food

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The Three Amigos at a Nomikai

My husband and I were invited to a nomikai, or drinking party, for my office, and my coordinator showed us how to make penguins out of our wet napkins. My husband exclaimed, “Ah, the three amigos!” before we explained to my confused coordinator what it meant.
It was a fun party. Unlike American office parties, Japanese office parties normally has tons of alcohol and not the weak kind either. There’s premium beer, sake, and owamori, a strong Okinawan alcohol that holds a candle to vodka or tequila. Most Japanese people can nurse these liquors without doing any gross or sightly damage. My husband, being a newcomer to all things Japanese, was impressed with their drinking and eating ability.
What impressed the both of us was when my coordinator told us more about the Okinawan people. “We focus more on relationships here. You can’t buy friendship.” That’s something I’ll always remember. Well, that and the three amigos.

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Papa’s Kitchen in Okinawa

I was invited to a women’s luncheon at a school I worked for and the restaurant turned out to be an Italian restaurant. I love Italian food!

First, they served salad (sarada) with an egg soup, light cheese-tofu square, and a bit of meatloaf with a dallop of mustard. It tasted very well, though the taste was more towards the Japanese tastebuds than the Italian ones.

Pasta promptly followed the salad. It came a big, funnel-like bowl and looked like it wouldn’t completely satisfy my Italian-loving tastebuds. I was wrong; the pasta was absolutely delicious. The sauce wasn’t too heavy and the pasta wasn’t over or undercooked. It definitely beat out the jar of Prego my husband and I bought from San-A (a chain grocery store similar to Vons or Albertsons).

Handmade bread came to our tables in baskets, fresh from the oven. Having no oven, I had forgotten what it was like to eat handmade fresh bread. The outside was slightly crunchy while the inside was soft and fluffy. It reminded me of the bread served at the Cheesecake Factory, except this bread didn’t have that cardboard-paper taste. There were two kinds, wheat and white. The wheat was slightly sweeter than the white, and knowing that it was healthier as well, I took more than one slice of the warm bread.

Once the bread was nearly gone, the main course arrived, piping hot and beautifully arranged. A single piece of potato, broccoli, daikon (Japanese radish with a slight pungent flavor), and some purple mush I couldn’t identify surrounded a slice of saucy chicken. The chicken was so plump and moist, the vegetables flanking it was almost forgotten. The sauce was slightly sweetened and complemented the chicken and the various vegetables. As everyone ate their entree, I could hear the purrings of approval from the other women. Some even dipped the handmade bread into the sauce.

Lastly, the dessert came. Served with a thinly-sliced piece of sponge cake were arranged fruits and an ice cream cake. The fruits, which turned out to be sliced bananas, baked apples, and strawberries, tasted fresh but not overly sweet. The ice cream cake was chilly with its vanilla ice cream and cranberry cake mingling together for a wonderful, soft flavor. After the dessert, coffee or tea was brought to everyone, and it needed little sugar to sweeten the end of an amazing meal.