chapter 5: napolitan spaghetti

1

making her way out of kyoto station and onto karasuma-dori, asuka mizuki looked up at kyoto

tower, dimly visible through the rain.

her expression darkening ever so slightly, she hastily opened up her plastic umbrella.

i suppose it is the rainy season, she thought to herself – and yet she couldn’t help feeling a little

disappointed as she gazed up at the sky.

the rain was coming down in sheets, spattering violently up from the pavement. puddles had

formed here and there along karasuma-dori. asuka picked her way between them, zig-zagging

north up the avenue, until eventually she spotted the blurry outline of higashi honganji temple

through the rain. retrieving a notepad from the pocket of her red raincoat, she cradled the handle

of her umbrella against her right cheek while she checked the map she’d drawn, then hurried

across the pedestrian crossing.

this was asuka’s third time in kyoto. the first had been with her secondary school, and the

second with her grandfather chichiro. all she could remember from those trips was an endless

series of temples and shrines. now, as she walked east along shomen- dori, leaving higashi

honganji behind, she could almost hear her grandfather’s gentle voice in her ears.

she frowned as she came to a halt in front of a slightly drab, mortar-coated building. ‘this can’t

be it . . .’

the facade of the two-storey structure was a watery grey. not only was there no sign, but she

couldn’t even see a noren curtain to suggest that it was open. though not entirely convinced,

asuka went ahead and slid the door open.

she was greeted by a young woman in white overalls and jeans, who called out a brusque

‘come in!’

‘is this the kamogawa diner?’ asked asuka, glancing around the restaurant’s plain interior.

‘well, yes.’

‘does that mean it’s also the kamogawa detective agency?’

‘oh, so that’s what you’re here for! the office is in the back. i’m koishi kamogawa, head of

the agency.’ she bowed to asuka.

‘asuka mizuki. there’s a certain dish i’m hoping you can help me recreate.’ asuka removed

her red raincoat and bowed meekly.

‘please could you take a seat? i’ll be right with you.’

koishi began clearing dishes away and stacking them on her tray. there were no customers in

the restaurant, but traces of them were everywhere. asuka managed to find herself a chair that

hadn’t been occupied.

‘is she a customer?’ asked nagare, emerging from the kitchen.

‘yes – for the detective agency,’ said koishi, wiping the table down.

‘are you hungry?’ said nagare to asuka.

‘you mean i can eat here too?’

‘first-timers get the fixed menu. will that be alright?’

‘i’m not fussy. no allergies, either. i’ll eat anything!’ said asuka, getting to her feet and

bowing.

‘we’ve got a customer coming in tonight who’s asked for a leisurely, indulgent sort of meal.

i’ve made a bit more than i need, so i’ll serve you some of that,’ said nagare, then trotted back

into the kitchen.

‘where have you come from in this rain?’ asked koishi, carefully wiping down the table in

front of asuka.

‘hamamatsu,’ replied asuka briefly.

‘asuka, was it? so, how did you find out about us?’ asked koishi, pouring tea from her

kiyomizu-ware teapot.

‘my parents run a small izakaya, so there’s always a copy of gourmet monthly lying around the

house. i always wondered about that single-line advert – you know, the one that says we find

your food.’

‘and that led you all the way here? how on earth did you find us?’

‘at first i had no idea where to even look. i tried ringing the publisher. the editor was kind

enough to come on the line, and we had a long chat about this and that. then she agreed to break

with protocol and give me a hint. that’s how i finally found my way here.’

‘an izakaya in hamamatsu, eh? i bet you serve good eel.’

‘oh, we do eel, but it’s our gyoza that people really talk about.’ asuka took a sip of her tea.

‘ah yes – hamamatsu is a gyoza town, isn’t it,’ said nagare, approaching with a tray full of

food.

‘yes – in fact, we’ve overtaken utsunomiya to become the number one gyoza spot in japan!’

said asuka, puffing out her chest.

‘eel and gyoza. i can’t get enough of either,’ said koishi, placing a crescent-shaped lacquer tray

in front of asuka, together with a pair of rikyu chopsticks.

asuka had been expecting something simple – this was supposed to be a casual restaurant after

all – and the sight of the elegant tray and chopsticks took her by surprise. she wasn’t very used to

fancy eating, and yet it seemed she was about to be served some sort of refined kyoto cuisine.

‘i’m afraid i’m not very good with etiquette,’ said asuka, her shoulders slumping.

‘oh, don’t worry about manners. just tuck right in!’ said koishi, spraying mist over the tray.

‘even at a casual place like this, it wouldn’t be kyoto if we didn’t pay attention to the seasons.

this is all early summer fare. like koishi said, just relax and tuck in.’

asuka watched nervously as nagare transferred a series of tiny plates, each smaller than the

palm of his hand, onto the lacquer tray in front of her.

