Page 56 of A Serving of Hope

“I could fetch you one I’ve been enjoying recently. Hoju, it’s called. From Hiroshima. Tastes amazing warmed up.”

“Hiroshima, eh? I’d love to try it. Just a little is fine, though—really.” Yuiko held her thumb and forefinger a fraction apart to demonstrate.

“I’ll warm you up a small flask.” Koishi trotted off to the kitchen.

Yuiko glanced around the now-silent restaurant. It looked just like the casual shokudo eateries her father had taken her to as a little girl. She remembered taking half an hour to finish a single bowl of udon, her father hurrying her all the while.

“Shabby old place, isn’t it?” said Koishi, grinning as she set down a reddish-brown Bizen sake flask and cup in front of her.

“It’s funny,” said Yuiko, cupping the warm flask with both hands. “I’ve never been here before, but it feels strangely familiar.”

“It gets seriously drafty in the winter, and the heating barely works,” said Koishi, before giving her a mischievous look. “So the only way to warm ourselves up is with sake.”

“You sound like a seasoned drinker.”

“My mom always used to say I got it from Dad.”

Seeing Koishi glance at the family altar that was just visible in the adjoining room, Yuiko bowed her head politely.

“By the way,” Koishi went on, studying Yuiko closely, “if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you? You don’t look anything like the age Akane mentioned.”

It was true: There wasn’t a trace of gray in her short-cropped hair, and there was something almost un-Japanese about her striking, well-defined features.

“I’m fifty-seven, I swear. I’ve just had a few…tweaks along the way,” said Yuiko, smiling wryly as she pointed at her eyes and nose. “You could say this isn’t quite the real me.”

“Tweaks. As in—”

“Plastic surgery, yes. I had my reasons. It was a long time ago. My father gave me hell for it.”

Koishi tilted her head to one side and leaned in slightly. “Well, for what it’s worth, it’s very…professional. You look younger than me! Maybe I should get some work done myself.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” replied Yuiko, a vaguely sorrowful look crossing her features. “It might just change your whole life.”

“Sorry for the wait,” said Nagare, arriving with a three-tiered wooden steamer, which he set down in front of Yuiko. “Given the chilly weather we’ve been having, I’ve focused on hot dishes.”

Yuiko glanced up at him. “I feel warmer just looking at them!”

“I’ll run you through everything,” said Nagare, removing the lid and setting each tier of the steamer on a separate white plate in front of her.

Yuiko’s eyes sparkled as she took in the spread. “I hope I can finish all this.”

“It looks like a lot, but the portions are actually quite small. There are three dishes in each steamer. In the first one, on the left, you have sawara mackerel, grilled Kyoto-style in a white miso marinade, simmered Shogoin turnip, and softshell turtle in a savory steamed custard. In the middle steamer: slices of duck breast layered with namafu—wheat-gluten cake, that is—to be enjoyed with the mustard paste. Next to that is the steamed oyster—it was on the large side, so I’ve sliced it up for you. Try that with some of the grated daikon and chili. And a steamed crab terrine, served with a yuzu gelée. In the third steamer: Omi beef–tongue stew, simmered with a blend of white and red miso. You’ll want a spoon for that. The middle dish is steamed fugu, which you can garnish with the minced negi onions and a dash of ponzu. Finally, on the right: kuruma prawn wrapped in tofu skin and lightly seared. Nice with a sprinkle of matcha salt.”

Yuiko gripped her chopsticks and let out an admiring sigh. “What a feast. I don’t think I’ve eaten any of these dishes before.”

“Since they’re all warm dishes, here are some pickles as a palate cleanser,” Nagare went on, setting down three small bowls. “The yellowish one is suguki, the white one is Shogoin turnip, and the purple one is shibazuke: eggplant, cucumber, and ginger mixed with red perilla leaves. All minced quite finely, so use a spoon for those too. I’ll bring some rice through in a moment.”

“Just let me know if you need more of that sake,” said Koishi, before following her father into the kitchen.

Yuiko studied the three steamers once more, then replaced the lids on those on either side and pulled the middle one toward her. After a quick sip of the sake, she poured the yuzu gelée over the steamed crab terrine and brought it to her lips.

“Wow,” she gasped, almost involuntarily.

The warm meat was delicate and sweet, while the gelée added a tangy citrus accent. As the fragrance of yuzu reached her nose, Yuiko closed her eyes in bliss.

She’d only sampled one of the nine dishes, and already she felt utterly content.

Working as a nurse meant irregular hours. That, coupled with the fact that she lived alone, meant she rarely managed to enjoy a proper meal. Most of the time she simply picked up a convenience store bento on her way back from the hospital, or ordered udon from a local restaurant.