Morning finds me looking at Japanese restaurants on Yelp. A friend is in Tokyo, posting photos of food and suddenly, I have to have some. It's the food of my childhood. My soul wants it as much as, if not more than, my stomach. I need Agedashi Tofu, my favorite.
The smell, the taste, the texture on my tongue, and the way it feels on my hashi (chopsticks) all combine to take me home to the tiny, warm space where I spent my days with Yamada-San while my parents taught English and Christian Studies at Kwansei Gakuin University in Nishinomiya.
Just entering the restaurant feels right. The smiles, the bows and the decor touch me in ways I can't explain. I'm not Japanese, but you can't tell my soul that! I feel a happy cry when I smell miso soup or see a bowl of sticky rice or taste a fresh slice of ginger. Today, I'm in search of something to feed my soul.
In addition to the tofu fried in tempura batter, I'll have Oyaka Donburi, green tea and ginger ice cream for desert. Yes. That should do it!
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