Friday, March 14, 2003

In my old neighborhood in Japan, Gotokuji, when I wanted fresh tofu all I had to do was go out of my little apartment building, and then down a shady little lane to the curving shopping street. Right at the corner was a miniature tofu factory where a diminutive and very inquisitive old lady would first ask me if I wanted firm or soft, then she'd fetch for me the freshest, loveliest tofu you can imagine. I used to eat it plain.

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