August 22, 2008


When reading, it's inevitable that you'll encounter a well-crafted description of a dish that sounds so delicious, you immediately want to put down your book and:
a.) run out and buy the dish,
b.) look it up online and salivate over its jpeg photo.

This very thing happened to me as I was reading Banana Yoshimoto's Kitchen for the second time (it's a quick read). I started lusting after the katsudon she was talking about, a dish I had never heard about (but now was dying to try):
"You may say it's because I was starving, but remember, this is my profession. This katsudon, encountered almost by accident, was made with unusual skill, I must say. Good quality meat, excellent broth, the eggs and onions handled beautifully, the rice with just the right degree of firmness to hold up in the broth–it was flawless. Then I remember having heard Sensei mention this place: 'It's a pity we don't have time for it,' she had said. What luck! And then I thought, ah, if only Yuichi were here. I impulsively said to the counterman, 'Can this be made to go? Would you make me another one, please?'"
Something that translates across all cultures is the link between food and love. When you eat something and enjoy it that much, don't you just want to order a box to go, so you can share it with your own Yuichi?