is there ever a good time to bring up whale meat?

 It’s probably difficult to take an unbiased stance on the topic of hunting whales for whale meat. It is a reality however, that in certain places, like Japan (and where else?), whale has been hunted and eaten for hundreds of years. During the restoration after the war, whale hunters supplied the impoverished population with thousands of tons of whale meat to bolster food stocks.

MacAurthur, as it happens, encouraged this practice – possibly because it was a cheap source of food, and also possibly because excess whale oil was then taken back to the United States and Europe, where it was used in the making of many things from lamp oil to soap. In fact, it became such a main source of food that only a few years after the war, over fifty percent of the meat eaten in Japan was whale meat. It’s since the end of the war that whale meat became a staple of school lunch, and even though it lost its popularity as Japanese consumers were able to afford pricier meats, asking around I’ve noticed most people remember having eaten whale at school growing up.

The loophole - if you want to call it a loophole - that Japanese whalers have operated on since the International Whaling Commission banned commercial whaling in 1986 is a provision that allows countries to catch a certain number of whales for scientific research. The meat from these scientific catches is then distributed for sale and eventually reaches grocery stores and restaurants. Mm, science meat.

 

Because this is a very sensitive topic to a lot of people, I’ve tried my best to remain neutral, but you can probably pick up my bias anyway. For those of you that live under the “don’t fry it until you try it” mantra, I will just say this – I have eaten whale. A sashimi plate of it was pushed upon my nose under the pretext that it was a cut of beef served rare.

Upon eating the first bite, the old man who had invited me to try it burst out uproariously, “It’s whale! Haha!” I protested that he might have considered a method other than deceiving me into eating it, his words: “What are you, Green Peace?”

a sticky situation with honey, jam, and unlimited crackers

On a drive way out to Karuizawa in Nagano prefecture, I noticed the air getting cooler and cooler as we climbed through the mountains. The snow had nearly all melted away off the Karuizawa ski slopes by the time we got there, but the sakura cherry trees were still in full bloom. Having watched the flowers drop off those trees in my more tropical (well, tropical enough to have a few palm trees, anyways) town of residence a full month before, it was refreshing to see. But that wasn’t the main attraction for driving out into the middle of nowhere.

No, Karuizawa, wouldn’t you know it, is a well-known shopping destination. Fueled by the money pouring from a community of wealthy vacationers and retired salary men with a penchant for golf, this sprawling country club and shopping mall serves all the world brands names that you would expect – Burberry, Chloé, Dunhill, The Gap.

But it wasn’t hand-bags and suit jackets I was looking for. Down the streets and beautifully flowered lanes heading away from the mall, Karuizawa opens itself to the specialties of its region – honey, jam-making, and hand-carved wood furniture.

 
The beauty of these shops was the free samples! Bins of crackers lay out, with sample spoons for the testing and trail of every imaginable type of jam or honey. Fig jam, chestnut tree honey, blueberry and rum jelly. Barely avoiding a diabetic overdose, I munched my way through dozens of shops in search of the perfect cracker bite. I found it in a raspberry and red wine jam that became the purchase of the day. Kudos Karuizawa, now I just need some cheese.

Kamakura

Miko priestesses dance at a Kamakura shrine to gagaku music

dango roasting over a grill

Visiting Kamakura, an ancient temple site that has long been a standard omairi locale for the Japanese, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I have already been to Todaiji and the Daibutsu, so the famous (although very slightly smaller) giant Buddha in Kamakura is a local next step.

Still, while the temples are in fact quite beautiful, there are so many of them and they are of a similarity such that looking at them one after the other is, well, tiring to say the least. There's only so much walking through gates and admiring of chrysanthemum flowers that anyone can take before their stomach starts grumbling.

sweet sake manju steam buns

Fortunately I happened across a section of town that offered hot food and treats from street-side stalls. Dango, dumplings made from sweet rice flour and skewered before roasting, are a specialty of the region.

