close your eyes for a moment and think about every type of mushroom you have ever eaten.
in no particular order, my list includes: morels, white button mushrooms, oyster mushrooms, chanterelle, portabellas, creminis (which are technically just baby portabellas), hen-of-the-woods, shiitake, brown clamshells, white clamshells, porcini, matsutake, enokitake, maitake, and king trumpet mushrooms. there might be some others, but those are the main ones i can think of. honestly, i think fourteen different kind of mushrooms is pretty good right off the top of my head. what was your score?
while you are distracted with this fun little mental exercise, i guess i’ll go ahead and get to the point of this post.
true, this post is about mushrooms as i am sure you have already guessed. but this post is also about a swedish guy named carl linnaeus.
there are people in this world who roll out of bed on saturday morning, pour some milk over stale cereal, and watch morning cartoons until their eyes hurt. when the cartoons are over, they microwave some pizza rolls just long enough for them to stop being frozen, eat them, and then go back to bed for the rest of the day.
then there are those people who wake up with the sun, make coffee, bake a batch of bread pudding, and head out to the farm by 9:00 a.m. those people are more my style.
i like to tell people sometimes that living an amazing, fulfilling life in izu is the simplest thing you could imagine. it requires only a few basic tenants.
i should apologize for the title of this post, but i won’t. it’s awesome and i am 100% unashamed.
let’s go ahead and nip this in the bud. there are, more likely than not, a fair amount of people out there reading this post and thinking “what is yuzu?” there are a couple of answers to that question.
first, the short answer. yuzu is delicious.
and now, the long answer.
since she arrived in japan, my girlfriend has been asking me if i could find some time to take her to tokyo. she is new to japan, and her enthusiasm is admirable. which is to say, i totally understand her reasoning for wanting to go. when she returns home, her friends and family are more than likely going to ask her the usual battery of ridiculous questions, and to be unable to answer them would be embarassing.
- did anyone try to grope you on the train?
- how did you use chopsticks for so long?
- did you see any ninjas?
- how was the sushi?
- are you radioactive now?
- what was tokyo like?
when your family expects an impressive story about the capital of japan and you respond with “i didn’t go to tokyo because my boyfriend was busy,” you end up looking the fool. how did you go to japan and not end up in tokyo one time?