (why would you re-package bananas? Srsly?!)
11. * Kiwi Pocky (bought some to bring home; first time I’ve ever seen this flavour)
12. * “UFO” brand noodles (ha ha)

Tags: Ōmichō-ichiba, crabs, cthulhu, Doctor Who, fish, Food + Eating + Cooking, green tea bagels, Hiroshima, Japan, Kanazawa, Katamari Damacy, market, Ood, overpackaging, squid, Supertroopers

Getting to Kanazawa: Lost without translation

On Tuesday, at Skye’s suggestion, I made my way to one of the “overlooked jewels” of Japan: Kanazawa.

The reason Kanazawa isn’t terribly popular as a destination is:
a) it’s located on the West Japan Railway’s Hokuriku Line, off the Shinkansen train line, so depending where you’re coming from, you might have to take some extremely local trains to get there, and
b) it’s in what the Japanese call “Snow Country” (although at this time of year it’s more like “Rain Country”, or I guess just “Precipitation Country”… I digress).

Since I was departing from an equally not-so-visited town in Japan (Shimo-suwa is not so popular with the English tourists, either), I had to make 2 connections to get to Kanazawa. The first was at Minami-Otari, a small rural station in what looked to be a logging town. For my Canadian audience, we’ll say that if Tokyo was Toronto, and Shimo-suwa was Mississauga, Minami-Otari was like Blind River, or Pickle Lake.

In Japanese terms, it was a one-vending-machine kind of town. I did a spot of research, and it turns out there are about 5.6 million vending machines in Japan, which calculates to at least 4 vending machines per 100 individuals, and in the cities more like 1 per 30 people. There was only one vending machine on the train platform, one inside, and another outside the station. Crazy.

My favourite thing about Minami-Otari was the station stamp, which looked like Juan Valdez and his mule Conchita carrying a load of coffee beans. Hilarious! For folks who haven’t traveled here: in Japan, every train station and castle has a large round rubber stamp, so you can prove you were really there by stamping your travel journal. So yes, Minami-Otari was quite small.

I had 8 minutes to make my connection. I arrived on platform 1 and didn’t know where to go, so I asked the friendly station master, who was the only person in the station. He spoke no English, and I spoke no Japanese, so there we were, lost without translation. Eventually we worked it out with hand gestures and clock faces, and he indicated I should proceed to track 2, quickly.

I lugged my heavy suitcase over the bridge (no luxurious elevators in Minami-Otari!) and stared at what appeared to be a bus that had accidentally driven onto the train tracks. One car only, with what looked like a token receptacle inside, packed to the gills with people holding ski gear. “This can’t be right,” I thought to myself, and before I could find someone who looked like they might help me, the doors closed, and the bus/local train chugged off into the distance.

“No matter!”, I thought to myself. In Tokyo there had been a train leaving every 5 minutes, to practically everywhere in the country. I was sure there would be another train to Itoigawa (the next connection before Kanazawa) in another 15, maybe 30 minutes at the most. Not so much. The train station dude looked really disappointed in me when I emerged from the overpass. He shook his head and gestured at his watch again. 2 and a half hours to the next train anywhere. I parked myself and took out my knitting, and sat in silence, at the silent train station, vowing never again to get off the Shinkansen line.

Once I reached Kanazawa, I was in no mood to admire their lovely modern station with its huge wooden torii melding seamlessly into a vast overhead shell of glass and steel. It was rainy and cold, and I was tired. I was shocked to see dozens and dozens of hotels, since I knew the area didn’t really cater to foreign tourists, but apparently it is very popular with Japanese tourists.

I made my way with minimal effort to the Ryokan Shibaya, where Stephen had thoughtfully booked me in the night before. It looked closed when I arrived because all the lights were off; I soon discovered this is a popular practice in shops in this town, as they are conserving energy (every day is Earth Day in Kanazawa!) but it was a weird at first to enter a dark staircase leading to a dark lobby and then ring the bell. Naturally, the proprietors here spoke no English either, but they were friendly and patient, the inn was lovely and clean, and my room spacious, with nicely swept tatami, a comfortable futon and working heater. I slept nicely.

The next day I awoke to pounding rain on my window panes. Kanazawa has a local proverb: “even if you forget your lunchbox, don’t forget your umbrella”. I hate umbrellas, but I had to cave and buy one at the train station, to save my poor camera lens from getting soaked as I wanted to take photos. I then set out to explore Kenroku-en: The Garden of Six Attributes… more on that next post.

Tags: Japan, Kanazawa, local trains, Minami-Otari, Ryokan Shibaya