Swooshing through a spa in high-tech Tokyo

TOKYO -- Spa LaQua is a contemporary take on one of Japan's national treasures: the "onsen," natural hot springs that bubble up from deep inside the earth. Such resorts are a popular destination for Japanese and are found from north to south on the archipelago.

Spa LaQua's saltwater springs come from about 5,500 feet below and contain minerals said to be good for your skin, arthritis, and muscle fatigue. Located in the happening Tokyo Dome complex, Spa LaQua (pronounced la-koo-wa) takes up several of the top floors.

As I enter the spa, I place my shoes in a cubby. At the reception desk I am issued a Lucite bar and a wristlet with a digital code. I'll use this for any purchases or treatments, including massages, food, and drink. It is also my locker number. This cashless system makes it easy to spend money -- one pays on the way out.

As I enter the dressing rooms I have a choice of three types of stylish spa-issued jammies and get a net bag with towels. (At a traditional onsen , guests receive a cotton kimono called a "yukata.") I wave my wrist in front of the locker scanner and it opens. Then all I have to do is leave my clothes and inhibitions behind.

The locker rooms and bath areas are segregated by sex. Bathing in an onsen or public bath is a communal affair. Although everyone is naked it is very modest. All I am wearing now is my wristband. I bring that rectangular piece of white cloth they call a towel with me as I take to the waters.

Knowing the proper etiquette for bathing in Japan will put you and your fellow bathers at ease. I overheard one group of foreign guests say they had brought their bathing suits because they didn't know what to expect. You will be more conspicuous if you are wearing your bathing suit instead of your birthday suit. Their suits were left in the lockers.

That little towel is important. First, you can drape it modestly in front of you. Second, it is used for washing, which is what patrons do before they go near the deliciously warm pools of water. I walk through the doors into a huge area of knee-high three-walled cubicles. Each has a spigot, bucket, soap, shampoo, and conditioner. I scrub and rinse until clean. In the women's area there is usually lots of chatter. After washing I have several choices. The indoor shallow saltwater pool is pleasantly hot and usually the first stop. Women are submerged to their shoulders. The white towels are now folded in neat little squares and top their heads or wrap their hair.

Now for the dry and wet sauna options. The dry sauna has a huge TV. I was in there when a comedy show was on and everyone was giggling and sweating. Then there is a cold pool to immerse in. My husband told me to just get in and count to 11: I'd either be dead from the shock or have gotten used to it. The wet sauna has a natural amethyst-colored rock spotlighted as vapors swirl about it. In the water massage section bathers sit submerged to their necks and move from station to station, with water jets perfectly positioned to hit targeted body areas.

Then comes the body cleanse treatment , for which you make an appointment using the telephone on the wall. This could be daunting if you don't speak Japanese, but a staff member or a fellow bather will help. There are several rubber-matted tables and some deceptively dainty-looking women waiting to scrub and slough off dead skin. There are several "courses" to choose from. I choose the half-body back scrub for 15 minutes and about $20. I could have sworn the person was wearing gloves made from Brillo pads.
I head out to the "rotemburo," or outdoor pool, enclosed by high fences and greenery. There is a wooden arbor over the stone pools. The cold January air feels good as I sink into the natural pool, look up into the winter night, and see a perfect half moon. Suddenly I hear a rumble of a roller coaster as it ascends just above us. Then the happy, hysterical screams of those crazy riders as it descends. I think, I am in the buff, outside in the center of Tokyo, in the middle of winter, in hot water with a bunch of strangers, with a gazillion tons of metal whooshing above me. Who's nuts?

I head back to the locker room and put on my jammies and pad out in bare feet to meet my husband in the "relax lounge" -- a huge room with dozens of the cushiest recliners. Each chair is equipped with a TV screen and a phone for chair-side service (beginning at 6 p.m.) for beer, sake, lemonade, or a snack. Or you can walk up to the snack bar. Just wave the wristlet and your selection is added to your tab. The freshly squeezed grapefruit juice hit the spot.

It is quiet in the room except for the occasional snore coming from under a blanket. A huge wall of windows looks out onto the roller coaster. After an hour or so we head to a restaurant just down the hall. Dress code: PJs. The choice is between a contemporary Japanese or a Korean BBQ restaurant. We have eaten at the Japanese restaurant several times and have been happy with cold beers, creative salads, and small plates of grilled fish, sashimi, and "yakitori" (grilled chicken on a skewer). There are lots of options and pictures on the menu. I flash my wristlet again. It's addictive.

