These are Two of my Favorite People

My recent trip to Japan made me think about many things. One of them is I would like to start cataloguing my favorite people. Not my friends or family, who are special to me in ways that even my own flowing prose will never describe, but those people with whom I experience the briefest of encounters, although certainly long enough to pass a judgment. I’ll kick off this new thing of mine with two of my favorite people in… where else? Fucking Japan. It’s no coincidence that both people described herein are 1) men and 2) chefs.

SMOKONOMIYAKI

This is a nickname of my own devising. Basically he’s a chef who owns an okonomiyaki restaurant in Hiroshima. Okonomiyaki, I was to pleasantly discover, is a freshly made pancake stacked with noodles, sauce, cabbage, bacon, and a fried egg, griddled for 20 minutes and eaten off the same griddle. How do I know my man owns the place? Because he is thirty years older than the other employees, never looks at the customers, and smokes while he cooks. Yes, that’s right. In a restaurant where the kitchen and seating area are one, he sits on a stool in front of his sizzling piles of fresh food every twenty minutes and lights up a sweet sweet cigarette. Even in a smoke-heavy nation like Japan, it’s not exactly common to see the chef smoke without even leaving the food prep area. Disgusted? Fuck no. In fact, I popped a minor chubby when I saw this man trickle ash into my dinner. I think people would rather he smoke while preparing food. It’s . such a bold stroke of pride and confidence. He could shit in his hands and no one would leave, because his pancakes are the best in town and he bloody knows it. He also knows that the joint belongs to him, so anyone with a problem with his ways can get the fuck out, and that includes the health inspector. I long one day to own something so completely that I can, as this man does, smoke in the kitchen. I would take up smoking to have the privilege.

THE TONKATSU NAZI

He runs a small restaurant in Nasu, up in the mountains, and carries a local moniker which translates roughly to “hardass who fries meat.” When I went to visit, his restaurant was completely empty. Which, clearly, was fine with him, given the reception we got. Imagine, if you will, your own kitchen. Make it half as big, then add your shitty living room. The only thing separating your sifter from your sofa is, well, nothing. I was warned of the fearsome manner of this master tonkatsu chef on the way there, that he has kicked people out for talking too much, that he doesn't look customers in the eye. When we sat down, I noticed these and two other things: the man does not employ waiters or anyone of any kind. He runs the shit solo. Also, the menu was etched in wood. There are two options: a lot of tonkatsu or not so much tonkatsu. Naturally, I ordered a shitload of it and watched, only in the reflection of the window, the master at work. And as I observed his aged hands glide around the cooking surface like he was conducting music, I was amazed by how fluidly it all went together and how he was so focused it was as if he could literally see the future of his ingredients. He is no Nazi. He is a craftsman. A misunderstood genius, the ultimate fry cook who doesn’t need no stinking waiters. Like Zen masters before him, he has dedicated his life solely to one task: breading and frying shit, using chopsticks. And, secondarily, being a hardass. He probably killed his wife when she complained he spent too much time making tonkatsu. I contemplated this and tasted his miso soup, which is served with virtually all meals in Japan, and was shocked to taste a stronger, bolder flavor than any version of this bland vegan soup I had had heretofore. The secret, I was to find out soon, was MEAT. Of course! The birthplace of all true flavor! Joy.

While my new role model finished making my dinner, my companions whispered that the emperor of Japan eats there when he is in the area. I really hope the Nazi treats the emperor like shit as well. This, friends, is a man who simply loves making tonkatsu. If some douchebags have to eat it so he can get by, so be it.

It was delicious, by the way.