Cooking in a closet

I wasn’t always a good cook.  My first culinary accomplishment was microwave scrambled eggs.  We had a gas stove that wasn’t self lighting and my sister and I liked to “surprise” Otosan and Okasan with breakfast in bed.  At least with the microwave we couldn’t set the house on fire.  From there I moved up to Kraft Mac and Cheese.  Then my cooking stalled out until college.  It wasn’t till I stared living with Anata that my cooking skills started to rapidly improve. We bonded over food – the preparation, the flavors, the experience.  He was a much better cook, able to layer flavors in his head and figure out just what was missing, but with his encouragement (and iron stomach) I was able to become a respectable cook.  We were always on the lookout for exciting new recipes.  It didn’t always turn out.  I remember one epic failure.  Anata left me in charge of marinade for the chicken.  He told me to follow my nose and add things I liked the smell of.  I like the smell of vanilla.  I think it was the only dish we threw out without even trying to eat.  But usually we had great success and I found myself trusting my judgment when it came to spices and ingredients.  I was getting good at this cooking thing!

Then I moved to Japan. 

Because of our mutual love of food and food preparation, Anata and I had a really well stocked kitchen and pantry.  We had the right knives and pans for most types of cooking.  We had a store of basic ingredients and rarer ones we really liked.  But Japan is not designed for this type of hoarding.  So now I had one frying pan, one pot, and one knife.  Living in Osaka I had access to slightly more utensils.  I could borrow from my roomies.  But my selection of cookware was drastically reduced.

My kitchen ... All of it.

As was my preparation space.  While my kitchen at home was not huge, it was big enough for two adults, two dogs, and a small pony to work comfortably in.  I had an oven, a microwave, and four burners.  We also had a toaster oven, but it was rarely used.  I had cupboards and counters galore.  So there was plenty of room for slicing and dicing.  Cooking in my current apartment feels like cooking in a closet compared to what I am used to.  I have two burners, but can only use one at a time.  My work space is a foot square pull out board.  My cabinets have been reduced by several orders of magnitude.  Is it any wonder I eat out all the time?

I haven’t given up completely, though.  But cooking has become a battle of wills instead of the purely joyful experience it used to be.  From finding the ingredients to maneuvering in my tiny space, cooking in Japan wa mendokusei!  It starts with me scouring cookbooks and online recipes that don’t require ovens, multiple pans, fancy utensils, or use of the metric system.  Then I have to figure out ingredients.  While this seems simple, it can be very difficult and involves me harassing old women and clerks at my grocery store.  Preparation is an exercise in quantum physics and wibbly wobbly timey wimey bits.  I have to prepare everything before I even start cooking which creates more dishes than I have sometimes.  Then I have to store them until I am ready to cook – usually in the bedroom because that is the only space available.  Only after I have washed, chopped, grated, and diced everything is it time to cook.

For the most part cooking here is just making comfort food; things I cannot find at restaurants or konbinis.  Grilled cheese, tacos, fajitas, Kraft Mac and Cheese.  But there have also been some more traditional Japanese foods.  Kare (curry), ramen and udon, hamburg steak…

When I do cook, it usually turns out pretty tasty.  But the hassle is hardly worth it most of the days.

After a year of trying to cook here, I have a huge respect for Japanese women (and men) who cook.  It is truly a labor of love One that I would like to understand a little better.  I would like to learn the fine art of tempura and steaming before I leave.  I also want to know what I can do with all the delicious looking fresh fish I come across in the groceries and markets.  Cooking in Japan really is mendokusei, but learning to do it can only make me a better cook in the long run.  Like so many thing here, the challenge, the acceptance of conditions you find yourself in and your ability to adapt to them, the way created between you, the kitchen, and the food, work to improve your character and your soul.  Food is not just food in Japan; it is an experience of mind and body.  So it would make sense that its preparation is the same.