(As seen on mangojuiced.com)
Throughout my 4 day stay in Tokyo, I often resorted to broken English, a few “desu kas,” “arigato gosaimases” and a lot of “turo” or pointing. Sometimes, that can lead to some awesome discoveries.
A few of those discoveries were in the Ameyoko Flea Market. After spending a couple of hours walking along Kappabashi Dori (which is heaven for chefs – a 2-3 km stretch of nothing but culinary stores), I developed quite an appetite. I took a train to Ueno and began to look for the famous Japanese flea market. Before I left the train station, though, I needed an ice cream break! Baskin Robbins was smiling at me and what greeted me was this treat of a flavor: Ichigo Milk Ice Cream! Named after a Japanese cartoon, it had a wonderfully creamy milk ice cream, richer than your normal vanilla and it also had some strawberry ice cream with nice sweet strawberry chunks. Quite a flavor!
Traversing the flea market, I was more interested in the food being offered than the discount clothes, and my first stop was an izakaya, or a drinking joint. Since it was early afternoon, it was not busy. Usually izakayas serve yaki toris with sweet sauces, but the one I ate in served theirs with salt and a spicy bean paste. Left with no choice but to point, I pointed at four items, hoping to God I got at least one right. And I really was! First came a chicken meatloaf, like a long Tsukune or meatball. Very flavorful and tender, a great beginning. Then the good stuff came in. Chicken Gizzard, chewy with a slight crunch, no disturbing odors. I wish they were slightly more tender but it was good. A stick of grilled chicken skin was a win, with its slight crunch and rich fatty goodness. Lastly, a traditional chicken yaki tori with leeks. Juicy and perfectly cooked, even the leeks were tender and flavorful. Points for lucky pointing!
Moving along, I could see fresh fruit on sticks and very fragrant gyros. I passed as I went into a supermarket to get my hands on Japanese items like white miso and spices. When I mistakenly left the supermarket through a different door, a familiar smell wafted into my nostrils. Finally, some Takoyaki!!! The street side stall sold only one item (as most great Japanese restaurants do) : Takoyaki and your choice was 4, 6 or 8 pieces. Gesturing the universal sign for four (which is really just 4 fingers up), they gave me four plain octopus pancake balls. Then, to my right, a table of all the condiments. We were given the chance to season our own Takoyakis the way we wanted them, as huge containers of bonito flakes, tonkatsu sauce and Japanese mayo were there for our pleasure. The takoyakis were awesome. They were perfectly cooked. Octopus pieces were tender, and the batter was slightly formed with the center still runny. I made the mistake of putting an entire ball into my mouth as it was piping (and I mean piping) hot! Burned tongue aside, the batter was nicely flavored and was not outshone by the condiments I put in. I’ve never had a better Takoyaki. Seriously.
After the two shopping trips, I was all set to call it a night. But there was a none too small a matter of dinner. I was desperately trying to find this ramen place in Ebisu that was recommended to me Marc Matsumoto of norecipes.com but I couldn’t find it. I instead intended to go to a ramen place near my hotel. A quick decision to just check out what exactly “Tsukiji Marche” was led me to a dinner I never thought I’d have. In a small unnamed place, diners were literally seated around a chest cooler with seafood lying on top of a bed of ice. As the place was almost packed, I figured it would be a good place to eat.
None of the people spoke a lick of English, so once again, pointing, praying and reading context clues were needed. I ended up pointing at fresh oysters. A plate of three different kinds of oysters, undoubtedly from three regions of Japan was served to me, together with a salad of crab and pickled vegetables. The salad was great but the oysters were tremendous. Each oyster had a slightly different flavor level and texture but all were what oyster should be, briny, silky and they tasted of the ocean. No sauce, just a squeeze of lemon and truly that was all they needed. Asking for what I wanted to drink, I answered with one of the few Japanese words I knew, “Birru!” Asahi beer was a great match for the oysters. Watching the other people around the chiller, I pointed at one other plate and I was served a plate of fried fish cakes! That was a good way to end the day.
Oftentimes, knowledge of the natives’ speaking language would be considered an advantage, but on this day, my inability to speak Japanese, combined with my ability to point and some basic luck, led me to some awesome food finds. I can’t complain.