ゆで団子

Between painted bamboo murals, we met for Japanese. We started with soup, perfect for the first snow of the year. Cupped hands, we sipped in unison taking longer slurps when just seaweed was left. Rice paper lanterns lit up our little cubicle inside the restaurant. Over the main course we spoke about travel. He said, if you really pay attention, Europe changes you. I said, I'm a bit rusty with chopsticks.

Halfway through sukiyaki and gyoza, a small Asian man shuffled down the aisle with his cane and peeked his head around the screen. We spoke briefly of architecture, of Tadao Ando. I told him I liked the rice paper lanterns and he told me the bamboo screens were original to the 40 year old restaurant he and his family come every Tuesday for lunch. He left us to finish our meal in the bamboo grove.

Compliments of the gentleman who just left, the waiter said when he brought the check. He wanted you to try his favorite sushi. Sushi for dessert, courtesy of the architect who eats in a building of his own design each Tuesday around noon. We scraped bright green wasabi off the bamboo platter as light diffused from the lanterns down onto the table. We could hear the chef in the kitchen chopping cabbage.