After a two-week journey that was like a time trip to the "future of 1000 years" drawn by Miyako, the year 2017 dawned, and the notebook was completed after almost three months of work.

When I took a time to read through my notebooks of my past 20 years, I found that it was not so much of what I was doing, but it was mostly of how I was feeling at that time. I noticed that each year was filled with many people's names. Friends and family, loved ones, peers, people I dearly respect, cute junior colleagues, those close and those not-so-close,

All happy and sad things (That's how I perceived them at the time) were precious events that were brought to me by the people who came into my life.

"Oh, I have received so much (this is probably called, Love) from so many people in the first half of my life.”

I received 20 years worth of love and the word "gratitude" filled quietly my belly with warmth.

“Now, how do I want to be for the rest of my life”

It’s not about what I want to do, but how I want to be.

I tried to imagine the next 30 years, holding in my heart the feelings I received from my past 20 years.

What came naturally to me was a thought, "I want to be a person who can hand over something to others.”

(that something, most probably, is Love.)
So far, I've almost always received and I'm sure I'll continue to receive more in the future, but a strong will was born inside of me that said, "From now on, I want to be a person who could hand over a little something (=Love)”.

Something, that is made with my own hands, something that would carry love through my hands, and something that one could "eat" that would directly touch their heart.

That blissful energy that filled the night of the new moon on Molokai came back to me.

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photo by yu nakamura

リンリエ

One day, I filled a small pot with water, got some vegetables that I had picked from the field, and left them on the stove. The vegetables turned bright green, then became soft and pliable. The vegetables would turn bright green, then soften and become soft and crispy. After watching this, I would take a nap and wake up to find that my great-grandmother had turned them into miso soup, which was on the table that day. I looked at their faces and said, "That miso soup Nozomi made is delicious. It made me happy to see their faces, and something started to move inside of me to know that something edible was really connected to the extension of our usual play. I didn't understand that word when I was a child, but looking back now, I think it was the first time I felt something close to "excitement".

On another day, I received a tangerine, squeezed it with my hands, squashed it, strain it with a toy colander, and put it in a toy cup. Then I handed it to my great-grandmother as if I were playing house with her and said, "Here you go. My great-grandmother then drank the tangerine juice from the toy cup. I panicked and shouted, "Why did you drink it? I shouted, "Because it's real tangerine juice. My great-grandmother said with a cool face. I said, "I should have washed my hands properly. I wondered if the cups and colanders were clean. I wondered if the cups and colanders were clean, and I wondered what would happen if my beloved great-grandmother got a stomachache and died. "What if my beloved great-grandmother got a stomachache and died?

From that day on, I seriously thought that my great-grandmother might once again take a mouthful of toy dishes, not knowing that it was a trick, and I tried to keep my hands and toy dishes clean. My great-grandmother's behavior at that time taught me to know how to cook. Even though I was very young, I painfully experienced at that time that the lives of our loved ones are involved in what goes into our bodies. I could not read yet, but it was an important lesson that I learned from experience, not from a textbook. Even now, when I think back to that time, I feel tense and at the same time, I thank God that no one got sick from the first dish I cooked.

After that, I was actually given a step stool in the kitchen to cook eggs and shave bonito flakes for dashi, but it did not go as well as I could have done in my imaginary world. My great-grandmother's egg rolls were beautiful yellow and fluffy, and they were always delicious. I tried my hand at it, but my omelet was half the thickness of my great-grandmother's, hard and brownish. It made me want to cry. My great-grandparents ate my failed omelet, saying it was delicious. Even my great-grandfather, who was usually quiet, smiled and said it was delicious, but I was sad. But I was sad, because I wanted the people I loved to eat really good food. I decided to become a cooking teacher that day, when I was three years old.

After that, my great-grandmother suffered from dementia, and for the next eleven years, she forgot things she had done before and acted strangely, but there were many moments when I could feel the history of her careful life, and each time I was reminded of the great-grandmother I had spent time with as a child. She was someone I could respect both as a person and as a woman.

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My grandmother was also a very good cook. And her food was beautiful.

She taught me the basics of cooking: how important it is to prepare and prepare food in order to make it fragrant, delicious, and beautiful. I learned the basics of cooking from my grandmother. She was my teacher on how to cut vegetables, when to boil vegetables, how to adjust the heat, and how to prepare fish. She also taught me how to choose and arrange dishes with a sense of beauty that went into every detail. My grandmother, who was usually gentle and a bit unworldly, was known as "Grandma," but when she stood in the kitchen, she looked dignified and reliable.

When I told my mother that I wanted to become a cooking teacher, she would take me out of school to accompany her to Kyoto to buy kimono, and she would even rent out a room in a ryotei restaurant as a study session so that we could enjoy kaiseki cuisine. I prepared a notepad and took notes on the order of the dishes, the ingredients, and how they tasted, then went home and made my own prototypes and recipes. I continued to do this until I graduated from high school. It was also my mother who taught me various genres of cooking, such as Italian and French-Chinese. My mother was very good at entertaining the people she cared about. She would take time out of her busy work schedule to make sweets with us, invite her friends to birthday parties with homemade food, and prepare children's tea sets and dishes to be used only on those days. It was like a tea party in a picture book and I was excited.

Twenty-three years later, after deciding that I wanted to be a cooking teacher, I really became one.

Now, in addition to teaching cooking, I have turned my great-grandfather's house, where I first stood in the kitchen, into an old house studio where I do photography and create recipes for media and magazines.

Through the kitchen, I have learned and inherited important things from the women who lived in each era.

From my great-grandmother who was born in the Meiji era, I learned the responsibility and attitude of taking care of the lives of loved ones.

My grandmother, who was born in the Taisho era, taught me the importance of hospitality and the five senses.

From my mother, who lived in the post-war Showa era, I learned a broad view of the world and the power to entertain and make my loved ones smile.

And now, when I am asked again, "What is cooking for me? And now, when I am asked again, "What is cooking to me?

For me, cooking is a "prayer" with the thought, "You are an important person.

I make breakfast with the thought, "May today be another good day.

It may not be all fun and games for the family on the way out of the house, but when I open the lid of the empty lunch box, I feel relieved. It's a message of protection that says, "I'm always watching over you! It is also a message of protection. When I get home, I can't help but think, "It smells so good! I'm hungry! What's for dinner tonight? When I hear "I'm home," I am thankful that my children have made it through another day and have come home.

My "kitchen" and my "cooking" go hand in hand with such "prayers.