{"id":286,"date":"2019-12-25T05:01:43","date_gmt":"2019-12-25T05:01:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/?p=286"},"modified":"2019-12-18T16:06:14","modified_gmt":"2019-12-18T16:06:14","slug":"sukiyaki-christmas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/2019\/12\/25\/sukiyaki-christmas\/","title":{"rendered":"Sukiyaki Christmas"},"content":{"rendered":"

(Written in December 2012)<\/em><\/p>\n

When my mother was in her twenties, she had sukiyaki parties with her friends in Hiroshima.\u00a0 Instead of bring your own booze, it was bring your own extra ingredient.\u00a0 To complement the sliced beef, it could be cubed blocks of tofu, a tangle of graykonnyaku<\/em>noodles, sliced napa cabbage or the Wonder Bread of noodles, white pillowy udon.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

It was a risk, you see, as no one would consult with one another.\u00a0 So you might end up with a stew of beef and only konnyaku<\/em>, made from the devil\u2019s tongue root, which in its plant form looks positively phallic.\u00a0 That was the fun of it.\u00a0 Not knowing what might result at these sukiyaki get-togethers.<\/p>\n

As my mother tells us this, the steam from the sukiyaki fogs her bifocals.\u00a0 Our small family is gathered around the electric pan this past Christmas Eve.\u00a0 There\u2019s no red and green Christmas tablecloth, no holy candles.<\/p>\n

Dad stays at the table for only a few minutes.\u00a0 His emaciated body in his loose pajamas, he sits bent over a bowl.\u00a0 He is only able to manage a teacup\u2019s worth of rice, meat and sauce, if even that.\u00a0 He returns to bed.\u00a0 Our youngest at the table, Rowan, only two, smiles widely, his mouth full of a mash of rice and meat.\u00a0 He is oblivious that life is literally seeping out of our family circle.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Christmas for me always feels a little odd, like putting on a nice piece of clothing that doesn\u2019t quite fit.\u00a0 It\u2019s bad enough that we are here in Los Angeles, with joggers and bicyclists ubiquitous on our sunny December streets.\u00a0 It does seem foolish to send cards and sing songs centered on snow and glowing fireplaces \u2013 definitely more myth than reality.<\/p>\n

And for me, it\u2019s not about faith and religion even, because I became a Christian convert at an early age on my own.\u00a0 But I grew up with smells of broiled salmon instead of gingerbread during the holiday season.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t get me wrong; there\u2019s usually a Christmas tree and even decorations; I\u2019ve even hand made a few.<\/p>\n

In my childhood, Christmas Eve was usually spent at the house of another gardener\u2019s family in Altadena.\u00a0 Bunk beds and rooms filled with children, it was lively and raucous.\u00a0 The parents would spend all night around a mahjong table, the rumble of tiles sounding like the revving up of a small airplane.<\/p>\n

The boy around my age was glued to a transistor radio.\u00a0 \u201cSanta is above Whittier.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cSanta is above Monrovia.\u201d\u00a0 He\u2019d provide the rest of us regular reports while his older brothers pelted him with insults.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re too old to believe in Santa.\u201d<\/p>\n

We\u2019d usually stay until it was way past midnight.<\/p>\n

One Christmas, I doze off while sitting in between my parents in the front seat of our van on our way home.<\/p>\n

My mother laments that she doesn\u2019t have time to secretly bring out my presents from Santa.<\/p>\n

I open my eyes halfway.<\/p>\n

She sighs and says, \u201cYou know there\u2019s really no Santa, Naomi.\u201d<\/p>\n

And yes, it comes as no shock at all.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

This year, our first holiday without Dad, Mom asks what we should do on Christmas.<\/p>\n

I say, \u201cLet\u2019s make this a Sukiyaki Christmas.\u201d\u00a0 Let\u2019s huddle together around the electric skillet, each pair of chopsticks drawing out something different for our respective bowls of rice.<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s forget about making another turkey (ordered that from Whole Foods for Thanksgiving).\u00a0 Let\u2019s forget about the ham.<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s just sit elbow to elbow in the linoleum-floored kitchen, tossing in different meats and vegetables, being washed in a steam of sugar, soy sauce and mirin<\/em>and hearing the Lakers game in the background.<\/p>\n

We will be a smaller circle this Christmas, but nonetheless still a circle.\u00a0 Heck, if we are feeling adventurous, maybe we\u2019ll play that game of my mother\u2019s young adulthood, each bringing something for that evening\u2019s sukiyaki, not knowing what will be in excess and what will be in want.<\/p>\n

Whether your Christmas will be full of joy, sadness or Chinese food, I hope that you enter 2020 with a sense of peace. Much love to all of you, my readers. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(Written in December 2012) When my mother was in her twenties, she had sukiyaki parties with her friends in Hiroshima.\u00a0 Instead of bring your own booze, it was bring your own extra ingredient.\u00a0 To complement the sliced beef, it could be cubed blocks of tofu, a tangle of graykonnyakunoodles, sliced napa cabbage or the Wonder […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-286","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-writing-wednesday"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/286","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=286"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/286\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":287,"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/286\/revisions\/287"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=286"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=286"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.naomihirahara.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=286"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}