A Life Worth Eating

I had only been in Tokyo a week, but my practice of the Japanese art of kuiadore was progressing quite nicely. By eating my way to financial ruin and an irreversibly larded midsection over the past several years, I had actually been getting a head start on connecting with this culture before I even arrived. Or at least that’s what I told myself as I tried to justify walking around with this ridiculous piece of paper in my hand. Let me explain…

It was my last night in Tokyo, and I was on my own for dinner. Both of my friends had already left, and our collective knowledge of Japanese had gone with them. Beyond food words, I know essentially nothing (for me this is a trend across several languages, English included). So I asked a staff member at the hotel to write out a simple message for me on a sheet of paper — Please give me the longest menu this restaurant offers. Thank you.