the international language of food
July came and went for me in a blur of weddings, wine and visitors. Two weddings, one road trip to wine country and the arrival of Hide and Mariko, a married couple from Japan who have been more fun than I could have ever imagined.
A chef friend of mine asked me for suggestions as to where she could house two future employees. We discussed weekly rates at local motels, hostels and other unsavory locations which would surely frighten any sensible person. So, after learning a few measly but complimentary tidbits about them, I offered up my guest room and guest bathroom as their temporary home until they found their own apartment. How bad could two bakers be?
They're quite awesome.
I came home one evening, having handed over my spare key the day before, to find two very slim Japanese people sitting in my "office." We said our hellos and I showed them the essentials of our living space including where to put "dust" (they meant trash.) I found myself becoming a cliched American with the slow, loud, clear annunciation and animated facial expressions but, for some reason, it helped. I'm sure there were things that first night which were lost in translation but at this point, we have become such good friends that all of those mundane details are moot now.
With their limited English and my non-existent Japanese, we laugh and joke and discuss food incessantly. Hide bakes bread and brings home pain au lait, brioches with caramelized onions, palmiers and croissants. Mariko brings home hojicha white chocolate mochi truffles, hazelnut financiers and banana brown butter cake. We taste these things together and discuss the smells, the textures, the colors, the flavors. Every bite is homework and I've never wanted to ace a class more.
They bring home breads from other bakeries to study (read: eat.) I bring home breads from my travels. Most recently, I was in San Francisco and I visited Bay Bread. The sourdough loaf the two of them shared was the first they'd ever had and miraculously, it stayed soft for three days. I had a hazelnut pain au chocolat which didn't last more than 10 minutes.
We have been to various restaurants including Sona where on the last day my friend's tenure as pastry chef there, one of the staff asked me if I spoke Japanese since they saw the three of us chattering away all night. I don't know exactly how it happens but, when you meet people who are much like yourself, friendships blossom despite language barriers. From them, I have learned true dedication to a craft and constant curiosity about the world around us.
They will leave my apartment in the next two weeks and I'm sad to see them go. They told me I should give up my apartment and sleep on a mattress in their tiny one-bedroom near the restaurant. Sometimes, I think I like that idea. Or rather "Idea wa suki."
A chef friend of mine asked me for suggestions as to where she could house two future employees. We discussed weekly rates at local motels, hostels and other unsavory locations which would surely frighten any sensible person. So, after learning a few measly but complimentary tidbits about them, I offered up my guest room and guest bathroom as their temporary home until they found their own apartment. How bad could two bakers be?
They're quite awesome.
I came home one evening, having handed over my spare key the day before, to find two very slim Japanese people sitting in my "office." We said our hellos and I showed them the essentials of our living space including where to put "dust" (they meant trash.) I found myself becoming a cliched American with the slow, loud, clear annunciation and animated facial expressions but, for some reason, it helped. I'm sure there were things that first night which were lost in translation but at this point, we have become such good friends that all of those mundane details are moot now.
With their limited English and my non-existent Japanese, we laugh and joke and discuss food incessantly. Hide bakes bread and brings home pain au lait, brioches with caramelized onions, palmiers and croissants. Mariko brings home hojicha white chocolate mochi truffles, hazelnut financiers and banana brown butter cake. We taste these things together and discuss the smells, the textures, the colors, the flavors. Every bite is homework and I've never wanted to ace a class more.
They bring home breads from other bakeries to study (read: eat.) I bring home breads from my travels. Most recently, I was in San Francisco and I visited Bay Bread. The sourdough loaf the two of them shared was the first they'd ever had and miraculously, it stayed soft for three days. I had a hazelnut pain au chocolat which didn't last more than 10 minutes.
We have been to various restaurants including Sona where on the last day my friend's tenure as pastry chef there, one of the staff asked me if I spoke Japanese since they saw the three of us chattering away all night. I don't know exactly how it happens but, when you meet people who are much like yourself, friendships blossom despite language barriers. From them, I have learned true dedication to a craft and constant curiosity about the world around us.
They will leave my apartment in the next two weeks and I'm sad to see them go. They told me I should give up my apartment and sleep on a mattress in their tiny one-bedroom near the restaurant. Sometimes, I think I like that idea. Or rather "Idea wa suki."
posted by Katie at 1:50 PM
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