Ryokan Ruminations

This is Cathy. Tonight is Monday. I'm so tired, just coming up with that info was a struggle. Bob and I spent last night at a ryokan, a hotsy-totsy, classy Japanese-style inn. We were welcomed, and of course given different shoes for the stay. The man at the desk confirmed our reservation for a kaiseki dinner that night and breakfast in the morning, and then the hostess took us to our room and seated us at the table in the middle. She was down on her knees to speak with us immediately, but we, having a different kind of knees, lowered ourselves with some care and as much grace as we could muster.

She then said that since we would not be having dinner, she would like to schedule our bath and breakfast. Bob, ever the diplomat, said that since we wouldn't be having breakfast, we would be especially hungry and would like the earliest breakfast. She put us down for 7:30. Ah but when would we like our bath? Well, that would depend on when we'd eaten. The conversation took one of those Japanese merry-go-rounds, with nobody saying that there was a problem, that we really had already paid for dinner and we'd been expecting it, but of course that was difficult because we weren't going to have dinner.

Fast forward--we called the desk and got it straight, and everybody was very nice about the whole thing. So there we were, seated across the table from each other, each of us in our yukatas, folded properly left-over-right, because otherwise we would have been considered dead people, and of course we wouldn't need dinner in that case. I'm sorry I can't remember each of the courses. There were about 13 dishes, 2-3 of them served at once. There was soup at the end of the meal, miso. There were assorted pickles. There were 3 pieces of Kobe beef that we cooked in little ceramic grills, along with some sweet onions and something that had a muscular texture and made me suspicious it was octopus. I ate mine, but I wouldn't choose to do that again. Bob ate half of his, and then dropped the other half on the floor, a wise move on his part. But he DID eat the entire dish that was gloppy and stringy, like raw egg white. We were never sure exactly what that was, but I was SO impressed with my spouse, because I knew he was appalled at the textures going down his throat. There was sashimi (raw fish), and grilled fish and fried fish. There was one little delightfully braided piece of fish that was braided in a raw state and then cooked. There were vegetables I've never ever met before, and others that were close relatives to some I have met.

I have to say that I cannot remember how long it's been since Bob and I have spent 90 minutes eating together, just the two of us. Well, we're old, and memories fail. Dessert came, after the rice, and that was poached apples with some whipped cream garnish that was supposed to look like a couple of cherries, deep fried pasta for the stems. Not really Asian, but like everything else, presented with care and a sense of balance and eye appeal. Really, it was art.

Well, I'm afraid this computer is going to run out of time. Breakfast--and we DID ask for the Western breakfast--was cornflakes and a fried egg and ham and an orange slice. We are too timid to eat fish for breakfast. Call us faint of heart. We can take it. Oh, I forgot to tell you about the bath!! Well, you sit on a little wooden stool to clean yourself, and then rinse, and ease into an enormous hot tub. I have to tell you Bob was great at that, but he could sit. If I'd've sat in that thing, I'd drown, and you'd not get this letter. And I'd've not needed that dinner, come to think. Perhaps they DID know more than we did! Will we do this again? Nope, but it was groovy fun, and a hoot. Goodnight to you all. I REALLY have to get some sleep now!!