Page 22 of A Serving of Hope

“Much obliged.” Perching on the chair, Toshio glanced around the restaurant.

“So, tell me. How did you hear about us?” asked Koishi.

“There’s a bar I go to in Kita-Shinchi. The lady who runs it told me about this place. Said you’d be able to recreate a dish from my past.”

Koishi paused in the middle of pouring his tea. “Kita-Shinchi in Osaka? Isn’t that a pretty high-end area?”

“Sure. Osaka’s version of Gion, if you like. Very different place from Sakai, in any case,” Toshio said with a faint grin.

“What’s Sakai like, then? I’ve never been.”

“Well, let’s see…There are plenty of factories, trains running right through the city…Oh, and it’s close to the sea, so the seafood’s pretty special,” explained Toshio somewhat absentmindedly.

“I remember seeing something on TV about a tempura place that opens just before midnight and stays open until dawn. That’s in Sakai, right?”

“You’re well informed! Yes, I’ve been there a few times myself. That place stays busy all night long.”

“Tempura in the middle of the night, eh? People in Sakai must have strong stomachs.”

“That’s the funny thing. You don’t get that greasy feeling afterward. Maybe because the ingredients are so fresh.”

“Really? You’re making me want to go.”

The two went on chatting until Nagare emerged from the kitchen with a large round tray.

“Here we go,” he said, setting the entire tray down in front of Toshio. It was filled with small dishes.

Toshio leaned back, his eyes widening in disbelief. “This is all…for me?”

“I know it looks like a lot,” said Koishi, “but the portions are actually quite small. Now, can I get you something to drink?”

“I do like a tipple,” said Toshio, before giving a wry chuckle. “But it has a habit of getting me into trouble.”

“You can always stick with tea,” Koishi suggested with a smile.

Toshio grinned back at her. “Then again, with a spread like this, it’d be rude not to…”

“Sake, then?” she asked.

“Please. Something light would be good.”

“Got it.”

As Koishi retreated to the kitchen, Nagare stood at Toshio’s side. “Shall I go over the menu?”

Toshio sat up in his seat. “Please.”

“So, there are nine dishes in total. The Raku plate in the top left is grilled autumn eggplant with a red-and-white miso glaze. On the Kutani plate are some prawns wrapped in yuba—tofu skin, that is—and deep-fried. Try dipping them in the yuzu salt. In the wicker basket on the right is my battered venison, fried Tatsuta-style—that’s already seasoned, so you can eat it as it is. Below that, on the blue-and-white porcelain, is the grilled atsu-age tofu with bonito flakes. On the square white dish in the middle is the deep-fried fugu with a ponzu sauce. To the left of that, in the Oribe bowl, is kombu-cured sea bream sashimi—nice with a dab of the yuzu and chili paste and a bit of soy sauce. The glass bowl beneath that is crab meat: Add a dash of the soy sauce vinegar and wrap it with the thinly sliced cucumber. In the middle of that bottom row, on the red-patterned dish, is simmered Yoro pork—best eaten with a good dollop of mustard. And finally, on the Shigaraki plate at the end, you have the matsutake mushroom—deep-fried Western-style, with a Worcestershire sauce.”

Koishi reappeared with a red-lacquered sake flask and cup, which she set beside the tray. “This is Hakkaisan. Hope it’s to your liking!”

“Thank you. I’m no sake expert, if I’m honest,” said Toshio, reaching for the lipped flask and filling the large cup to the brim.

“It being autumn, today’s rice is steamed with saury,” added Nagare. “Just let me know when you’re ready for it.”

“And let me know if that sake’s running low,” Koishi chimed in. “Enjoy!”

The pair disappeared back into the kitchen. Alone now in the dining area, Toshio allowed his eyes to wander slowly across the neatly arranged dishes. Each was beautifully presented—and, even more importantly, looked utterly delectable. Toshio cleared his throat, then reached for his chopsticks.