Hundred Acre Woods

Steve and I stayed at our first ryokan in Matsumoto. It is a Japanese traditional inn loosely similar to a bed and breakfast. It is traditional to be served dinner in your room by a kimono clad woman who is assigned to you for the duration of your stay. As you enter your room you are required to remove your shoes. The floors are made of tatami, a woven reed or grass. It smells to me like strong tea. Only socks or bare feet are allowed on the tatami. Special slippers are given to you to wear within the ryokan outside your room. You are also given a yukata, a thin cotton robe, that is worn all around–even to dinner–if you are going to a main dining room.
After we arrived Steve and I immediately went to the hot baths. I will explain that later–no pictures though!
At 7:30, after relaxing and reading, our hostess came in to serve us dinner. First course appeared–it looked like–I say that because we weren’t really sure what anything was and even if we asked the language barrier was too great to overcome for some things–a salad, some sushimi, and some sort of avocado and raw meat in a clear gelatinous gook. I picked my way through that trying a little of everything- the salad thing was good, the sashima was great–even the raw squid–I figured that one out by the suckers!

The jelly thing was a lot like guacamole but it included the head trip of knowing what it looked like. Next came an entire fish… I was a bit freaked, but as you see, I ate it–except for the head and parts that looked like stomach, liver and other nasty things. It was pretty good.

Then IT came. It looked innocent enough, a small covered bowl that we were cautioned was hotto (hot). I busied my self with the other things in front of me for awhile and then I opened IT. Honest to God the thing was MOVING! Steve glanced over at my look of absolute horror and asked what was wrong. IT”S MOVING!!! IT”S MOVING!!
Naturally he didn’t believe me. He opened his dish and quickly sat back. He conformed it was, indeed moving. It looked like it was pulsating and breathing in a rhythmic way. We both stared in horror and it continued to flap or pulse or do whatever it was doing. Were we supposed to wait until it was dead? It sort of looked like a giant panting beetle with all it’s legs taken off. It was mottle brown and MOVING, for the love of GOD–not scurrying around the bowl, just breathing through it’s gills or something. It was imbedded with what Steve assured me was brown or dark rice. I was seriously thinking it looked like brown maggots with sesame seeds.
Our hostess returned with more food– we asked her what IT was. “Hamate” Ha wha? Hamate–she said it over and over again willing us to understand. We grabbed our language books and poured over the section of “Things you eat while they are still breathing”–ok, there isn’t a section on that, but nor did we find anything resembling the word hamate. I tried to ask her if it was alive…our language books don’t give that phrase. Both Steve and I pantomimed something breathing and pointed at IT. She looked in the bowl and said yes, it breathes–or she pantomimed with us and laughed. I think the absolutely horror stricken look on my face finally clarified what we were asking. She started to laugh and said, “Hotto….hotto” “Not alive?” “No no hot hot.”
That was when WE suddenly had an epiphany…oh, you it just looks like that and “breathes” because it is hot! Turns out it was a large mountain grown bean type vegetable. After all of us laughing–I bet that story of the Americans who thought their bean was alive is going to make some good maid stories–I actually ate it. Well, first I had a shot of sake-rice wine– and then I was fortified enough to eat it. It was sweet almost like yam, but the insides were white.
One good thing, after all the confusion and laughter, the hamate was no longer hot!