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My parents came for a visit last month. It was their first time
to Japan and of course, they had many wonderful experiences. For example, my
father found that he loves Japanese buckwheat noodles when served in a steaming
broth. He had said that he'd wanted to try them before he came, because
Americans eat buckwheat pancakes and he thought Americans and Japanese may have
at least one common taste in food. When the noodles were served to the table at
the restaurant he had a slightly skeptical look on his face. He timidly sniffed
the aroma wafting off the painted ceramic bowl and took a silent sip. He thought
they were a bit bland at first, but then he added some spice. My in-laws and I
watched in amusement as he poured soy sauce into the bowl.
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He took another silent sip. Then, our eyes got bigger as we
watched him heap three big spoonfuls of Japanese seven spice onto the
noodles. He took another silent sip. After that, we watched in amazement as he
took the little mounds of Japanese green horseradish from the plates of my wife,
my mother and myself, and plopped them right into his bowl and started swirling
the soup with his chopsticks. He then lifted the bowl to his lips and took a
deep drink of the soup. He raised his eyebrows and grinned. He said, "These
Japanese noodles are pretty tasty!"
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