The starchy taste of the Glico curry wasn’t too new for me. I didn’t mind the texture of the halibut, but if I were to do it differently, it wouldn’t hurt to go for a bigger piece.
In between bites, … more »
I didn’t know I was Japanese Canadian until almost four years ago. I was twenty. Growing up, I never blended the two words into a single neat term that hinted at my family’s history. As a kid, I probably described … more »
It’s been almost ten years now since my grandmother died. My grandfather came to live with us later that year, and spent the whole time fighting with my dad. I didn’t speak to him while he was there – I … more »
Tamagawa Kanjin. This was my father’s name. He told me that Tamagawa is Japanese for marble river. Such a conflicted meaning–marble does not flow. Other translations, jewel river and bullet river, are just as poetic and unclear. But … more »
I always had a penchant for doing things I wasn’t supposed to, especially as a child. One hazy summer, I was poking around on my mother’s silver MacBook, feeling quite clever for having cracked her not-so-difficult password: my full name. … more »
Obachan is a force to be reckoned with. She guides me through Tokyo Station with the speed and efficiency of someone less than half her age. Her body, eighty-three years in the making, carries its own weight, its own burdens, … more »