‘these are so pretty!’ she found herself blurting out.

‘oh, they’re a real mix. antiques, old western plates, some by modern artisans . . .’

soon the tray was a riot of flowery colour. asuka counted them, pointing to each in turn.

twelve dishes.

‘starting from the top left: thinly sliced akashi sea bream sashimi, with a prickly ash bud and

miso dressing – to be enjoyed with the ponzu dipping sauce. miso- glazed kamo aubergine.

maizuru cockles sandwiched between slices of myoga ginger. gizzard shad marinated in sweet

vinegar, served in a miniature sushi roll. fried matsutake, conger eel grilled two ways, manganji

sweet pepper tempura, abalone pickled in kyoto-style sweet white miso and then grilled. fish

paste noodles, kurama-style local chicken, smoked mackerel with a pine nut stuffing. fresh soy

milk curd and vegetables pickled with red perilla. everything’s bite-sized, so it should be nice and

easy to eat. i’ll bring you some eel-topped rice once that’s finished cooking. please, enjoy the

meal!’

with his explanation complete, nagare tucked the tray under his arm.

‘i’ve never eaten anything like this before. i don’t even know where to start!’ said asuka, her

eyes sparkling.

‘just eat whatever you fancy, however you fancy,’ said nagare, then bowed and headed back to

the kitchen.

‘thank you,’ said asuka, joining her hands together humbly in front of the food. then she

reached for her chopsticks.

asuka dipped the sea bream in the ponzu and inserted it into her mouth, then let out a little

gasp. next, without a moment’s hesitation, she sprinkled some salt on the deep-fried matsutake,

took a bite, and nodded vigorously.

nagare arrived with an earthenware pot, steam issuing from its lid, and set it down on the table.

‘watch out, this is hot!’

‘smells wonderful!’ said asuka, her nose twitching away.

‘freshwater eel is tasty enough, but there’s something about the lightness of saltwater anago.

the rice is topped with grilled anago from akashi, with a garnish of green peppercorns.’ nagare

removed the lid from the pot, unleashing a thick column of steam.

as asuka tucked in to the eel rice, a glowing smile spread across her face. nagare, watching,

bowed in her direction.

by the fourth dish, asuka’s eyes appeared to be moist with tears. by the fifth, they had begun to

trickle down her cheeks, and by the seventh she was fully weeping. she kept dabbing at her eyes

with her handkerchief.

koishi, feeling like she couldn’t just stand there, leaned over. ‘are you okay? feeling out of

sorts?’

‘i’m sorry,’ replied asuka, smiling through her tears. ‘it’s just so . . . good. whenever i eat

delicious food, i always seem to start crying.’

‘well, as long as you’re okay . . .’ koishi cleared the empty dishes and ducked back under the

curtain into the kitchen. nagare had been observing the whole scene.

asuka gazed at the five dishes remaining in front of her. she’d come here to get help with a dish

from her past, but now she couldn’t help thinking that maybe that was just destiny’s way of

bringing this food into her life. it really had moved her deeply. lovingly, and almost reluctantly,

she finished off the remaining plates.

‘how was that, then?’ asked nagare, appearing by her side as soon as she set her chopsticks

down.

‘thank you. delicious doesn’t even cover it. my heart is all aflutter!’ asuka put a hand to her

chest and took a deep breath.

‘glad to hear it. koishi is getting ready in the office, so if you could just wait a moment . . . i’ll

bring you some hot hojicha.’

nagare cleared away the empty dishes, then replaced her teapot with a banko- ware one,

alongside which he positioned a fresh teacup.

the restaurant had fallen silent, and the only sound that could be heard was that of asuka

sipping on the roasted green tea. after each sip, she’d let out a little sigh. she repeated this process

several times.

‘sorry for the wait,’ said nagare, reappearing at her side.

‘not at all,’ said asuka, getting to her feet.

nagare showed her to the back of the restaurant and down the long corridor that led to the

office.

‘what are all these?’ asked asuka, her gaze taking in the photos that lined the walls of the

corridor.

‘most of them are just dishes i made,’ said nagare, smiling bashfully as he came to a halt.

‘is this your wife?’ asuka pointed to a woman sipping from a glass in the shade of a birch tree.

‘that was the last photo i took of her. we were in karuizawa. ate her favourite soba in nagano,

went back to her favourite hotel, and drank her favourite wine. looks like she’s on cloud nine,

wouldn’t you say?’

it might just have been asuka’s imagination, but nagare’s eyes seemed to glisten slightly. not

quite knowing what to say, she ended up silently following him as he led her on down the

corridor.

