Just Food

Many of the meals Blake and I have eaten in Japan have included this little interaction:

-Look at that guy.
-Holy crap, that is a huge bowl of noodles.
-How does he expect to eat that?
-There is no way he can eat that.
-Why would anyone order such a thing?

I don't know about those people, but this lady ordered one on accident.

One of the unexpected things about Blake being deployed is how my eating habits have changed. I knew they would change at home, but they've changed when I eat out too. When Blake and I are together, it is acceptable for one of us to order a safe, relatively "normal" looking dish, and one of us to order something off the wall. Because I am eating solo, it is up to me to choose the safe path or the adventurous path. You never know which option will be rewarded with tasty greatness.

In Oak City Mall, the McDonald's called to me. The picture of the fries gets me every time. I knew, though, that if Blake ever found out I'd eaten at a McDonald's while there were so many Japanese options, he would divorce me. So, I went with a non-threatening bowl of noodles and soup. They weren't udon (big, white noodles), they weren't ramen (skinny and yellow) and they weren't soba (buckwheat noodles). I don't know what kind of noodles they were. I do know, however, that there were a crap-load of them.

When the lady handed me the bowl, I know I overreacted. I was visibly shocked, eyes huge, mouth agape, frozen for a few seconds before finally taking the tray from her. I couldn't very well run screaming from the food court.

Unfortunately, I could not take a picture that really did this bowl justice. No matter what angle I took a picture, no matter what I put next to the bowl to try and put it in perspective, it just didn't look right. Take my word for it. The top side of this bowl was bigger than my face.

And then I had to eat it. It's kind of like when you know you have a really big job to do. The process seems so daunting, you don't even want to start.

I started with the tiny shrimp and bits of seafood. I ate the noodles, some onion. And I've got to say, it is the most bland thing I've eaten in this country yet, and that includes a slice of white bread. I can only assume they did this on purpose because nothing could so lack in salt and flavor on accident, not with so many tasty things in it. The gyoza were delicious, of course. I've yet to meet one I haven't wanted to eat over and over again.

Yesterday, I ate this:

There's a little ramen place not far from where we live. No, this isn't a bowl of ramen (and yes, the bowls of ramen here are ginormous), but it was amazingly delicious. There are ramen noodles (or ryu-men as the menu says) buried under the sprouts and beef. It's so good-looking, you'd think it was fake. Which is funny, considering there is so much fake food in this country. Many, many, many restaurants display fake versions of their dishes in a window at the front of their shop. They look something like this:

Except this is a real plate of food. It's a little disconcerting when your food shows up looking exactly like the plastic replica, right down to the reflective finish. This was supposedly chicken, but it was a strange color and a frightening texture.

I couldn't let the last picture be of a dish that was completely awful, so here's a picture of yakitori:

This adorable woman sets up her little yakitori grill in front of a grocery store near Seya Station. I asked if I could take her picture. She was very nice and even gave her me best jazz hands. Better yet, I had a delicious skewer of chicken dipped in amazing sauce. She was also selling skewers of liver, which I am not a huge fan of. Japan is a country that loves their bits. Random bits of animals are routinely sold pretty much everywhere. Anything tastes good grilled and dipped in sauce.

Blake is eating a lot of barbecue too. Wait, did I say barbecue? I meant barbecue sauce. While my food has been hit or miss by my own decision making process, Blake's food has been miss or less-of-a-miss on the ship. I can't help but ask him what he's been eating lately. My questions have often been answered with "We had________. It wasn't that good, so I just put BBQ sauce on it." 

The other day I let slip that I'd had an avocado. I immediately tagged it as an over-share when Blake's email response included a very, very sad and pathetic "I'd really like to get my hands on that avocado." Unless they do an underway replenishment, fresh fruit is scarce. It's a good thing Blake is so busy. It keeps his mind not only off home, but off his taste buds, which may never be the same again.