Haze rod lacquered again

Compare this photo with that of 22nd November:

The rod is really picking up a rich, deep colour from the red-brown lacquer; this is its second layer and with another sanding down, another layer of lacquer and a finishing polish, the rod will be ready.  This is a haze goby rod so the line passes through the centre of the bamboo, so no guides or reel seat is required.

Perfect Pooris

Well, one perfect and its fellow, not so.  I had guests on Friday and some oil left-over, so I made pooris to go with my dal makhani for supper and amazingly, some of them even survived, so I have a treat to take with my tiffin to work tomorrow.  The one on the right was first in the oil, and the temperature wasn’t quite high enough and the poori didn’t inflate properly.  When done correctly they puff up like a fugu in the oil, and when draining – here on kitchen paper and the Japan Times – they emit the most lethal hot steam out of their sides.  Amazingly the poori are crispy on the outside yet surprisingly soft, layered and moist on the inside and hardly as oily as you might imagine it would be; a marvel of Indian and Pakistani cooking.

Back from Hamarikyu

One of my favourite places in Tokyo is Hamarikyu gardens.  It is an odd oasis of calm right in the middle of the city, and if you look past the wonderfully manicured trees and gardens you are surrounded by the hideous skyscrapers of central Tokyo.  For me, the highlight was walking along the bridge over the lake and looking downwards…the lake floor is absolutely teeming with haze gobies.

All year round there is something to see here; the wisteria, cherry blossoms, plum trees, pine and maple all make their presence known at various times, and a national peony competition sees the best flowers planted for display in the northern part of the garden.  The lake is fed directly from the sea (the water level being controlled by a series of water sluice gates)  and holds, in addition to haze, two or three other species of goby, striped mullet, a native fish called maruta whose English name I do not know, juvenile sea bass and even crabs.  The gardens were the Shogun’s playground; this is a duck hunting hide:

In the middle of the lake there is a tea-house that serves maccha tea with a Japanese sweet; Westerners should be warned that you will be required to sit on a tatami floor, unless the weather is good and you can sit at the tables outside.  It costs 300 yen to get into Hamarikyu.  The Sumida River “bus” ferry leaves here for Asakusa and Odaiba, and the gardens are conveniently located right next to Tsukiji fish market.

ハゼのからすみ

珍味の中の珍味製造開始。

去年成長のいいハゼが数釣れず作れなかったけど今年はこれからなんとかなりそう。一番贅沢は真子の刺身だといわれるけど、あたる可能性もあるしお酒飲みの私にはからすみ風にする方が美味しい。これからどんどん釣ったハゼの真子を塩漬けにしてそのままびんの中に入れて行きます。

New Rodmaking, New Respect

for professional rodmakers, and for the unholy ingredient, Japanese urushi lacquer.  My teacher long warned me about the allergenic effects of urushi, and advised that we worked with the synthetic version, but I insisted on the real stuff.  After a number of sessions, it appeared I was not affected by urushi; however, last week I had my first reaction to it. 

Good time

on board my annual chartered haze-tenpura fishing boat.  We were very lucky with the weather – it was basically a full gale the previous day – clearing and it was beautiful and sunny all day.  The fish put up a good show, too!

楽しかった

和竿によるハゼ釣りはあきない。

Today’s tiffin

Dal makhani and matar paneer, to bring back memories of dinnertime on the banks of the Ganges in Uttrakhand.  To think I was only there but two months ago!  Sat at my desk at work in front of the computer, I couldn’t resist putting my spoon down and eating a little with my hands; surreptitiously, as my Japanese colleagues would be shocked at the sight of something so barbaric.  Whenever the subject of eating with one’s hands comes up, I always echo the words of Mughal Emperor Shahjehan (or it may have been the old soak Jehangir): “Eating with cutlery is like wooing a woman through an interpreter.”  Whilst it always seems so hedonistic – mostly making me recall Frankie Howerd’s Up Pompeii – the food really does taste different when eaten with one’s fingers.  On the campsite in India, we would obligingly hold out the jug of water for each other to wash our hands before and after each meal, a most civilised yet intimate ritual.  Whilst you probably won’t get that in your local Indian restaurant, an after-dinner fingerbowl with a slice of lime in it – to refresh one’s lips – always brings back memories of eating tandoori chicken by the campfire to a background of nightjars and the rushing waters of the Ganges, and my daily mealtime attempts at learning Hindi, butchering the language to the indulgent smiles of my dining companion.  Here in Japan, sushi is one of the few Japanese foods that traditionally should be eaten with one’s hands, and it always seems so much tastier to me that way, and it seems a shame when the beautifully crafted sushi falls apart in the soy sauce dish after being clumsily handled with chopsticks. 

Traditional Mabuna Fishing in Chiba

It was a wonderful Autumn’s day out, with a background of golden rice ready to be harvested and the air thick with dragonflies of all colours.  After no success at the first spot, we tried another, an impossibly small drainage ditch, but I snagged a mabuna with my first cast.

Back from Chiba