Saturday May 2 Day 4
Day 4: Part 2
Since Wikipedia has done such a fine job in their definition of Kaiseki (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaiseki), making the multi course meal sound like some exquisite experience of the palate. I am going to stick with the facts, strictly the facts as experienced by my palate.
I kind of wish I had done some research ahead of time, though I am not sure if it would have made me more appreciative of the whole ordeal or if I would have just aborted mission. The only thing I understood about it all before we left was that we should be well dressed, on time, and ready to pay a premium for the experience.
Well dressed and on time, the three of us filed out of the taxi and into the restaurant. It seemed like a small forever to get through the dark cobbled hallway to what I know now as the official shoe confiscation zone. This had happened before on the trip so we were accustomed to the routine. Maybe we would have been more reluctant to give up the foot wear had there been an indication that we would be killing sea creatures with our teeth. It was apparent after the meal that if the shoes were not confiscated from the Westerners they would surely escape before bill time, which by the way is equally a part of the experience.
Led up the stairs by a tiny little thing, who looks no older than 16. She is dressed immaculately in a traditional kimono, with hair and accessories to match. To my surprise, we are brought into a large private room and seated at a table with chairs. This should have been our first clue that we were not in Tokyo anymore, and Tokyo dining was pretty intense. We weren’t seated on the floor but they still took our shoes? Our server closed the sliding paper screen, exiting with our drink orders. We watched the shadow of her figure pass down the hall. Forget nervous – I’m scared.
Chitchatting until our drinks arrive, it would have been nice to shoot back some Saki in this moment but I opt for Coke instead. To the best of my recollection it was an 8-course meal, served over 2 hours. Time becomes a really important factor in this whole thing so take note. It is 7:35 pm as two shadowed figures kneel at our door and it opens. They enter with trays and again some more kneeling. With bows and nods we are served our first course. Waiting for them to kneel their way out, we have a rather serious discussion about what we’ve just been offered.
I can’t say I am a huge fan of seafood, but I do like the flavor of adrenaline. I dig in first, but it is hard to decide which piece of white, slimy, “seafood” I should engage. They are all obviously of a different origin and I am not at all sure what origin that is. Chopsticks to mouth I pop the nastiest of the four into my mouth and chew. Still unsure of what I’m tasting, I take a couple more chews and swallow it down with a swig of Coke. Not as bad as I thought it was going to be, I place my chopsticks down and look across the table at Roomie. It was unspoken, but the three of us were in this together, and she knew it was her turn next. Though it appeared slimy like mine, her face said something different. Before I could ask, she mumbles “Jube jube”. Bestie and I shoot each other a look of disgust, which Roomie follows with “it’s like chewing Jube Jubes”. Ew!
It’s Bestie’s turn now, and she’s visibly shaking. She has a 50/50 choice between the last 2 un-ventured “fish”. As soon as it hits her mouth, she gags and recovers just in time to not offend the servers. We see their kneeling shadows‘ at the door and I can’t help but think “F?@% what now?”. The time is 7:50 and we bow our heads in shame as they clear our un-finished plates and replace them with course 2.
Looking at course 2 I feel a little guilty for my judgment of the first dish, this is something I recognize as sashimi and I think it’s actually tuna. I eat both pieces without issue, they are delicious and void of that fishy flavor I find so offensive. Bestie is not so convinced and I’m pretty sure she skipped this round.
Instilled with a bit more confidence and a lot more hope, I smile at my server as she places down course 3.
It was easy to maintain the smile until we were once again alone in our room, because course 3 was served confined, and I am about to learn why. Shall we see what’s behind door number 1? (My apologies for the lame colour correct).
Let’s look at this objectively, sure they still have eyes and legs, but I can assuredly say that this is shrimp on my plate. Mildly disturbed that it is served on a bed of ice chips, I resolve that this has to be a sign of freshness and assess the produce I’ve been dished. Not at all sure what the other three items are, one of the other two makes the connection with what we are eating and Disney. It’s a hard connection to deny.