‘asuka mizuki. sounds like a stage name or something!’ said koishi, watching her client scribble

down her details in her girly, rounded handwriting. she was sitting on the other side of the low

table in the office.

‘i always found it a little embarrassing,’ replied asuka, shrugging as she perched on the edge of

the sofa.

‘second year student at shinshu women’s university . . . you’re nineteen, eh? the prime of

your youth!’ said koishi enviously.

‘it doesn’t really feel like that,’ said asuka, a hint of despondency in her voice.

‘well then, what’s this dish you’d like us to recreate?’ asked koishi, opening her notebook.

‘it’s some spaghetti i ate with my grandad.’

‘what kind?’ asked koishi, scribbling away.

‘i think it was napolitan – you know, japanese-style tomato spaghetti, with a ketchup and

frankfurter sauce.’

‘oh, that’s one of dad’s specialities. did your grandfather make it for you?’

‘no. i don’t remember him ever cooking for me. we must have had it on one of our trips.’

‘took you travelling, did he? how nice!’

‘my parents were always rushed off their feet with work, so it was my grandad who looked after

me.’ asuka broke into a smile.

‘what was his name?’

‘chichiro mizuki,’ answered asuka, straightening her posture.

‘what about your grandmother?’

‘she died from illness not long after i was born,’ replied asuka, her voice turning glum. ‘i can

barely remember her.’

‘and where did you go on this trip with the spaghetti?’ asked koishi, pen at the ready.

‘oh, grandad took me to all sorts of places. i have no idea where it might have been.’

‘not even the region?’

asuka silently shook her head. ‘grandad’s been suffering from dementia for the past three years

. . . it was all so sudden. i never got round to asking him about the trips we went on.’

‘i see. i’m afraid this isn’t much to go on . . . there must be thousands and thousands of

restaurants serving napolitan spaghetti in japan,’ said koishi, sighing and looking up at the

ceiling.

‘i’m sorry,’ said asuka, shyly bowing her head. ‘i was only five at the time, you see . . .’

‘how about trying to recall what kind of trip it was? there must be something you remember –

how you got around, for example. or maybe something you saw?’ koishi spoke as though

addressing a child.

‘we stayed in a hotel near the sea,’ said asuka, her eyes squeezing shut with the effort of

remembering.

‘near the sea . . . anything else?’ asked koishi, her pen hovering above the page.

‘the next day, we took a boat. actually, i think we drove onto it in a car,’ said asuka, her eyes

gleaming.

‘a ferry, then,’ said koishi, underlining something she’d written.

‘the weird thing is, i’m pretty sure we took the bullet train home,’ said asuka, a doubtful

expression crossing her face. ‘that’s the one part i remember clearly – taking the bullet train back

to hamamatsu.’

‘could you have just rented a car somewhere along the way? my dad always does that.’

‘yes, that’s probably it,’ nodded asuka assertively. ‘i don’t think it was my grandad’s car,

anyway.’

‘what about this hotel near the sea, then? what sort of place was it?’

‘hmm . . .’ asuka seemed to be trying desperately to make sense of her scattered memories.

‘how long were you on the ferry?’ said koishi, changing tack.

‘i feel like it was quite a short trip. an hour or two, maybe?’

‘short ferry trip . . .’ said koishi, scribbling away again.

‘and before we got to the hotel . . . i remember there were all these bright lights,’ said asuka,

half lost in contemplation as she pieced together her thoughts.

‘ah. some kind of display, maybe?’ said koishi, leaning forward excitedly. but asuka just

tilted her head doubtfully.

‘let’s leave the trip to one side for a moment, and talk about this spaghetti. now, do you

remember what the restaurant was like? or how it tasted?’

‘well, like i said, it was napolitan-style spaghetti. with a ketchup-based sauce. and sliced

frankfurters.’

‘just your standard napolitan spaghetti, then,’ murmured koishi, crestfallen.

‘wait. it was yellow!’ cried asuka, slapping her thigh.

‘yellow? but isn’t napolitan sauce normally red?’

‘i think it was a mix of yellow and red . . .’ asuka stared up at a point on the ceiling, slowly

tugging on the threads of her memory.

‘never heard of anything like that . . .’ said koishi doubtfully, as she began sketching an

illustration in the notebook.

‘maybe i’m remembering it wrong,’ said asuka, her voice dropping as she seemed to lose

confidence.

‘what about the restaurant itself – do you remember where it was? what it was called, or what

sort of place it was? i guess that’s asking a lot of a five-year-old . . .’ even as she posed her

questions, koishi sounded like she’d half given up.

‘we got to the station, then grandad took me by the hand. i think we walked for quite a while.’

asuka seemed to be recalling the warmth of chichiro’s hand.