The spa offers 11 beauty/massage options, including facials, hair and nail salons, foot massage, head massage, Hawaiian and Thai massages, reflexology, and color therapy. Courses range from 20 to 100 minutes. Prices are prominently posted, but a translation may be needed.

I pass the gift shop and purchase candy in a tin box. Swoosh, swipe that band. My husband and I separate for a final soaking. The women's changing room is outfitted with so many amenities I want to try them all. There are rows of counters with mirrors, hair dryers, and every type of face product for free. There are baskets with disposable toothbrushes with the paste already on. Forgot your hairbrush? No problem-- reach for a sanitized brush. There is even a vending machine with personal items like razors and underwear.

When you check out you discover what all that swiping cost. Sticking to just the bath and relax lounge with no extras the fee is about $23. The extras do add up but not prohibitively. One entry fee with a meal and a few beers is about $75.

So if you are heading to a Japanese onsen, the only word you will really need to know is "ahhhhhh."

In the heart of Chicago, hardy food full of comfort

CHICAGO -- On a recent visit to help my son settle into his apartment off Lake Shore Drive, I opened the fridge to look for something for breakfast. Skunked!
On his way out the door to register for classes, he said, "Mom, try Valois on 53d Street . They have the best breakfasts, it's a friendly place, and cheap. Just don't worry about the nutrition thing."
Caffeine deprived, I whined, "How am I going to find it?"
"Just look for the sign that says, 'See your food.' "
Creeping along in a jumbo jet of a rented car, I turned onto a main shopping drag, and just a block later, there it was, Valois Cafeteria See Your Food.

It was warm and bright inside. The smell of coffee was almost as satisfying as a sip. Setting down my coat before I joined the line of hungry patrons, I glanced at the plate of the man sitting at the next table. Was that mashed potatoes, gravy, and scrambled eggs? He noticed me peering at his plate.
I just had to ask, "Excuse me, sir, are those mashed potatoes and gravy on your plate?"
"Yes, ma'am, that's exactly right," he answered in a broad Chicago accent.
"Is that a specialty in Chicago?" I asked.
"Not particularly -- but you can get it anytime you want here. Would you like to join me for breakfast," he said with a smile.
And with that I spent the next hour sharing a meal, talking about family, politics, sports, and, of course, food with John Casillas, a major in the Army Reserve. Casillas, 47, has been coming to Valois (vuh-loyz) for breakfast "almost every day since 1988." That is, when he isn't deployed to Korea, Kuwait, or Iraq.

Sitting down with people you don't know is a tradition at Valois.
The range of outfits in the line of customers included teens in hip-hop gear, professors in tweed, city workers in overalls, and women in fur coats. Everyone dines here. According to Bill Bogris, who works here with his uncle Gus Sellis and co-owner Spiro Argiris, more than 80 percent of the customers are regulars and some eat multiple meals here each day.

There is nothing American about the village of Ahladokambos in Greece, where Sellis and Argiris are from, and nothing Greek about the menu at Valois. But adorning some of the walls are murals of Greece alongside famous places here in Hyde Park .

This is down-home American cooking with heavy Southern touches. For breakfast, there are grits and gravy, eggs every which way, huge raised biscuits, and pancakes the size of the 10-inch plate (three to a serving). You can choose sides from pork patties, links, or bacon -- some customers choose all three. "This is the food your mom made on the weekends for breakfast -- only we have it every day," said Bogris.
The lunch and dinner menu could be a page out of the classic Fanny Farmer cookbook: stews, pot pies, meat loaf -- all comfort food, all the time. "See Your Food" is exactly what you do at this 86-year-old restaurant. The line cooks perform like athletes. The sound of spatula scraping the griddle is a constant. The place is clean; the food is real and real cheap.

My scrambled eggs, grits, links, coffee, and biscuits cost $5.23. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, and broccoli to go cost $5.75. The beef is rare and sliced just before you eat. I asked Bogris how they can serve this food at these prices. "You give people good food at reasonable prices they are going to come back," he said.
A similar dining institution is Carson's Ribs, a famous barbecue restaurant downtown . This is a large place with high ceilings. The walls are covered with photographs of local and national celebrities who come to dine. There is usually a long line and just so you won't die of hunger , there is a big sideboard with baskets of rye breads, crackers, and an enormous mound of chopped liver. There was no line on this evening, but I swiped a smear anyway. It tasted like the real deal.

