Cuts like a knife

So I've gone and done it -- I bought a Japanese knife. It's a deba bocho, to be exact, a knife carefully angled to cut fish, chicken and meat. I've been using it for the last week to slice leeks alarmingly thinly and sprinkle them on cold tofu. It's not the most inventive arrangement, I know, and probably insults the butcher. But work has been creeping into my kitchen time so it's the best I can do for the moment. This weekend, I'm planning to maul a chicken, so perhaps I'll be back in your good graces.

Even more scary than the knife is the stone that I'm supposed to use for sharpening. It looks innocent enough, a 1,000-grade rectangle, brick-like and sandy. The knife-selling man near Kappabashi Dori gave plain instructions. Soak the block for 10 minutes in water. Then take it out, place longways in front of you, and hold the knife at a 45-degree angle against the stone. Then push the knife away from you, one section at a time, until you're satisfied with the results. It's this last part that has me worried. I'm afraid I'm going to shave the thing down to a toothpick.

If I did it would be a one-sided toothpick. The thing is, this is a left-handed knife, so that the edge falls only on the left edge. The right side looks as plan as a sheet pan. Finally, after all these wooden spoons and butter knives crafted exclusively for the right-handed, I have a not-to-be-trifled-with tool that dresses left. It's about time.

But time has been my problem for the past few days, so I haven't had the chance to take the knife for a true plunge or to get the stone wet. Instead, I worked up a recipe that combines ideas from two of my favorite food-blog writers, Clotilde and Molly (or perhaps I should say, Brandon). Here's lunch, which takes as long to make as it takes to shred a carrot, and is a good midday break when you have to eat at your desk.
















2 to 3 carrots (I use one huge Asian carrot; sorry I don't have a scale), grated
1 can chick peas, rinsed
1/4 to 1/3 cup sliced green onion or young leek

For dressing, combine:
1 heaping soup-spoonful of good quality, natural peanut butter
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon sushi rice vinegar (I believe in the states they call this 'seasoned,' which means it has some sugar in it)
1/2 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
3 to 4 tablespoons warm water

Mix all dressing ingredients save for the water; use the water to thin out the dressing to your desired consistency. Combine all. Makes two servings.

Avocado and shredded cabbage would be wonderful additions; my cupboard was just a little bare. Still, it's nice to know you can make a healthy lunch with only two main ingredients and a left-handed knife.

Lunch at 185 mph

Something exciting is happening. I tried to capture it but failed, so you'll have to take my word for it. Maybe you'll cut me some slack. After all, I was skipping away at 300 kilometers an hour.

The rice is beginning to glow. The dull green stalks are waking up, brightening as if they're sipping light and it's trickling up their insides. By the time it gets to their tops, the green has turned into gold flecks, like lightening bugs buzzing about during the day. Yes, green is going yellow in a luminous way, and it all means that fall is just around the corner.

Fall in a great big city in a foreign land, isn't quite the same as home. Yes, leaves rustle and blow. Dogs and their keepers step lively through parks. Street lights dangle merrily in the wind. Still, it isn't the same as a walk through Green Lakes, where the fall makes leaves turn lavender and persimmon and dozens of colors in between. But Tokyo ain't central New York, where I lived for eight years, so we must move on. Plus, what does any of this have to do with food?

Enter the shinkansen, or bullet train to you and me. I love the shinkansen and would rather ride it than board a plane just about any day of the year. If I could figure out how to ride it from Tokyo to Seoul, a route I travel quite often, I would. There are big seats, big views and bento boxes. That, and a good book, are just about all I need.

Eki bento lunches began popping up at the turn of the century as trains began tracing the lands. Bento boxes had come into their own beginning in the 17th century when the merchant class began to grow. People would carry rice wrapped in leaves or placed in a box -- what we call onigiri -- and do to work, the theater, the outdoor mall. With trains, food sellers eschewed the fancy lacquered boxes and invented the perfect picnic lunch.

A bento usually follows certain proportions -- more parts rice to less parts protein to even lesser parts salads and pickles. It should involve many little tastes and a fair amount of vinegar to help keep the food fresh. I picked up one I thought contained maguro, raw tuna. It turns out it was something quite different, salty and slightly slimy in texture, but I managed to get it down. I was told later it might have been stomach or bladder. I didn't ask whose stomach or bladder. Once you pick your bento box, you've got to eat it or go hungry. The train goes fast, but it still takes a while to get home. And meanwhile, you've got the glowing rice outside to keep you happy.