Toluu

Culinary Abortions from Japan

A Journal of Food Failures

40. Octopus Ice CreamJune 11

It is on this melancholic note that Culinary Abortions from Japan must come to a sudden, dire end.

Readers will be saddened, or perhaps relieved, but they will not be surprised–for there is no greater offense than to sully the palatial easel of ice cream with octopus ejecta.

The fact that there is a market for this pure abortion is more depressing than CROCS brand shoes, Japan’s immigration policy, or an afternoon of watching synchronized swimming.

But these comparisons aside, the writer, although not abandoning the pen, must for obvious reasons pictured above, pursue voluntary deportation.

As a final note, thank you for your continued support and interest in Culinary Abortions. Such a fine readership as you has given me hope for the kitchens of tomorrow and the betterment of today. Together, we can stop these gustatory injustices from invading our homes and communities. May you now take guard against these very insults in your day-to-day life.

And please do not let these posts deter you from visiting Japan; it is a country filled with honest people and with something amusing (as you can see) for almost everyone. Just remember– if you d

39. The Miso Soup BombJune 11

We’ve already discussed how some treasures in life cannot be captured.

But this is a new level of debauchery. Miso Soup, one of Japan’s greatest culinary merits, is now reduced to a conglomeration of dehydrated chunks trapped within a cave of thinly-walled wafer. The wafer quickly (i.e. one minute) “explodes” in hot water, realeasing its contents into what then becomes an approximation of miso soup. However, by the time the tofu is rehydrated the broth has turned luke-warm, leading to an overall abortion of timing…

…this is beginning to sound like the time you slept with that co-worker two cubicles down.

It isn’t hard to make good Miso Soup. If you have a pot, miso, and a millimetre of tofu, you can do it. Oh, you’ll also have to stir for the duration of one TV commercial, which may be too much for some. Enter the bomb.

38. The Marshmallow ParfaitJune 9

This is just one example of how the Japanese gourmandize ball-park favourites and convert them into something slightly more honourable than Big League Chew.

Yet, this particular recipe is rather byzantine and requires a lot of prep time. Luckily, an incubus imparted it to me last night at 3am. Please follow it, as it will quickly increase your circle of friends.

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The Marshmallow Parfait

Ingredients

1. 4 feminine-coloured marshmallows

2. 1 cup butter or I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter! Spread.

3. One glass imprinted with vogue yet meaningless French sentences. (preferably written in Monotype Corsiva, font size 16).

Directions

1. Eject butter into 8oz. glass until nearly full. Wipe grease smears evenly from rim of glass.

2. Dump on four feminine-coloured marshmallows, preferably of the cuboid variety (the cylindrical “barrel-shaped” marshmallows of The West may work in an emergency).

3. Garnish your forehead with 4oz. fake tears as if to portray the ill

37. The Convenience Store HamburgerJune 7

“HYOGO — Police on Tuesday said that a 19-year-old man was taken to hospital on Sunday night after he swallowed a 1-cm fish hook inside a hamburger that his mother bought for him at a FamilyMart convenience store in Himeji City, Hyogo Prefecture.

According to police, the man’s mother bought the “tartar burger” around 4 p.m. and heated it up for her son that night. He complained of a severe stomach ache around 8 p.m. and was taken to hospital. An X-ray revealed the hook inside his stomach.

Police said a second hook was found inside the burger’s wrapping paper and believe they may have been deliberately placed in the burger.”

Thanks to Japan Today for this important newsflash. There are no words left unsaid.

36. The Bifurcated OctopusJune 5

In addition to buying vending machine takoyaki, you can now buy a fully bifurcated octopus for roughly $20 US.

The benefits of purchasing a mid-sagittal plane cut of octopus are myriad: this option gives you a good amount of tentacles and promotes a feeling of conviviality, as if you are buying a pet or a friend.

The Bifurcated Octopus is also superior to pre-packaged tentacles sold in vending machines; it has not been cross-contaminated with other vending machine favourites, such as magnum-free condoms or used underwear.

The only caveat is this. Despite the simulacrum of life you are seeing here, this product is dead. You cannot go home and put it in a tank or name it Joe. Your only option is to eat it with a palliative mayonnaise or five pounds of pancake batter.

Sadly, the transverse-plane cut was not available. We must wait in silence for the day that octopus is sold as an intact head or a sequence of arms.