I also enjoyed the soft fluffy texture of sake manju – steamed buns made with sake and sweet adzuki bean filling – on a bamboo bench while watching the crowds mill about shopping for trinkets and snacks. The three flavors pictured, from the left, were yomogi, kokutou brown sugar, and mochi rice. Yomogi is a Japanese variety of mugwort, but it's not nearly so bad as that sounds. Think of it as a leafy and faintly flavored kind of an herb. In Japan, it's mostly used as a kind of natural food coloring, although it does impart a nuance of vegetative flavor to the steam bun.
 
I munched on sweets and snacks for a bit longer before deciding that my stomach was telling me it was time for something more substantial.

Lunch led me to sausages. Thick, bratwurst-like sausages with local craft lager from Enoshima. A German experience is not exactly what I was expecting out in a rural and old-school-traditional Japanese town, but it was good nonetheless.

And it had the biggest line in front of its stall. I guess times do change.

warabi hunting

up in the hills over the Seto Inland Sea - a good place for warabi hunting

This weekend I was out rooting for warabi - edible bracken fern sprouts -  in the mountains above the Seto Inland Sea. You have to pick them while they're young, before the leaves unfurl and open up and they apparently become inedible. They sort of bury themselves under the dried leaves of the previous year's fern fronds, so you have to search them out.
 

warabi growing in the mountains

To prepare warabi for eating, you first boil up a big pot of water. Keep the sprouts in another bowl. When the water boils up, add a little baking soda to it.

Pour the boiling water over the sproutlings and leave them to soak overnight. Wash them again in cool water, and they're ready to go.

You can also then leave them in a mixture of water, soy sauce, mirin, and rice vinegar for a few hours if you want an authentic Japanese flavor to it.

Warabi sprouts are filled with a sticky, okra-ish fluid and might be considered an acquired taste, although the flavor isn't very strong in any particular direction.

In Japanese cooking, warabi generally plays the part of small side dishes served with rice and fish. I'm also planning on coming up with some original dishes for this unique ingredient, but I'll get back to you on that later. For now, good hunting!

I know I am, zaru you?

Recently I found myself hiking through the mountains in the rurals, when I happened across this udon and soba shop. Kind of a strange thing about Japan, but delicious places are often out in the middle of nowhere sitting all by themselves. I went inside to find a narrow hallway of a place already filled with families and a soccer team.

what could be simpler?

This area isn't known for soba - Japanese buckwheat noodles - as well as other areas, so it's somewhat rare to find. I ordered it zaru, which means it comes as is, cooled noodles on a big plate with a pot of tsuyu broth for dipping. Soba tsuyu is basically a thinned dashi with some soy, and then they often give you wasabi to mix in as you like. Yes, I happen to like a lot, thanks for asking.

I know some people are confused by a giant plate of noodles and only noodles. Isn't there supposed to be a sauce or a chicken breast on it or something? But I've come to appreciate the simplicity of it. If the noodles are made well, it's quit delicious. As a lunch, the simple carbohydrates keep slow-burning away until dinner when you're feeling pleasantly hungry again. And hey, if the amazingly culinary Italians like pasta with just a little olive oil on it (and they do), this doesn't seem so strange.

tsunami (not food)

Tsunami damage and nuclear holocaust aside, it has been a fairly uneventful week. That has to sound strange, callous, and backwards, but look. Western Japan was not hit as hard as the north: in fact this area is unaffected to such an extent that my only experience of the situation is coming from the news. And even the news has started to trickle out, and now normal programming is resuming on TV, with only intermittent interruptions for announcements and broadcasts from the emperor (THAT was not normal). Regardless of the fact that Fukushima is still not under control. Regardless of the fact that people are waiting in the snow for water and blankets.

I am unable to help them, of course. I understand that on an intellectual level.  Even if volunteers were being accepted, which they are not (since they would also have to be fed and blanketed, as well as directed), my profession does not lend itself to emergency situations. Maybe just like Ryo Ishikawa said, doing your daily job the best you can may be the only thing to do right now. But it doesn’t sit well. Of course I’ve also donated, which you can too. I donated directly to the Japanese Red Cross. But then, I live here, so all I had to do was drop it in a box. For those overseas, online methods are also available. If you are donating, I recommend caution in selecting only well-established organizations like the International Red Cross and Salvation Army. I’m sure you’ve been flooded with links to these sites by now, so I don’t need to post them here, but please, consider donating.