Prior to January 17, 1995, I didn’t have much knowledge of Kobe, Japan. Kobe is a chic port city on Osaka Bay in the western part of the country. In the early 1990s, it was a fashionable center of commerce, industry, and technology. Kobe is famous for its picturesque hillsides, elevated highways, and railroad bridges that appear to twist about the city like strands of spaghetti. Complex in its beauty, the city reminds me of San Francisco, crowded, condensed, and confident.
Then January 17, 1995 happened.
Earthquake rubble, eerily reminiscent of the Northridge earthquake that occurred exactly one year earlier in Los Angeles, headlined the news about this scenic city. And just like the 1933 earthquake that struck Long Beach, California, seismologists, engineers, and earthquake experts focused their attention on learning as much as they could about how to survive a major seismic event. In the aftermath, Japanese building codes, laws, and construction guidelines were rewritten in an effort to strengthen existing and future projects, and to save lives.
A few years later, in 2000, Shigeo and I booked a trip to Japan. We visited several historic cities, shrines, monuments, and mountains. There was, however, only one city I really wanted to experience. I had a strong desire to see how a Japanese city recovered from a devastating earthquake, measuring 7.2 on the Richter Scale. I also had a burning desire to enjoy real Kobe beef.
As part-time Texans, treating ourselves to delicious steak, marketed as Kobe beef, was something we did periodically. The beef was good – but mostly just very expensive. In advance of the trip to Kobe, I read stories, watched video, and imagined how real Kobe beef would taste. I knew I had to have some.
Our visits to Osaka, Nara, and Kyoto were beautiful. The red, yellow, and orange colors of fall helped frame the beauty of a landscape that’s steeped in culture and tradition. That afternoon, our train trip from Kyoto to Kobe took about one-hour. By evening, a light rain was falling, causing the streets and sidewalks to glisten in the evening light. Our Japanese guidebook identified our destination as a small, non-descript restaurant rated as one of the best steakhouses in the city. Following block after twisting block of shops, bars, and restaurants – fully illuminated in neon, Shigeo found our destination. Misono. At Misono, they serve local beef raised in the traditional manner – and prepared at the table.
Stepping inside the restaurant was like entering another world. It was an old building, small, and somewhat cramped. We were seated and served ice cold beer. I relaxed as I felt eyes checking me out. The eyes of curiosity, accompanied by indirect and very soft smiles, eventually made me feel comfortable, especially since my Japanese partner, fluent in English, translated everything I could see and hear. It was a truly foreign experience for me. I could see that Shigeo immediately earned the respect of strangers in and around our table. In Japan, it’s honorable to be fluent in English. He ordered our meal.
Kobe beef comes from the Tajima strain of Japanese black cattle born, raised, and slaughtered in the Hyogo Prefecture. The cattle are raised in a stress-free environment with room to move about as they please. Part of the cattle’s pampering is a diet which includes beer, Japanese rice wine and periodic massages. This method contributes to the tenderness of the young animal’s muscle and connective tissue, making it, arguably, the best beef in the world.
When our order was presented, the sweet aroma triggered my nostrils to open and my eyes to close. The beef was a beautiful, rich, red color with fatty marbling strands running throughout. I was in beef heaven. The meat was served as thin slices which, when placed on my tongue, simply melted into complete, buttery deliciousness, the likes of which I had never known. Shigeo, the ravenous meat lover, could not stop raving about the exquisite flavor and texture of the beef. I’ve never seen him react to food as he did that November night.
There we sat, savoring each morsel. It was a heavenly experience, one where you realize that dreams really do come true. We’ve never stopped talking about that Kobe beef experience.
We learned a few things that night as well. We learned that sometimes it makes sense to indulge in the finer things in life. We also learned that nothing is finer than sharing a good meal with the person you care about most in this complicated, earth-shaking world.
Kommentarer