I was urged to go for the sampler: ribs, pork, and chicken. Everything was moist, delicious, and had been smoked on the premises. There must have been 300 grams of protein on my plate, which was not tarnished with anything green. The meat comes with a side of Carson's famous cole slaw, which is treated like a salad. A waiter offers ground pepper .

The potato offerings are numerous: au gratin, baked, double baked, skins, french fries, french fried sweet potatoes, or a vegetable. The baked potato was so big it made me wonder about the fertilizer. For good measure we got a side of the fried sweet potatoes, which have a light seasoning of sugar and cinnamon. They were unique, crispy, and delicious.

Next to us was a table of men laughing, gnawing ribs, and licking the sauce from their fingers. This is not a delicate dining experience. There was a young Japanese woman, with her shopping bags and guide book , sitting alone. She was making her way through her plate of food in a most decorous manner with a fork and knife -- but she might have been the only one in the place doing so . A group of girlfriends came in, sat down , and immediately began singing and slap-clapping a rhythmic version of "Happy Birthday."
My advice: Do not go to these places with a card-carrying member of the nutrition police. You want to enjoy your demise. Give in, then get out your sneakers, and walk it off.

COOKBOOK REVIEW'Japanese Cooking' is still the master

Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art,
By Shizuo Tsuji, Kodansha International, 507 pp., $45

When "Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art" first came out 25 years ago, sushi was exotic, teriyaki was the sauce, and miso soup was for the macrobiotic crowd. No one who frequented the few Japanese restaurants in American cities could have predicted what would happen in just over two decades.

The late Shizuo Tsuji mastered Japanese cuisine, then French. He started the Tsuji Culinary Institute in Osaka in 1960 to train chefs, and it remains one of the well-respected cooking schools in Japan. He wrote this encyclopedic book to share the "essence and spirit" of his native cuisine. In this 25th anniversary edition, the content is the same as the original. There is a foreword by the late food writer M.F.K. Fisher and a preface by Tsuji, both of which are from the first volume, as well as a new foreword by Gourmet magazine's Ruth Reichl, and a preface by Tsuji's son, Yoshiki.

Yoshiki Tsuji considered an extensive revision of the book, but in the end rejected it, he writes. He still sees this as an "almost perfect Japanese Cooking 101," and he is right. It is to Japanese cooking what "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" is to French cuisine.
"Japanese Cooking" is divided into two parts. The first offers detailed chapters on ingredients, a deconstruction of the Japanese meal, equipment, and techniques. Each cooking method -- among them steaming (mushimono), simmering (nimono), and grilling (yakimono) -- has its own chapter, with a few recipes to illustrate each technique. The explanation on simmering, for instance, discusses the round wood covers that go inside pots to maintain the shape of the food and help the seasonings become absorbed. Tsuji suggests using an aluminum pie plate for this if cooks don't have multiple wooden covers the way Japanese kitchens do.

The second part is divided again by cooking techniques and categories such as noodles, sashimi, and rice dishes, along with recipes that reflect them. In some instances, you need to refer back to the first part of the book, where Tsuji offers exhaustive explanations on how to salt a fish or bone a chicken thigh or make a particular sesame dressing. Line drawings throughout take you, step by step, through unfamiliar territory.

Though not much of what's here is new -- only eight pages of color photographs have been added. What is remarkable is how many of these recipes are now in Americans' everyday lives. Edamame, the fresh soy beans, are a favorite snack. We can find local sushi bars and order uni (sea urchin) and toro (tuna), and the ingredients for seaweed salad are at many supermarkets. Pages of ingredient sources, in fact, listed state by state in the original, don't exist in this new release.
I bought the first "Japanese Cooking," and it anchors a collection that now fills several shelves. Even with many choices, the book still remains my go-to for reference and classic recipes. When Tsuji called his volume "a simple art," you have to realize that a single shrimp floating in a clear fragrant broth, garnished with a sliver of lemon rind, looks easy enough. But the shrimp has been somehow folded onto itself, the clarity of the broth seems unattainable, and coaxing just the right amount of fragrance from the lemon rind is a lesson in restraint.
But we have decades to master all this.

A sweet Portuguese tradition

EAST CAMBRIDGE -- You might walk right past Central Bakery without knowing there's a behemoth workroom just beyond the glass cases in the front. There, year round, bakers churn out Portuguese sweet breads and rolls.

