The explicitness and elegance of Japanese cuisine seduce Gamal Nkrumah Like lacquer, a unique Japanese artistic substance skillfully applied as a coating ostensibly to beautify an object, but in reality to render it resistant to heat, humidity, acid and insects, most Japanese dishes embody this dualistic nature -- pleasing to the eye, as well as being subtly delectable, nourishing and therapeutic. In the 1600s, astounded by the comeliness of fine Japanese lacquer wares, Europeans simple called lacquer "Japan", just as they called fine ceramics "China". Hence even to this day the process of beautifying an object by varnishing or lacquering is often referred to as "japanning". In much the same way, the modern borrowing of Japanese cooking techniques, finishing touches and presentation of the most delectable of dishes of the French diet was termed "nouvelle cuisine". But to begin with, the Europeans were not particularly enamoured with the Japanese cuisine as they were with its exquisite lacquer. Moreover, the onus was on the generosity, rather than on the graciousness of the host. Japanese portions smacked of stinginess, even churlishness. The point of Japanese table manners is that both host and guest value discretion above all. Japanese piquancy is an acquired taste, and Egyptians are only now becoming more familiar with the matchless flavours of the kitchens of Japan. For those unfamiliar with the sensations that ooze out from the Japanese cooking pot, like the sap that seeps from the notches cut into the bark of a lacquer tree, Japanese cuisine is exemplified by presenting a polished finish. "We were done for," the woman with the golden-wreathed wrist whispered. Raw fish for lunch, octopus for dinner washed down with green tea? The voluptuous connoisseur brushed her mane of synthetic copper and vermilion headgear to one side before artfully reaching out for her chopsticks. I politely pointed out that she held them upside down. She embodied the women and a sprinkling of men around the table: they dreaded being deprived of carbohydrates and being forced to feast instead on an overdose of protein -- the raw flesh of the denizens of the deep. A true lover of Japanese cuisine would not have gone to the trouble of such a kabuki flirtation with chopsticks. I used to take the conservative line on Japanese cuisine, maintaining the view that sushi and sashimi were best assembled with the simplest of foils. I have wavered a little since visiting Japan, discovering a host of authentic regional victuals that rival my favourite sashimi in taste and texture. The Japanese excel at elevating the mundane to the sublime. It is a national pastime and an individual vocation. So it was at the Japanese Cooking Demonstration and Lecture Programme organised by the Japan Foundation and the Japanese Embassy in Cairo at the Holiday Inn, City Stars, Nasr City. Chef Takako Fujita, invited by the Japan Foundation, demonstrated a complete understanding of the subject with a slide show and a film about Japanese cuisine. That evening things picked up. We were introduced to the personal chef of the Japanese Ambassador to Cairo Norihiro Okuda. The chef in question, Hida Makoto, hails from the northern Japanese city of Nigata where as a talented 19- year-old he studied Chinese cuisine. "The Japanese are especially fond of Chinese comestibles and I chose to specialise in the Cantonese cuisine of southern China," Hida Makoto told Al-Ahram Weekly. We moved on to enjoy the classic Japanese Tea Ceremony. The opening remarks by Ambassador Norihiro Okuda, who has spent the last three decades climbing to the top of the Japanese diplomatic ladder after joining the Japanese Foreign Ministry in 1975, elucidated on the concept of "Japanese food as culture". During a demonstration of a typical Japanese tea ceremony, where I confess I made something of a fool of myself, Ambassador Norihiro Okuda could hardly suppress a smile. His wife, at his side, was in stitches. I was the first of eight participants of this most hallowed of Japanese traditions. I was ill prepared for the solemn occasion even though I had gone through the ritual and rigmarole in Kyoto some years before. We were warned that the green tea was excessively caustic, but we had to gulp the bitter brew in three mouthfuls and "appreciate the tea to the last sip". It suddenly seems that the ambassador's interest in culinary culture almost supersedes his interest in diplomacy and politics. Our dainty hostess in a flowery pink kimono tiptoed towards me at which point my heart was pounding, my hands started shaking and my lips trembled. "Place the bowl in front of your knee and bow saying otemaechoudai itashimas," His Excellency's spouse implored. By this point my knees knocked jerkily and the hostess had a fit of the giggles. "Place the bowl on your left palm and steady the bowl with your right hand," I barely heard Kishimori Hajime, my dear friend the cultural attaché at the Japanese Embassy in Cairo plead with me. "Turn the bowl twice clockwise on your left palm to avoid drinking tea from its front. The chrysanthemum must face your host." I was totally lost by then, not knowing my left hand from my right and I searched in vain for the flower in question. I was apparently turning the bowl anti-clockwise and my greatest headache was to inadvertently drop the blasted bowl in the process. "Hold the bowl up slightly to express your gratitude," a voice thundered. I was stunned into silence and we were promptly served a most obnoxious concoction of unnaturally luminescent green. "When you finish drinking, wipe the edge of the bowl where your lips were touching with your right index finger," the voice reverberated throughout the hall. "Clean finger with the paper on which the sweets was served." To the horror of my hostess, I think I used my thumb instead. Amid howls of laughter I rose to leave the podium when I was summoned back. "Turn the bowl twice counter-clockwise on your left palm in order to put the bowl back into its original position." If it was any consolation, I believe my presence provided something of a comic relief for the other participants and a comic drama for my Japanese hosts. Outside the diplomatic hothouse, Ambassador Norihiro Okuda can let his guard down, if only a bit. The lovely ladies constituting his diplomatic entourage, in sharp contrast, were evidently enthralled by my comedy of manners. My main concern was that my Japanese hosts did not perceive my pitiful performance as over-the-top. All told, there's a skill in keeping such events fresh. The price of a sumptuous Japanese meal in Cairo, of course, borders on the sort of lunacy normally reserved for the top end of nouvelle cuisine and en primeur Bordeaux. Sushi is simple and unpretentious. It is the quintessential Japanese snack. And it is also a well- balanced meal in itself. The servery at the rear was stacked with Japanese delicacies, unswayed by Egyptian or any other foreign predilection.
