Inspector Collector

EVIL GAFFES, EDIBLE OCTOPUS GUTS, & THE BEST PIECE OF SASHIMI EVER

No amount of advance information can spoil the rush of running the warrens of the coolest fish market on earth, the raucous Tsukiji-shijo.  While most residents are in dreamland, central Tokyo is abuzz with rugged men in white rubber boots whirling forklifts-full of catch from all 7 seas.  Family businesses over 20-generations old are not uncommon in Japan’s answer to Australia’s king-size fish market. 

While some fuss over microscopic and pricey sea-urchin eggs, others team up on either end of 7-foot knives to slice sumo-sized maguro (tuna).

Restaurateurs bid on small lots consisting of two live flounders and a single swishing snapper. 

Coiffed and lipsticked women man tiny booths, tallying kilos and ¥en on wooden soroban (abacus).  By 8 am many non-fish stalls begin hustling Kobe beef, fresh-cut kiku and bara (chrysanthemum and roses), fanciful paper placemats, and a mind-boggling array of kitchen utensils.  Select from a variety of shark-skin graters to prepare a dozen different grades of fresh wasabi, the knurled roots of lime-green horseradish that are as essential to sashimi (sliced raw fish) as soy sauce.

Like New York’s infamous Fulton Street fish market did in 2006, Tsukiji will move to sparkling and cobblestone-free quarters by 2012. 

Will eco-conscious vegans ever be able to stop this emptying of the oceans and building of mountains of stinky Styrofoam?

JAPANESE CHANKONABE: BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS, SUMO STYLE

6 am practice session

8-man "Sumo-Conga" line, part of the morning workout.

The bellybutton of the ancient art of Sumo is Ryogoku, Japan. This Tokyo neighborhood is home to dozens of human stables stocked with very large men dedicating their lives to an amalgamation of brutal battle, Shintoism, chankonabe meal-to-nap rituals designed to put on pounds faster than pre-hibernation grizzlies, mizuhiki (thin white paper cording) used to tie their long hair in a style resembling gingko leaves, and loads of the pungent pomade shown below:

Just after sun-up, sleepy side-streets begin to resound with the slaps and smacks of whale-sized wrestlers  going skin-to-skin in naught but mawashi (30 feet or so of thick canvas loincloth).  Practice goes on for hours in finely-sifted dirt rings about 30’ in circumference.  They play hard and fall harder, yet their faces hardly register the huge range of emotion covered in the seconds-long bouts.  O-Sumo are the toast of the town and rightly so – it is utterly astonishing to witness the balance, grace and poise that can come with 24-7-365 dedication. 

Japanese kids walking to school in Asakusa barely seem to notice the gentle giants with whom they share the sidewalks.  Adolescents in Japan are more partial to baseball than Sumo:

    

Nonetheless, Japan's most unique sport has its youthful devotees, inculcated during infancy via naki-zumo, when babies carried by adults are pitted against one another in the dohyo (Sumo ring) - the loudest crier wins!

Nothing on earth can compare with Sumo, or the thrill of how this husky baritone responded to my morning greeting with "‘zaimas," a hip shortening of ohayo gozaimas - good morning.