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18 FEB 99
More from the Big Udon
…and still another day closer to the collapse of civilization as we know it … or, has it already happened? Y2K to you too.
Yeah.
It was a day without meetings – but it was a day discussing the days that had meetings and the meetings themselves. And all this interspersed with the destruction and creation of emails. It is the essence of existence; the nectar of communicative interrelatedness; the fetid stench of the remnants of thrice chewed cud.
I love productivity. For that matter, I love many things that are elusive.
A case in point, I’m on my way to stalk down dinner in the Shinsaibashi area. On the Yotsubashi train down, a businessman-looking gent is across from me. Printed on his shopping bag was his company’s name and credo, something like:
TAGANAKA CHEMICALS High Technology and Sincerity
Now… I love this ‘cause I can’t get it. It’s an elusive concept. For example, if the HPUs are running dry, would you want to refill them with the best fluids that technology can provide, or fill them with sincerity? Maybe they can be filled with chemicals that look like :- ) or J or [. Or maybe I’m just full of it. Sincerity, that is.
Yeah.
Dinner is good. I’ve taken my presumptions with me, and I am entertained by a string of little surprises. I have chosen amusement over rage as the appropriate response. Perhaps being by myself has something to do with it.
Verdicchio is a 6th floor penthouse Italian Restaurant. I know that I can find some meatless dishes there, partly because there are two black cats lounging on a ledge by the elevator. It’s not because they’re black – rather it’s because they’re alive. But the blackness and thickness of their coats is like duvateen – only the eyes reflect any light. The rest recedes into the night. Out of reach, they stare back at me, the big gray bear, out of place in these tight little streets.
I ride the elevator up, am warmly greeted (no surprise there), and am seated at a table for two in the alcove adjoining the main dining area. I feel somewhat safe: The menu is bilingual – Japanese and Italian. I get a little rectangular basket with utensils (no chopsticks) paper napkin and a package towelette. Then comes two pencil-round breadsticks in a julep glass. They’re half again as long as pencils. The table already is set with a bread plate, a small bottle of Bertoli’s extra virgin olive oil, Mcillheney’s Tabasco, rice vinegar, and a shaker of MSG. I pour a bit of dipping oil for the bread sticks while I dip into the depths of the menu.
I start with a ’90 Trebbiano di Romagna – nicely chilled, as dry as a Pinot Grigio, but a bit fuller in flavor. As an appetizer, I order Griglia di Pomodore et Zucchini. Grilled veggies? Surprise – a one-inch (25mm) length of zucchini, quartered, and two cherry tomatoes, halved, have been given the tempura treatment. Good, though. On the dish is a thimble size pie plate of MSG to dip the griglia.
I had noticed a side of olives on the menu. On the lettuce leaf they come, in an oval ceramic dish the size used for entrees on planes. Three (3), count ‘em, green olives and ten blacks. They come with a bit of olive oil on them. They are the seedless variety of olives – you know, the kind that come in a can. Tasty though.
My entrée arrives: Risotto di Funghi. Again, very tasty, but surprisingly surprising. It appears to be made with butter rather than cream, with Shitake rather than Porcini, and finished with toasted sesame oil rather than olive oil.
Throughout the evening, I am facing the rear wall of the restaurant, about ten meters in front of me. Hanging jauntily on it is a flag – green, white and red vertical bands. It seems it needs that little round emblem in the center, then it would match the mariachis that have been serenading from the speakers.
As I leave, I pick up a brochure – and am flattered. There in the cover photo, right in the very foreground, is the very chair I had occupied, and the very view I had enjoyed during this journey of the senses to Romagna.
Ah well, the bus to the train is about to depart, as am I.
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