Weekend Confidential: May 5, 2024
Riverside hangs in Kyoto, raw chicken snacks, and more travel coming...
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I’m back in Kyoto for a few days before heading home - wherever that is.
I feel like I’m always heading home…and always leaving home. Which is nice, and confusing. I’m becoming completely untethered. It’s a strange life, but I like it. I know it’s not for everyone, but that’s why you have me; I do it so you don’t have to.
As a particularly home-centered family member once said at a holiday dinner, “I would hate living your life.” It was a great reminder that my dream is not everyone’s.
But I’m loving mine! There’s always a bit of sadness, of course; leaving Saigon had a touch of that, because that really felt like leaving home, with my whole scene of friends there. But arriving back in Kyoto, to an open door (and momentarily empty house, make yourself at home) felt very familiar.
As does lounging by the river with my bestie, drinking a nice white wine and eating a delicious, locally-made pork rillettes…
…while watching the migrating birds and locals wheeling by, and reflecting on times past and plans for the future…
And speaking of food, I finally got my yen for torisashi – chicken tartare - satisfied. My food safety scientist friend was dubious, and you probably are as well. Forbes magazine couldn’t write a piece about it without adding, in the first paragraph, “And how about some diarrhea with that? We can also toss in some nausea, vomiting and abdominal pain for no extra charge!”
Ah, our “responsible” mainstream press: Making Trump acceptable and a Japanese delicacy a threat. Where is both-sides-ism when you need it?
Sure, raw chicken can be dangerous. But Japanese butchers know this, and make accomodations. Apparently, Forbes is unaware of this. (Did their writer get diarrhea? We can only wonder.)
As for me, time will tell on those dire warnings - I promise I will report on this, but not in detail. But 24 hours later, I feel fine. The Japanese, like Europeans, are cautious but not fearful. Raw chicken is, of course, dangerous; but so (supposedly) are raw eggs, though I’ve eaten dozens without any averse effects, including in Europe and Asia AND America. BOO! Scary things sell.
I like trying new things, and torisashi – a portmanteau of the Japanese words for bird and raw fish – is a mild-flavored treat. A bit adventurous, perhaps, but way tastier than Vietnam’s and the Philippines’ far more adventurous balut (fertilized, boiled duck eggs) or any number of other local delicacies, like the mountain oysters (deep fried sheep testicles) I once had in eastern Turkey.
If I’d been squeamish about eating horse meat, eight years ago in Puglia, Italy’s southeasternmost province, I would have missed the best meat I’ve ever eaten. (Apologies, as always, to my vegan/veggie friends, and yes, I know: Travel is broadening, but meat is still murder. Guilty as charged.)
In any case, torisashi is available in Kyoto’s (hopefully) sterile butcher’s shops as well as in the izakaya I had it in years ago. In any case, as you can see, this torisashi was served seared, and with some pickled celery as an accompaniment.
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