birthday bash

Uchiyama Miyoko`s desk is next to mine. She`s an English teacher whose grasp of the language is the best of all my Japanese friends. Last week, in conversation, she mentioned her birthday which had passed in January. I wished her a happy one, asking how she had celebrated. She told me no one, husband or sons, had remarked on her birthday. Her daughter-in-law had sent her an e-mail the week before though. My face must have said it all as she went on to explain it`s really no big deal in Japan. I told her we had to commemorate the event and asked when she was free for dinner. We agreed on the next night.

this is a photo we took at a work party several months ago.


As I was returning from work the following evening, I gave her a call. She sounded so excited and explained that, due to the snow, her husband could not return from his business trip so she was free early. The bad weather had meant my usual 1 hour commute home had turned into a 3 hour nightmare so I was ready for a beer and told her to come on over. She nearly beat me there. We set off exploring Nakamachi street and settled on a sleek, stylish restaurant I`d been eying since arrival. The server was a bit nervous in the presence of a foreigner I think, as he addressed her and ignored me. Each time he would ask her a question for both of us, I would respond on my behalf. She is very good about letting me practice and stepping in only when needed to clarify something. She also gets a kick out of people`s reaction to my comprehension of Japanese. We started with a set menu; chef`s choice of dishes. He asked her if there was anything I couldn`t eat, to which I replied uni and ikura aren`t my favorites. We started with a green salad topped with proscuitto, shrimp and a thick white dressing that bore a close resemblance to the anchovy and egg taste of ceasar. It was a welcome change from the ever present brown sesame-gingerish dressings. Next was an assortment of white fish sashimi garnished with yellow and green flowers and grated ginger which gave the jackfish a spicy bite. Then a bowl with a delicious potato dumpling covered with thick brown gravy; a well done skin held in the creamy potato and, to my surprise, a piece of tender pork. The last dish in the set looked like a tight ball of white raman noodles. She asked if I had eaten this before; I hadn`t. She didn`t know how to describe it in English and said it was something like fish insides. I plucked apart the wad and put the bite in my mouth. I nearly vomited. As I went to bite into it, the ribbon of membrane exploded in my mouth releasing a chalky, salty liquid. My eyes started to water. Luckily the whole thing was slimy enough to slide down my throat in one quick gulp. She laughed hysterically. We`d finished beers and Uchiyama had tentatively suggested hot sake. I told her to go for it cause it IS her birthday. As the waiter came around to collect the plates, he asked her how I liked the `shiraco`. I leaned into reply as he gave me an `oh, pardon me` bow and listened as I explained that the taste was okay but the texture was very, very strange. He chuckled, apologizing. I ordered another hot sake, oyster, scallop and fish tenpura and a fish and miso soup dish. The fried things were delicious. The soup wasn`t what either of us expected – a hearty bowl of miso with cabbage and pumpkin slices accompanied by a bowl of tiny, slimy [probably marinated] whole fish with beady eyes. Their taste was sweet and salty and paired well with the hot broth. Next came a pot of tender pork chunks simmering in a red wine sauce. They were fatty but succulent. The waiter explained this was a substitute dish for the one I couldn`t eat; an unusual nicety. As the night wore on he became more and more comfortable chatting with us and less put off by dealing with me. Later as I mulled over which dessert to have, he interrupted saying he`d just bring us both of them, a moderately sweet, gray sesame mousse that was to die for and homemade chocolate chip ice cream. I don`t normally do dessert, but it WAS her birthday. Conversation was just as good as the meal. Miyoko is very progressive for a Japanese woman, having studied abroad and traveled. She`s always very open with me and that night we discussed everything from her relationship with her husband to normal Japanese home life to office romances to world politics to my family to relationships in Japan to the future of my work. A semi-rowdy table near us was leaving as a middle-aged man approached and asked where I was from in English. We all chatted for a bit and he invited us to their after party at a karaoke bar. When she went to the toilet I paid our bill and I thought I was going to have to tie her hands together to keep her from protesting. The proprietor presented us with his business card, a nice compliment, as Uchiyama whispered to me `next time I come back, I am bringing you cause we got incredible service and free food`. Once outside I asked what she was up for. She suggested karaoke because her husband was away and it `IS` her birthday. Unfortunately the bar that the English speaking guy mentioned was already closed, as was another karaoke spot we tried. She said she wasn`t tired so we could head anywhere. As I was leading us to Nick`s bar, we came across a car bogged down in the snow. We pushed it from behind, unlodging it while laughing and slipping all over. The occupants were really thankful and bowed at us all the way into the bar. We had a beer there, chatting with the barkeep who I vaguely know, laughing and conspiring. As we headed home, she gave me a big hug and told me it was her best birthday ever. It`s hard to believe she is 57 and a simple night out is the most celebrating she has ever done. The next day I found a hand-painted watercolor card in my mailbox thanking me from `the bottom of her heart.`
Back at school I questioned another teacher about this mysterious `shiraco` dish. He rifled through several dictionaries before showing me the entry that defined it as milt. I headed straight to dictionary.com and discovered
milt (m lt)
n. Fish sperm, including the seminal fluid.