Breakfast at Tsukiji's

     "How about meeting at Tsukiji for our final meal together?" asked the five Eating Out Group tomodachis, referring to the biggest seafood market on earth. Since the days of old Edo dealers have operated from this port  to satisfy a diet that draws seriously on les fruits de mer. To get the measure of the place, think Fulton Fish Market to the tenth power.  As the auction gets started around 5:30 AM, gaijin (foreigners) like to start their Tokyo tour there. Jet-lag does not mix well with 900 professional wholesale dealers; since May the market has limited the number of visitors to 140 per day. With our rendezvous set for 10 AM, our group manages to miss rush hour and I have invited another American friend who rounds out the group.

    Descending into the bowels of Azabu Juban to board the Toei Oedo line bound for Tsukijishijo eki (station) I bump into one of my eating companions. "I'm 77, same as Yoko Ono," she likes to say, and both of them are holding up well. Although she is an Edoko (native), this is a first for her on the Toei Oedo as well as eating at Tsukiji. We climb up into the market, greeted by a dense heat as well as earlybirds toting their purchases. While the auction may be over, the market is a hive of shops and the place is buzzing. Weaving our way through the market's alleyways, on one side a shopkeeper demonstrates his knives while on the other today's catch is on display. Surprisingly there is no noticeable fishy smell. Long queues form in front of some of the sushi shops. Last month Phyllis and I stopped at a kaiten joint (plates on a conveyor belt) where four plates of the freshest nigirizushi amounted to Y 600 ($7).

   "Shall we try chirashizushi?" asked tomodachi ("scattered" sushi over a bowl of rice rather than individual pieces). For Y 1, 400 (about $15) seated at the counter, in minutes we were served miso soup and sushi bowls with a glass of mugi cha (cold barley tea). "The fish in the picture looked nicer," tomodachi told the counterman, who quickly handed over a plate of extra maguro. "Not enough vinegar in the rice," whispered another tomodachi. "How do you like the taste of urchin?" asked third tomodachi, referring to the yolk colored item without flavor. "That is squid," explained another tomodachi about a bowl with three nut shaped items. Perhaps the places with queues are superior, they wondered, as we polished off brunch. Calendars out, they  set up September's lunch --the first one without me ("We miss you!" they say poignantly in the present tense)-- and promised that whenever I next visit Tokyo they will organize a reunion.