‘walked for a while from the station. right. and did you walk back there after the meal?’ asked

koishi, gripping her pen.

‘we had the spaghetti, then got on the bullet train and went home. i think i was crying all the

way.’

‘tired, were you?’ asked koishi with a grin.

‘i think so. but more than that, it was the spaghetti. it was just so . . . delicious, you see . . .’

‘ah, of course. you start crying whenever you eat something tasty.’

‘i think it was that spaghetti that started it, actually.’ a faraway look had come over asuka’s

face. ‘i think that’s all i can remember . . . oh, i think i burned my mouth. that, and . . . a big red

bottle, which grandad took a photo of.’

koishi jotted down everything asuka had mumbled, then looked up at her. ‘if your grandfather

took photos on the trip, why don’t you just look at them? have you tried digging them out?’

‘one of the first signs of grandad’s dementia was that he started throwing things away at

random. you know – his bankbook, his registered seal, even wads of cash. shoved them all in a

bin bag and chucked them out with the rubbish. his photos were in there, too . . .’ asuka’s voice

had dropped to a murmur.

‘i’m sorry to hear that.’

‘he used to live with me and my parents, but then he started throwing away all sorts of

important things. that’s why he’s been in a home for the past couple of years.’

asuka thought back to the happy days the four of them had shared. her grandfather had been

the type of drinker who got merrier and merrier the more he drank. before he went to bed, he’d

always give her a gentle pat or two on the head.

‘i guess if the photos were still around you wouldn’t have needed our help. well, we’ll just have

to try. i reckon dad’ll track this spaghetti of yours down somehow – he always does!’ koishi

closed her notebook.

‘thank you for your help,’ said asuka, sitting up and then bowing deeply.

‘tell me – what made you curious about this spaghetti all of a sudden?’

‘well, firstly, i want to eat it again. but more importantly, i want my grandad to eat it. if i can, i

want to take him back to the same restaurant.’

‘right.’

‘but he barely even knows who i am these days,’ said asuka, her gaze dropping to the table.

‘we’ll just have to serve him some of that spaghetti then, won’t we! leave it to us, okay?’ said

koishi, putting a hand to her chest.

‘did you find out what she’s after, then?’ asked nagare, folding up the newspaper that he’d been

reading at the counter.

‘i’m afraid my memory is a bit useless,’ cut in asuka.

‘napolitan spaghetti,’ said koishi. ‘one of your specialities, isn’t it, dad?’

‘i’m guessing my own recipe won’t quite hit the spot?’ asked nagare with a grin.

‘oh, as long as it’s tasty, i won’t mind,’ said asuka, returning his smile.

nagare turned to koishi. ‘did you make arrangements for her next visit?’

‘oops – slipped my mind completely. how’s two weeks today?’

‘that’s fine,’ nodded asuka, as she made her way out of the restaurant.

‘staying the night in kyoto, are you?’ asked nagare, eyeing the large bag that asuka had

shouldered.

‘i was planning to, but it’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow too. i think i’ll just head back to

hamamatsu.’

‘kyoto can be nice in the rain, you know,’ said nagare, looking up at the dark grey sky.

‘i’ll save it for next time,’ smiled asuka.

‘we’ll do our absolute best to find this dish of yours,’ said nagare, fixing asuka with his gaze.

‘i’ll be looking forward to it!’

asuka bowed and walked off in the direction of higashi honganji. after seeing her off, nagare

and koishi headed back inside the restaurant.

‘these rainy days just keep coming, don’t they? getting a little sick of them, to be honest,’ said

nagare, sitting down on one of the red chairs.

‘i wonder if this’ll be enough for you to go on . . .’ said koishi, sitting down beside him and

opening up her notebook.

‘won’t know until we try, will we?’ said nagare, getting out his reading glasses and scanning

through her notes.

‘it’s all so vague!’ said koishi, looking over his shoulder. ‘i mean, you can get napolitan

spaghetti pretty much anywhere . . .’

‘a hotel near the sea, and a ferry, eh?’ said nagare as he thumbed through the pages. then, in a

quiet murmur: ‘and what’s this? bright lights. hmm . . .’

‘i guess this one’s going to be a bit of a stretch, even for you, dad. i mean—’

‘i’ll set off tomorrow,’ interrupted nagare.

‘what? you mean you already know where you’re going?’ asked koishi in an excited voice.

‘i have a pretty good idea what sort of trip they went on. but i’m not so sure about this

restaurant she mentioned . . .’ said nagare, folding his arms.

‘oh. for a moment, i thought you’d cracked it already . . .’ said koishi, her disappointment

showing in her voice.