November 28th, 2004
110165430755702052
+1 to cooking, +1 to festivity
I rolled up my sleeves today and made the stand for American holiday perseverance in a foreign land. Once again, I cooked dinner for my second Thanksgiving (date adjusted for work) in Japan, and this time with my own apartment and a vast array of kitchen utensils at my disposal, nearly tripled my output from last year. Again, with the faithful Mikiko side, I managed to put together a decent menu, though still a far cry from the copious repast I know everyone else in my family enjoyed in Fredericksburg.
Last night I raided the discount produce sellers on Rokugo dori to teeter away with a boatload of broccoli, cucumbers, bananas, potatoes and celery. This afternoon I succeeded in procuring a ceramic casserole dish at the indispensable Tokyu Hands, but after three stores failed in the search for another glassware baking pan. The end result is I had to halve the Hawaiian banana nut bread, but I nearly danced with glee upon seeing two casserole dishes bubbling side-by-side in my National/Panasonic wonder-oven at the closest ten degrees centigrade approximation to 325 Fahrenheit.
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Notice the charming nuts we have here. Must…resist…urge to say breathily “Oh, James!”…
So I couldn’t find a whole chicken at Venga Venga or the Keio department store, but it was probably for the best because I didn’t want to press my luck with already five things all cooking at once. So we had “saucy chicken breasts”, a la the unflagging domestic assistant that is Southern Living magazine. I also tried my hand at my mother’s much famed dressing (courtesy of Grandma Hynden), and the Japanese equivalent to her sweet potato casserole (Japanese sweet potatoes aren’t really that sweet, and they’re yellow). Six brown potatoes brought up the rear with a formidable serving of carbohydrates, which were offset nicely by the fresh, boiled broccoli. Of course we had to have cucumbers and onions in vinegar to top things off. And the crowning achievement for the day was a first stab at my mother’s other holiday specialty, the aforementioned Hawaiian banana nut bread. Which, amazingly, I didn’t screw up. The only thing I would change is baking it at 170 instead of 180, and for a longer period of time, so the inside gets a little firmer. Still, it tastes just great and the crust is quite pleasing.
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In the words of Michael J. Fox, “I don’t mean to honk my own horn but, ‘Beep, beep!’”
So, after a bottle of Asti, and a candlelight feast to consume the fruits of our labor, Mikiko promptly dropped off to contented snoring and I got a little closer to Chrono Cross. Now here it is quarter of midnight and I actually don’t have anything to do [at the moment]. Such a strange feeling. Something tells me I’m going to sleep well tonight. It could be the satisfaction of all that cooking (and doing the dishes and vacuuming afterwards!), or it could just be that third piece of banana nut bread.
[PS - Notice how when talking about making the bread, I said "Which, amazingly, I didn't screw up." Whenever I here something say "screw up", I instantly think of Algebra II in tenth grade. One time while our teacher was walking around to check if we were doing okay, I did a bad job of explaining some equation and when asked if she got it, Carrie Burger replied, "No, Dave got me all screwed up." This itself really shouldn't mean anything at all, but our teacher overreacted and took it in some way crass or sexual or something, and reprimanded the two of us for using such language. This made no sense at all to me as I'd seen plenty of old 50s Looney Tunes were people were referred to as "screwy", as in mixed-up, or strange. Ok, whatever.]