I pretend that “top” shrimp is Sebastian from The Little Mermaid and turn him into a dancing, singing finger puppet for a laugh, which is not so funny when I realize that my Sebastian may not be dead yet. I place him back on ice for later and elect to sample each of the other 3 items first. Wrong move, I’m not swallowing any of it, so head back over to Sebastian to finish the job. I disrobe him of his shell, and take a confident bite. Now things start to happen in slow motion. I look to Bestie who looks as though she has just watched me get shot in the face. I’m feeling like similar. Back in the moment, here’s how it went. That shrimp projectile vomited a stream of brown cloudy liquid into my mouth. I felt like I needed a team of paramedics to help me through the rest of the meal.
It is 8:20 pm and I’m starting to think that there is a camera set up and someone is getting a good laugh at our expense, because this can’t be real. I feel that familiar lump in my throat; I think I’m actually going to cry any minute now. The servers clear our plates, and I feel my shoulders relax a little knowing that it has been taken away.
Course 4 arrives, another covered dish. We only notice once the servers have left the room because each of us has our head hung low and eyes to the group every time they enter.
No shot of the insides of this dish folks, which is unfortunate since under the lid floated a very dead SpongeBob and a few of his equally dead friends. I didn’t want to try any of it, I tasted the broth and re-covered the bowl, as did the others, this was one that none of us could do.
Now at the midway point, an hour in and an hour to go, our server asks if any of us have allergies. My inside voice whimpers, “why?” as my head nods yes, but I smile and reply “No”. What? I’m wishing for an EpiPen® and someone to hold my hand. I’m not allergic to anything food based but fear that this will be the one thing that I am not supposed to eat. When the servers arrive with course 5, we ask in unison, “What is it?”
I present to you course 5.
Yikes it’s on ice; I’m in a panic remembering my recent encounter with the bed of ice chips thing. We’ve been told that it’s sea urchin, something on my bucket list of things to try. As appetizing as it presents, I eat the center piece that looks like solid material. It kind of has the flavour of oyster, but I feel like the consistency is different. I skip the brown liquid it’s bathed in and feel we’re now in the home stretch. It’s 9:15 pm and one of the courses has got to be dessert.
Giggling about the cast of characters we have now been served, Roomie wonders out loud if what’s coming next is A Shark Tale. Be careful what you wish for, or talk about, or say out loud. I can’t make this stuff up.
When the lid of course 6 is lifted, a broth with the consistency of gravy, bubbles like lava, jostling around what looks again to be SpongBob and the fin of what I assume to be some sort of shark. We learn later that the fins belonged to a Manta Ray, but I’m saying pass on most things coming through at this point, so matter is does not. Roomie declares, “This shit just got real”, we nod in agreement and place the lid back on in sync.
The dark shadows in the hallway seem twice as big as when this all began, their frames blocking almost all the light coming through our screen. A drop of sweat trickles down the back of my neck, I’m not just scared – I’m terrified. This is course 7 and it is a little after 9 pm.
I’m delighted it’s cooked. I question if they decided to put a nice sear on the last dish in hopes that we would eat it. I spend a moment feeling guilty then put the morsel of fish in my mouth. It was good. I’m not sure if that is in comparison to this meal, or in general, but I was able to chew and swallow and still compliment the taste and consistency. Another bit of relief waves over me. We are moments away from the finish line.
Indeed, the next course – course 8, is dessert. Or is it? Bestie points out that it may be a palate cleanser and my anxiety jacks up to an all time high imagining what course would be coming next that required a palate cleanse at this point? I barely enjoy the mango coconut sorbet as much as I should, for fear of the grand finale that might be coming next.
But it’s over, for real. The next tray the server presents is the bill. At $200 a head, it is obvious we have paid for an experience, not a meal. We take a moment for a survivor pose, which is lacking in focus, but I want my shoes and a taxi so it is a necessary sacrifice.
Our room is cozy, my bed under the window with a great view of Kyoto Tower and the moon. I would have liked to enjoy this for longer but I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow. Another 4-hour night of rest, it’s the little things that matter while travelling. The alarm is set predictably for 5 am.
Talk Nerdy To Me: 