Far away, nearby

Written Saturday night:
Dear Friends,

About a month ago I went to an art workshop in Napa led by Judy Coates-Perez. She taught many skills, but the most important to me was an aside — that there is a great Japanese supermarket on Freeport Boulevard. (Teachers never know what nugget will stick.) I have a soup recipe that calls for mirin, which I have not been able to find at Safeway or Trader Joe’s,  so finally today I searched for it at Oto's Marketplace. 

I felt as off-balance there as if I were on a skateboard. I could not read the labels. I did not recognize the pink and green sweets. I walked up and down the aisles looking for mirin, but had no idea where it would be. I thought it had sesame in it, so I lingered longest at the sesame oil section. Finally I asked a clerk for help. “Am I pronouncing it right?” I asked him.  No, I was missing something — the good-natured young man said MIRIN slightly differently; he pointed me to the rows of bottles. 

I also bought mushrooms with long legs and sweet pickled radish, and pork-stuffed gyoza, dumplings that I sautéed in sesame oil for lunch. They were delicious. I loved the whole trip — far away, nearby.

Love,

k