Let's talk turkey

With Halloween now nearly a month behind us, it’s time for those of you back in the US to shift gears and engage in another one of those mystical American traditions: the Thanksgiving Day feast. I have to admit, while it’s always seemed rather odd to me why we have two harvest festivals in short succession – one to decorate pumpkins and the other to eat them, I suppose – I have never been one to shy away from generous portions of food (as those who know me can attest). It is therefore with some disappointment that I have discovered no direct equivalent for our American habit of stuffing turkeys with which to stuff ourselves, accompanied by copious amounts of sleeping and watching of televised sports events.

It has, however, been something of a pleasure instructing my first-year students these past couple of weeks on the many and varied foodstuffs we shovel by the mouthful on this day, among them the aforementioned turkey and stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy, salad, string bean casserole, a variety of vegetables, and a plethora of pies (but chiefly apple, pumpkin, and sweet potato). They are interested in my own pictures of the event, as well as the impossibly large feast that Japanese people rarely indulge in at home. But they are mostly curious about the food itself.

It may not strike people in the US as unusual to eat things like turkey even year-round, but the bird is native to the Americas (the name comes from its general air of the exotic when first introduced to Europe, not an Ottoman pedigree). Other items, such as pumpkin, are also technically from the Americas, but the general unavailability of turkey here gives it an air of mystery to the students, perhaps not unlike that which greeted it when it first arrived in the Old World centuries ago. OK, so maybe I’ve exaggerated the size a tiny bit – they are big birds, after all – but I think they’d still be fascinated otherwise.

Of course, all this talk of Thanksgiving has left me with pangs of longing for a home-cooked meal, and to be around family and friends back in the North Country. Last year, my experience was still too new for me to be all that concerned, but for this time, I’ve requested (and my parents have obliged) a shipment of stove-top stuffing and cranberry gelatin dessert, just to give something of the proper feeling. Obviously a turkey is out of the question, but maybe I can find a smallish chicken to substitute (and to fit inside my microwave that doubles as an oven). We’ll see.

Of course, Japan is not totally bereft of feasting; the main concern is simply one of space and adequate kitchen apparatus. With the typical apartment not being very conducive to large gatherings, and the typical kitchen lacking anything like the requisite number of burners or oven space for proper cooking, these events are usually held at restaurants, where the food is plentiful and the elbow-room more generous.

These feasts come chiefly in two varieties. The first is enkai, which most readily translates to “banquet”. At a restaurant or inn, large groups of people are presented with a multi-course meal of a pre-planned menu, interspersed with important announcements, games (sometimes with prizes), and a slightly more formalized atmosphere. These are generally held to commemorate specific events (welcoming or going-away parties, celebrations, or other similar milestones), and are either paid-for by the group in advance, or through a predetermined contribution from each participant. The second kind is the uchiage, or “party”, usually held after participating in some kind of event and through the voluntary attendance of its members. The menu is not set, but items are ordered by individuals for the entire table, providing a sampling of finger-foods that accumulate until you start wondering who ordered that last round of fried squid rings, or where the beer in front of you came from after you’d already decided you really ought to walk home under your own power that evening. It’s a lot of fun (and with the chorus, there’s some spontaneous singing mixed in there too), though when the bill comes, it always seems impossible that any one person could have eaten as much as they’re claiming you ought to pay for. Maybe the fun is calculated into the total, as well.

There is actually one meal for large groups that’s usually eaten at home, and that’s nabe, or hot-pot cooking. It’s something that can be had year-round at most restaurants, but it’s especially common in winter, and that goes double for the end-of-year party, or bonenkai. Basically, you boil vegetables along with some kind of meat (in Osaka, often a non-poisonous variety of pufferfish) in a special pot at the center of the table, throw in more ingredients when it starts to get thin, and repeat until no one can eat anymore. There’s also a point where you throw in rice to make ochazuke and use up the rest of the broth, but last year I didn’t make it that far. We’ll see how I do next month. Until then, I’ll just have to make do, and quietly give thanks for the many things I can do here.