FLASHBACK! JAPAN 1983 – A TALE OF GLUTTONY

I must now take a break from my ramblings around Scotland and return to our earlier years in Japan. Deysi has reminded me of an insignificant event that has stuck in her mind. It will not be “cleared” until I spill it out, onto paper. It is a tale of gluttony, and, Japan in 1983. Perhaps it also shows my outrageous behaviour, and Deysi’s methods of “breaking” me. It has to do with eating chicken, “gaijin” style in Japan. Once again, this memory is rather minor and means little in the grand picture of my life. However, it does show the compulsive side of me, and my unbridled nature. My memory of this incident, goes something like this.

Our apartment in Omuta, Japan, was tiny. Everything in it was small and very efficient. One of the things I missed the most, was that we had no table to eat our meals at. Oh yes, there was the table on the tatami mat, 8 inches from the floor. You had to sit in a crossed leg position, if you wanted to eat on it. Somehow, my body never got used to contorting like a pretzel and then trying to eat. Deysi and Ron seemed to be quite flexible. They could easily twist their limbs, and sit on the floor for hours. I preferred the miniature size couch, in our living room, to eat on. I could eat there and watch TV, in English, piped in from Tokyo.

One evening, I sat there, while Deysi prepared our dinner. This particular evening she came up with, the most delicious Peruvian fried chicken recipe. I am not sure exactly what she did, but this meal truly “rang all my bells”. That is except one. The aroma was exotic, the presentation “5 star”, but the portion was Japanese size. It was small! Geezus, she presented me with one exquisite looking chicken breast. I popped it in my mouth, gave it a couple of chews and it was gone. My stomach cried out for more! Looking around, I see that both Ron and Deysi are guarding, their shared piece, closely.

About one week later, and after some begging, Deysi repeats this recipe. This time she doubles my portion. I gobble it as usual. All the while glancing around to ensure that Deysi is not going to cut her share, from it. I must say, it did somewhat satisfy my cravings, for a few minutes. However, I’m still thinking, I coulda easily consumed a couple more pieces. A few days later, after some more begging and further request for larger portions. Deysi rewards me with three pieces. It was heavenly. Now, “that’s what I’m talking about”! I must say I could have eaten a little more. However, she was close to satisfying my hunger.

Deysi was patient and treated my whims, much in the manner she treated her cats, in later years. She would look at me with a mixture of pity, sympathy and tolerance. As I age, it is a look, that I see more often. I am not quite sure whether I am happy with it, or feel patronage from it. In any event I keep pestering her to make my favourite Peruvian chicken again. I’m like, “please, please, please” and “can you make more”? I’m like the kid in David Copperfield, begging the master for some more. I don’t think she could believe her ears. Herself and Ron are still sharing one piece, while my portion is now 3 whole breasts.

The next week comes and I believe Deysi has decided to give me a lesson on portion control. She goes to her local butcher and is looking at the selection. When the butcher, acknowledges her turn, she points at the two chicken breasts on display. He asks whether she wants “ichi or ni” (one or two)? Deysi replies “nana” and holds up 7 fingers. She has now disrupted the “karma” of Japan. Seven chicken breasts, is as many as the butcher would sell in a busy week. Over there, one breast, chopped up, would feed a family. Now he is confronted by a crazy “gaijin” lady asking for a week’s supply.

Well, I wasn’t there, but I would say that a lot of “sucking of teeth” went on, after her request. Apparently, the butcher signalled 7 in as many ways as he could, to make sure he understood. Deysi could not be deterred. Once, on a mission she firmly planted herself in his face and was not leaving. Not before buying his whole flock. I expect, that soon he, also, realized she was not leaving, so disappeared out the back of the shop. I also expect there were feathers flying and chickens screeching as he chopped off 7 more breasts. In any event, he returned with 7 fresh breasts, wrapped them and watched the crazy gaijin lady, leave. He had set a chicken breast sales record for Omuta, Japan.

Deysi, now happy with her evil little plan, cooks up the whole flock of chicken breast. She preserves one, to share with Ron. After she makes sure that I am comfortably seated, she brings my serving of 6 breasts. She has this happy little smile on her face and says, “there I hope that is finally enough”. Her little partner is “giggling and sniggering” as if part of some grand scheme. I look at my meal in amazement. “Finally after years, this woman has listened to me”! “Yes, yes, yes!” I’m “high fiving” her and “knuckling” Ron. I have arrived! My chicken dreams have come true.

I settle in for the eating, and as daintily as possible, crunch down three of them, in quick succession. Wow, what a meal, I’m in heaven. Both of the girls are observing me with a mixture of curiosity and hope on their faces. The fourth chicken comes and goes, and I’m now feeling quite full. Time to give up? The hell you say! I asked for them and I’ll eat them all. For the fifth breast, I had to lean sideways on my couch, to help with digestion. I might say it took me a while to eat it. Ron is bobbing around, saying “are you full yet, give up now, heheheheee”! Deysi is looking satisfied with her plan and is now ready to let me off the hook. She says, “you don’t have to finish if you are full”.

At this point, I could have given up and fell on my sword, however I now dig in. For the balance of the fifth and sixth chicken pieces, I had to lie stretched out on the couch. Our couch was also Japanese, apartment size. Laying sideways, my head rested on the end table. While, on the other end, my legs stuck out, from the knees on. In that position, balancing my plate I managed to eat my final two breasts. Finally, I was full! You think? I couldn’t really move, without risking a chicken explosion all over southern Japan. I pretended I was just satisfied, when really I was two pieces, past satisfied. Deysi was now looking at me in a new light. She was now definitely convinced of my insanity.

I was not dumb enough to finish the meal by asking for more. I just told her, “that was great” and left it like that. My stomach was distended for two days. I never let her know just how close she was to bringing me to my knees. Nor did I, ever again, mess around with portion control at dinner. Ron was slightly disappointed, because her mom had promised her a “crap explosion” if I ate all the chicken. I can only say, that Ron is lucky, I never found her “blue chicken” pet that day. Or, my portion would have been 6 and 1/2 pieces. Bbuurrrppp.