I’ve just returned from a quick trip to Tokyo, where The Hub was promoting a new film and where we were both doing our best to eat from morning to night.
Eating in Japan is serious business, and sushi is no less than an art form. The Michelin Guide expanded to Japan for the first time in its history in 2008, and in its debut year, it awarded more stars to the Land of the Rising Sun than any other country, including its native France. In fact, there are now more than twice the number of cumulative stars found in Tokyo (227) than in Paris (97)! (Not that any of the Japanese chefs really cared. One 3-star designee apparently asked, “Why does a French restaurant guide care about what we’re doing in Japan?”).
Over our four days and nights, we ate like kings. We sampled hot oden noodles, hot ramen noodles, cold soba noodles, mounds of tempura, shark fin soup (supposedly very good for your complexion), skewers of yakatori (basically chicken on a stick, though our selection included chicken skin on a stick, which was inedible), and all sorts of other delicacies that I’ve now lost in a haze of sake and jet lag. Speaking of sake, we knocked it back – always cold and dry and delicate. We were also given a shot of something that looked like a weak Bloody Mary but turned out to be 40 proof vodka laced with turtle blood. My arm hairs were on end for about 10 minutes.
I am not what you would call a creature of habit, but every Sunday morning in Rio, I open my eyes and think Pastels! I throw on my board shorts, slip into my flip-flops and head straight to the local street market. I merge into the flow of Cariocas making their way to the feira. I can see the flower stalls a block away towering tropical blooms of heliconia, birds of paradise, and jungle roses. My flower vendor is Andres, and we have worked out a deal whereby for fifty reals a week, I can take pretty much whatever I can carry. At this price, I keep my apt flowered to within an inch of its life. Some days it looks like a bridal suite in Waikiki. I spend half an hour considering the possible combination of blooms, blowing on blossoms, and for good measure I hand pick a bagful of golden rose petals for scattering. Then set them aside and set out for Food!
To understand the food in Richmond you must have a quick lesson on demographics and history. Don’t worry, it’s quick. Richmond began to see many immigrants from Hong Kong and throughout Asia after World War II, with a great number flowing in during the 1990s. Currently, Richmond is 65% Asian, 49% of those are Chinese. You’ll find other Asian cultures as well, particularly Southeast Asian as well as a mix of other cultures from all over the world. But this predominately Chinese makeup means restaurants, stores, shops and markets all cater to an Asian population, and visiting and eating is pure heaven for a guy like me.
Cruising Hong Kong’s street markets is a savvy shopper’s dream come
true. Fashion hounds can score bagsful of famous label clothing
copies, counterfeit leather accessories, faux pearl necklaces, and fake
jade gewgaws. Gadget buyers gravitate to stalls overflowing with
cameras, watches, and electronic gizmos. On a recent ramble through a
bustling night bazaar, none of the above were on my list. I was
seeking a somewhat more authentic trinket. Snakes.