Fireworks, Fine Food & Wine, Fine Company

Watching the way a different world moves and bends is an experience everyone should have. I sat perched on a long bay window just one floor above a skinny, unnamed road for some time, my eyes drifting from one scene to the next. The old man with a blue towel wrapped around his neck, patting his forehead and taking long, slow drags of his cigarette. A young guy on a scooter loading and unloading books and papers. Two others lugging heavy stacks of women’s clothing and setting up a display out front of the tiniest three story building. Young girls scurrying to the train station, thumbs busy texting, more often than not wearing knee high socks and flowing skirts that bounced when they walk. An old woman, surely not an inch over 4’8”, moving slowly with a bag of vegetables. Taxis whizzing by with no ostensible concern for pedestrian safety, neatly dressed drivers with white gloves and clunky hats. The streets of Tokyo are a feast for the eyes at any and all moments, even when you would least expect it. At least that’s what I think.

Fast forward to evening. We head out for one of Tokyo’s largest hanabi taikai (literally, “fireworks match”), stopping at Brian and Jean’s favorite French bakery for baguette. Japan is well-known for their handcrafted artisan goods, and there is perhaps no better example of this than French bakeries. I notice hefty bags of flour with mailing labels in French under the meticulous display case full of perfect baked goods. Brian has a suspicion that they even import the water for the bread from France, for the mineral content of water can have an important influence on taste and texture. I have the pleasure/torture of carrying these baguettes for the next thirty minutes and being occasionally intoxicated by their smell.

We take a reasonably crowded train to the Mizunokuchi stop south and west from Shibuya. At every stop more people in yukata (summer kimono worn for festivals) hop on board, surely heading the same way as us.

A friend of Jean’s has invited us over to watch the fireworks from their apartment balcony. There are actually two locations from which fireworks are launched, and as we near the stop the deafening, almost war-like, boom of the explosions drowns out all other sounds.

We arrive at Mark and Nanae’s home, and are greeted by an adorable little girl in yukata who is carrying a lizard toy and some sort of Mexican shadowbox with day of the dead figurines encased in glitter inside. She takes an immediate liking to me and drags me upstairs, excitedly telling me (in adorable little girl Japanese) about how great the fireworks are. There’s nothing like little Japanese kids to make your foreign language ability feel inferior and outright awful, and Shion corrects me several times over the next few hours.

It’s a small gathering of Japanese women in yukata, their husbands, and some children. As the fireworks go on for about an hour and a half (!!!) we drink beer and wine and munch on assorted dishes. It is a treat to eat home-cooked food in Japan, and I am so happy to have been invited here! This was no traditional spread of food, however, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover the European twist to the menu. We had ratatouille with tako (octopus) and okra, traditional shepherds pie, lightly curried chicken wings, a nicoise salad, assorted yakitori (breast, cartilage, liver), fresh pasta with shrimp and tsuru murasaki (literally, “crane purple;” ceylon spinach in English), and, of course, baguette.

The three little girls playedd with pink and green frogs (“kaeri-chan”), placing them on my head like a hat and in the tiny pocket of my tanktop, and we all enjoyed champagne (Moet) and the cool wind blowing from building top to building top. Everyone then retired downstairs to the air conditioning and put on ピーターパン (Peter Pan) to calm the girls on so we could focus on drinking wine! It’s such a delight to drink wine with people who know a lot about it. And it’s quite hilarious as well. We started with a Chilean Pinot Noir, which I loved. The lightness of the Pinot and the spiciness of a South American wine really suited my palette. Next was a 1998 Chateauneuf-du Pape, which Michael described as “fecal” and “boneyard” right before I took my first sip. Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting much, but oddly enough I ended up liking it and yet understood why he described it that way - was extremely earthy and rustic (but Brian said it lacked refinement or any backbone).

We discussed the importance of the wine economy to the medieval church and I learned that in the 15th century (I think) a pope appeared in advertisements for wine that contained cocaine! At this point, the Wii came out and I watched the girls, and then the adults, try their hand at virtual skydiving. I was content to drink wine and occasionally much on little pieces of the baguette. The last bottle of wine was a 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, but I do not recall the details beyond that. The journey home seemed half as long as the one there, and I tickled little Matthew’s feet and watched him kick his legs up and down and up and down. He is adorable.

All in all, a very satisfying night!