Hasu Transitoire (The Transient Lotus)

yesterday is today is tomorrow.

Life in Japan has been one grand culinary adventure. At present, I own only one pot and one fry pan, which share one wooden spoon, but I have been delighting in the kitchen nonetheless. And I intend to prove it to you. DAIKON Daikon, a large white radish (by large I mean the size of a small child...), is a staple in Japanese cuisine. It often appears in side dishes and stews – roasted, boiled, pickled, grated. Simmered daikon ( daikon nimori ) is one of my favorite preparations. The radish soaks up broth slowly over heat, and takes on many layers of flavors. A typical broth includes dashi, soy sauce, mirin, sugar, and sake. Because it soaks up flavors so well, adding fish (e.g. karei ) or meat (e.g. pork, chicken) makes for one delicious meal. Yesterday, I bought my first daikon. Rather, I bought my first half of a daikon. The whole ones were intimidatingly large. I peeled the outer skin and cut it into thick chunks, then submerged it in col

Waking up to the mountains is a mighty fine feeling. Endless forests and creeks, tea fields and tanukis , Shigaraki is the kind of place you go to and never want to leave. Shigaraki is also home to one of the best families on this planet. The Ôtani’s live on an idyllic winding mountain road in a beautiful open air home that doubles as a studio. Tetsuya and Momoko are both potters, some of Shigaraki’s finest, and they are currently bustling about preparing orders of delicate porcelain and clay ceramics. I first met them four years ago through my great friend, Cynthea Bogel, and they’ve become my Japanese family. Ôtani Rinzi is my name around here, and it's even more amusing considering that I'm a visiting researcher at Ôtani University in Kyoto (no affiliation). :) Their three girls, Hana (13), Fuu (11), and Midori (8), are off at school for the day, and the dog, Hachi-kun lazes by the door, deciding whom to stare at – me or a butterfly that flits about. I sit

The days are cooler, nights crisper, and autumn will come soon to paint the leaves. I've started sleeping up in the loft of my renovated machiya . Until the other day, I had no idea that traditional Japanese homes often had lofts...even though I live in one, I thought it was a modern design. A little research reveals that lofts, or tsushi 厨子 , were used for storage, servants quarters, or to raise silkworms. The architecture was also thought to circulate air and equalize pressure during typhoon season. Today, they are also used for main bedrooms, as I'm doing, or as dining rooms in places of business (second photo, of a traditional sweets house I visited in Nara the other day). History aside, I feel like a kid climbing up into my loft. Every day a new adventure...even inside my own home.

I’m of the tradition-making mind. I eat at the same Nara restaurant every year (as often as humanly possible in fact) and stay at the same inn. Oh, and I tend to be in Japan during September, reputed as typhoon season.The chef and innkeeper have become like family, and that warmhearted feeling is gold. Another golden day, finished with a feast of epic proportions at dear old Kinasa . Taishô seems to grow younger, his smile wider, every year we meet. I promised to come every week to see him. A belly-full evening stroll through winding alleys, minds meandering to the 700s when these very steps we trod were the power center of a newly born nation.   Traditions continued as we arrived at Manyôsô , another yearly treat…this old-fashioned Japanese inn where tatami, yukata, tea, bath, breakfast, and the big hearted and thick accented Saitô-san awaited. Sleep. Rain lullabies, softened to a stop by breakfast time. Morning Sweets shop Figs Coffee Old books stroll