Sublime

‘Well then, Mr Taro Yamada. Let’s get to business. What dish are you looking for?’ asked Koishi. ‘I’d like you to help me with a certain kind of mackerel sushi.’ ‘What kind, exactly?’ asked Koishi, scribbling away with her pen. ‘The refined type they serve at the Izu restaurant? Or something a bit more rough and ready, like you get at Hanaori?’

There are very few peoples in the world who like fluffy, sticky rice. Just the Japanese, Yunnanese, and Nepalese. Also only a few like nattō, or sticky, fermented soybeans. The people who lived here before there was a Japan or a Japanese people were part of that cultural sphere in ancient times.

‘There’s also dessert – sorry, I mean the mizugashi course. So please take your time,’ said Koishi, shrugging her shoulders. ‘That’s right, Koishi. There’s no such thing as “dessert” in Japanese cuisine. The fruit served at the end of the meal is called mizugashi. We’re not in France, after all!’ said Tae, her nostrils flaring.