There is a popular saying in Japan: “Me de taberu Nihonjin (Japanese people eat with their eyes)”. Yuko Shimizu, a Japanese language teacher in Chennai, explains that for the Japanese, the art of arranging food is as important as the taste itself. Almost to the point of obsession.
This is evident in the horde of food-related movies and television shows in the country.
Let us take Little Forest: Summer/Autumn , which began as a Japanese manga (comics that conform to a style of art developed in Japan around the late 19th Century) written and illustrated by Daisuke Igarashi, before being adapted into a two-part film released in 2014 and 2015. It follows the story of 20-year-old Ichiko, who settles in her hometown Komori, a small village in Northeastern Japan, after a personal crisis. Her cooking is attuned to the seasons. In summer, she makes her own Worcestershire sauce from freshly harvested carrot, celery, ginger and pepper. In autumn, she makes walnut rice and candied chestnuts. Winter is the time for natto , fermented soybeans eaten with mochi (rice cakes). And spring is for bakke miso , made with fukinotou (the pale green sprouts of the fuki flower that herald spring).
Ichiko makes her own Worcestershire sauce, with soy and croquettes, with casual precision. When she arranges croquettes (you can almost hear their definitive crunch) on a white ceramic plate, setting the dark brown sauce bottled nicely for use, the picture is irresistibly appetising. For a minute, you forget that Ichiko is just cooking for herself, and not a fancy restaurant.
Matter of appeal
Shimizu says, “The very act of arranging food in a certain way that appeases the eyes is ingrained in us.” For instance, there is a certain way, say, you peel radish or cut salmon. “They are done not only to bring the best out of the ingredients but also for visual appeal.”
In the book The Fine Art of Japanese Food Arrangement , authors Yoshio Tsuchiya and Masaru Yamamoto state that Japanese food arrangements are so compelling that a diner, experiencing a traditional meal for the first time, often finds that his or her impressions of the presentation overshadow the actual taste of the food. For, this cuisine involves all senses: taste, smell, sight, touch, and even hearing. The authors further add that each vessel used is chosen for colour, shape and compatibility with food.
This philosophy extends to food on television. In the TV series Ramen Daisuki Koizumi-san (which literally translates to ‘Ms Koizumi Loves Ramen Noodles’) the protagonist visits a different ramen shop in Japan everyday. She even travels an hour just to taste ramen from Ramen Jiro, a chain of restaurants with a cult-like following for its fatty, rich signature pork ramen, served with lashings of garlic and soy sauce since 1968.
It is not just the taste she enjoys. Koizumi closes her eyes and listens to water drain from noodles as if it is the most beautiful sound in the world. As soon as the dish is served, she pauses to look at it, taking in the aroma of vegetables and pork. She touches the slices with her chopsticks and smiles, knowing that the texture is just perfect — both tender and crisp. Wait, she is still not ready to eat. First, she keeps aside the pork toppings. Then she pulls the thick noodles over the vegetables. “That way, noodles dipped in thick broth will absorb vegetables too,” a customer explains. Finally, she slurps the remaining broth with a content smile. For Koizumi, ramen is a dish to be savoured with all her senses.
The ramen culture in Japan has inspired a number of movies that have gone on to become cult classics. The 1985 ‘ramen western’ movie Tampopo by director Juzo Itami (Japan’s answer to the stereotypical ‘Spaghetti Western’ genre) is a classic example. It follows the journey of widow Tampopo who becomes a ramen master with the help of truck driver Goro. Here, too, there is an emphasis on getting all components of ramen — broth, toppings and noodles — perfect. As Goro says after tasting Tampopo’s noodle: “I can taste sincerity but it lacks substance.” Good is not enough. It has to be perfect.
Arrangement is an art
The Essence of Japanese Cuisine: An Essay on Food and Culture explores the concept of space called ma and moritsuke, rules for arranging of food. It states that the plate is never fully covered or filled with food it carries. The Japanese also use a variety of tableware for texture, glaze and shape, in a bid to create visual appeal. Shiruwan, for instance, is a lacquer bowl with beautiful design and grip, used for soup. Kobachi bowls are small and made of clay, and used for condiments, while Yakimono-zara is a ceramic plate, usually rectangular in shape, for grilled food. Some crockery is hand-glazed, while others have the raku glaze. The glaze firing times for rakuware are short — an hour or two — as opposed to up to 16 hours for high-temperature cone 10 stoneware firings.
In the television show Kodoku no Gourmet (Solitary Gourmet), which follows Goro Inogashira as he samples local cuisine, Inogashira appreciates the way food is arranged, as much as its taste. He keeps asking, “What is my stomach craving for now?” as he goes in search of restaurants. In an episode where he craves Chinese food, he visits Chinatown in Yokohama region and orders Dan Dan noodles, bansansu and yaki gyoza. When served, he first admires the perfect round shape of yaki gyoza. “It hurts me that I have to break the perfectness,” he says, before breaking it. “Should I have ordered rice?” he asks himself as he savours it.