At Easter, the round sweet breads are made with more sugar and more butter and baked with a hard-cooked egg and a decorative braid. Some of these breads are sold at local supermarkets, but the bulk go to hundreds of loyal Portuguese customers who wouldn't think of having Easter without the breads they call "folar " in Portuguese .

"I have a lot of customers who buy several loaves and ship them as gifts all over the country to relatives who have moved away," says co-owner Michael Vital.

Central, which has been in business since 1919, makes over 2,000 loaves with more than 14,000 eggs just for Easter week . Vital was 16 in 1981, when he started working for his father, who owned the bakery. Michael purchased the bakery in 1995 with John Carvalho and Tony Medeiros.

Maria Nunes, who works at Central, sees how excited customers are when they come in for the rounds. "The bread is so good that people are tearing off pieces and eating it in the car, on their way home," she says. Nunes grew up on Saint Michael in the Azores. "My grandmother used to make all of us kids special breads. Mine was in the shape of a doll and the egg was the face. The boys got a heart or round with the egg in the center." The egg is not just for decoration. She explains that people who didn't have enough to eat considered an egg a treat.

As to the significance of the egg, Vital says, "Tradition, I guess."

"Do you know?" he asks Nunes and Jose Vicente, a carpenter doing some renovation for the bakery. Both shrug and offer this: "Tradition!"

Vital speculates that the Rev. Jose S. Ferreira , pastor at Saint Anthony's, might know.

Saint Anthony's, or Igreja de Santo Antonio, is a modern building a block from the bakery. Ferreira, who comes from Vila Verde in the north of Portugal, has been at Saint Anthony's for over 14 years. The meaning of the egg inside the bread, he says, is indeed tradition. "Spring, in nature, is the beginning of new life. Easter is a time of renewal and the Resurrection . The egg is the beginning of life."

With that and good bread in mind, customers crowd Central Bakery this week for loaves. Some contain up to six eggs, and those are surely saved for special meals. For eating in the car on the way home, there are breads with a single egg baked inside.

Better than takeout

A splash of soy sauce, a drizzle of sesame oil, a little rice wine, a smashed clove of garlic, chopped scallions, and a knob of ginger. You have the aromatic elements of a simple Chinese stir-fry. Exotic bottled sauces or even a stop at an Asian grocer aren't essential to make an authentic dish.

Stir-frying has become as much a part of our culinary repertoire as steaming or broiling. Today, many woks share kitchen space with frying pans in cookware departments and on bridal registries. To stir-fry, use any wide implement that you can scoop under food in a hot pan and just keep it moving.

You can make a fine stir-fry with a minimal amount of oil. The most important part of the dish is good preparation. The actual cooking is done in a flash over high heat. Finely chopped garlic, scallion, and ginger go into a small bowl; seasonings such as soy sauce, sugar, and wine go into another.

This is not a chop-as-you-go operation. Cut up all the vegetables and arrange them on a platter next to the seasonings at the stove. Begin with the finely chopped seasonings. Then add the vegetables, in this case cabbage, shiitake mushrooms, celery, red pepper, carrots, and broccoli. Even broccoli stems can go into the dish. Peel them and slice them into 1-inch diagonal chunks for great crunch. If the vegetables are all the same size, they'll cook evenly. Fresh or dried shiitake mushrooms add heft and a musty flavor. In fact, dried mushrooms, reconstituted in hot water, are more flavorful than the fresh and the soaking liquid can be added, too.

When all the vegetables are in the pan, add a small amount of water or stock, cover the mixture, and steam the dish briefly. A dash of sesame oil releases a nutty aroma. Serve with a bowl of white or brown rice.


Recipe
Stir-fried vegetables: Serves 4

1/4 cup water or chicken stock
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons Chinese rice wine
6 button mushrooms, quartered
1 cup bean sprouts
2 teaspoons sesame oil

1. Heat a wok or large frying pan over high heat for 30 seconds. Add the oil and swirl it around pan. Add the garlic, ginger, and scallions. Stir-fry for 30 seconds.
2. Add the cabbage, shiitake mushrooms, celery, red pepper, carrot, and broccoli florets and stems. Stir-fry for 2 minutes.
3. Add the water or stock, soy sauce, sugar, salt, and rice wine. Cover with a lid and cook the vegetables on medium-high heat for 2 minutes more.
4. Uncover the pan. Add the button mushrooms and bean sprouts. Stir-fry the vegetables for 1 minute more. Turn off the heat. Sprinkle with sesame oil. Stir again and serve with rice.