The rules of fish...

We've had futons and dishes, now I know you're just gagging for a new addition to this horrible series.

I really thought my learning days were over, I mean, I've done the 2 years of apprentice wifeyness with gaijin handicap thrown in and all, it was in the bag... I've done the bento, aired the futons and even met Grandma's strict rubbish sorting criteria, I was actually feeling quite smug with my white arse...

But noooooo. There has been... A fish incident!

I find one of the most tedious and boring and just genreally shitty tasks of the common housewife in Japan is planning the menu. There's no just 'throw somehing together from the freezer options because quite frankly my freezer is smaller than my undie drawer. So there is the fucking awful brain strain of thinknig and planning and buying all the shite you need for dinner that day. Now sometimes, I'm struck with inspiration and it's all good, but there are days when I just can't be arsed thinking or everything I think of will taste like dogs balls warmed up. Now before I started working I had to suck it up and just do it, but this lovely working lark means I have wayyyy more bitching room to move when it comes to Ryo-chan. So a few days a week I will accost Ryota as he's going out the door with the false pretense of giving him a kiss (he alswys knows something's up) and make him tell me what he wants for dinner. 90% of the time he will say "Udon ii yo" which is lovely, udon is well easy to do, but sometimes he will actually take a few seconds and all of his man brain power and tell me what he wants.

So the other day, he wanted J-style dinner: Fish, rice, miso soup, natto, salad and some other side dish which I would inevitably buy from the supermarket then put in a fancy dish and rip off as my own. I actually like the J-style nights, the cooking time is usually very little and most things can be prepared beforehand. Sweet! Nice Japanese healthy crap it is sweetheart! Itterashai! But there was a condition...

When it comes to fish, I'm a buri girl, it's white and boneless and doesn't smell too fishy. But Ryota threw me a curve ball and added that he wanted Saba. Saba is more fishy and more boney but doesn't taste too bad. So off I toddled and got my saba and other crap I needed. I prepared everything and as he walked in the door was about to do my fish so he could get a shower and have his dinner on the table when he got out.(huuuuge wifey points there!)Then I was struck with the dilemma of how to cook the bastard, so I resorted to my old faithful- teriyaki. Can't really go wrong with the sticky, sweet, salty combo of soy sauce and sugar, so I teriyaki-ed the little saba bits and arranged them perfectly on the little plate along with it's huge extended family of plates around it.

And you know what the bastard did when he saw the spread? He laughed the at my little saba!!! Arsehole! Dickhead! Wankerrrrrrr! He then explained that no Japanese wife would EVER teriyaki saba, it just isn't done! Saba is ALWAYS grilled with salt. Well exxxcccuuuuuussse fucking me but if I can choose between dry, hard, salty fish and sweet, soft, moist fish, I know which one I'm going with! Grandma also came over at some point during the night, saw the lonely little uneaten saba and examined it closely chuckling at the notion of teriyaki saba. It was a big joke for all the in-laws, meanwhile I was just pissed and vowed to never cook again!

Wasn't actually that pissed, I ate all mine and it was pretty damn tasty. Just another example of the J-way being the only way, no deviating from the norm, even when it comes to something as seemingly creative as cooking!