Typhoons Bring New Adventures (In Food)

I went to my first cooking lesson during the season’s first typhoon. The second typhoon rolled in this past weekend. It started to rain before I woke up on Friday and didn’t cease until after I went to sleep on Saturday. The food associated with this storm is an unpleasant one. I had my first encounter with natto.

I had heard of natto during my JET orientation in Tokyo. It’s infamous. And disgusting. Picture if you will a spider web. Connected to beans. Fermented beans. Beans that smell like cheese and mold. You’re getting close. Now look at these pictures and think of all of this fermented, chunky, webbed, smelly stuff in your mouth.



It’s enough to turn anyone’s stomach. Anyone not including the millions of Japanese who love natto and eat it for breakfast and lunch and dinner, and who love to get foreigners to taste it.

I’m not accusing my dinner hosts on Saturday night of any such nefarious designs. They didn’t know I’d been avoiding natto. When a teacher at my elementary school invited me to her house for dinner she even asked me about my food dislikes. I mentioned my normal list, completely forgetting to add natto.

Saturday evening rolled around. She drove me to her house where I met her husband and young daughter. Chizuru, another teacher from school, was also there. The table, low to the ground, surrounded by pillows, was covered in small plates, store-bought sushi platters, soup bowls, and salads. The salad was lettuce, cucumber, octopus, and mayonnaise. Cautious, I nibbled. There was no need, it was delicious. After salad, our attention turned to the sushi. One set looked particularly interesting. Large rolls with cubed brown stuff to one side, a raw quail egg still in its shell to the other. I watched my host pour the egg into the roll and eat it all in one bite. I must have looked intrigued since before she had even finished her husband had placed one on my plate. “Natto,” he said, smiling earnestly. I couldn’t say no. I dropped the egg in, and slowly lifted the sushi. One last glance around the table and I plopped the whole thing in my mouth. My immediate reaction was that it wasn’t so bad, but as soon as I began to chew the thing and the webbiness became apparent I quickly changed my mind. I wanted to vomit. The room felt hotter. My hosts’ faces quickly changed from bemusement to concern as they questioned if I was all right. I nodded weakly. It took me far too long, but I managed to finish the sushi. Swigging my iced tea, I felt desperate for the meal to return to a normal pace and focus. I apologized for how much the natto took me by surprise and ventured that the food she made herself was delicious. She graciously accepted my change of topic and the meal resumed its course. Conversation ranged from Halloween, to rugby, to school life, to Dickens. After the meal we enjoyed cheese cake, pears, and clementines, and played various card games popular with her daughter.

It was a wonderful evening marred only by the evil, evil natto. I can only hope that I will never meet with it again.