Look at me! I'm a narcissist!

I was originally going to write a post about writing a travel blog whilst maintaining emotional and thematic depth, and not merely descending into a list of "things I did", a la the Newfoundland posts (which I still haven't finished for precisely that reason). I still intend on writing that post.

But for now, fuck that.

'Cause food.

Specifically, I'll be talking about the food that I've cooked or otherwise prepared at home, and not restaurant food or pre-packaged combini food. Since I have been in Japan for nearly a month, I'm sure you'll find it no shock that I've prepared a full three distinct dishes at home. The first, shown above, is my typical breakfast: a bowl of cereal with milk, yogurt, and fruit. I did pull one variation on this formula: once, when I forgot to buy milk, I went to a nearby vending machine and bought chilled cafe au lait ('cause you can do that here) and used it as my milk substitute. I leave it up to you to decide how it went.

Next, of course, is spaghetti and meat sauce, here shown in the process of becoming awesome. It took a shockingly long time for me to even buy cokware, let alone start cooking. Part of the problem was that my apartment came furnished with and induction stove. The principle behind these stoves is pretty interesting, at least for people with a physics background. Basically, the stove consists of a wire coil, through which flows a very rapidly oscillating current. This current, in turn, creates an oscillating magnetic field. This oscillating magnetic field, in turn, creates rapid vibrations in any magnetic object, like a pan or pot, placed above the coil. These vibrations then cause said magnetic object to heat up. The result is that the cooking vessel itself if heated without any heating of the stove surface.

Which is all well and good until you try to use it on a non-magnetic pan. Then it's fucking garbage.

Yes, of course, I bought the wrong pan. But not before I bought a whole bunch of meat to cook on that pan. And of course, I only realize its the wrong pan after I lose the damn receipt! Which is not to say that I'd wanna try returning a product with my Japanese as it is. . .

Anyway, it all got fixed, I have a ferromagnetic pot and pan, and now I'm cooking. . . occasionally. This lovely dish consists of a Neapolitan sauce with minced beef, fried onions, and few drops of extra virgin olive oil, 7-Eleven brand parmesan (I know. . .), served atop spaghetti noodles. For my next attempt, I'll try adding eggplant and garlic, assuming I can even find garlic in this backward godforsaken--

Ooh! Bacon!

That's right! Two slightly overcooked land-of-the-rising-sunny-side up eggs with three slices of bacon and Hokkaido-buttered toast. And the best part? I cooked this an hour ago! Now breakfast's for dinner!

(I now calmly await the arrival of a brutish man, brandishing his own belt as a weapon, who will sternly inform me that breakfast is, in fact, not for dinner).