Our fourth of July in Japan

- by Seth 1998

We decided that tonight, of all nights, we should be patriotic and go to someplace truly American for dinner.  McDonald’s and Wendy’s were possibilities, but we thought we would go for the deluxe meal and dine luxiouriously at the Denny’s we had spotted about a 10 minute walk away.  My memories of Denny’s are linked permanently with some location in the States.  The city’s name has fallen from my memory, but not the Moons of Mihammy sandwiches the road team used to get for breakfast whenever we were in that hotel.  I remember it was during the winter, so it was always cold and dark outside.  Most people were in for a good cup of coffee at that time in the morning.  Office workers or blue collar people stopping for a bite.  We would go in and get a full meal - it was one of the luxuries of being on the road.  Working 15 hours a day and then travelling meant that the food and abusing the rental cars were about the only true perks we had.

So my memory of the Moons over My Hammy sandwich is a large slab of ham and cheese slopped on grilled bread.  No mamby pamby artichoke heart salad, this. It dripped grease.  The cholesterol count was enough to make even the healthiest distance runner’s heart stop a beat or two.  But in it’s forbidden-nes, it was wonderfully good.  A heavy, wholesome, American midwestern glob of home cooking.  No possibility of being hungry after finishing off something with the calorie count of what the relief efforts around the world provide to several small countries in a day.  Then add the home fries, some bacon and some caffeine and you’d have a real breakfast.  True, it wasn’t the barnyard buster special at TJ Country Place, but it ran a close second.

Walking to the restaurant, we passed many impeccably dressed Japanese in their mid to late 20’s out for a night in the fashionable district.  Most of the french café’s were at least half full and Monsoon’s, the Thai place with multilevel seating outdoors was just packed.  Tara was in her t-shirt and shorts and I was in a collared shirt with docker shorts and dock shoes on.  I don’t know if we could have advertised that we were American any more than that.  So after the long walk, we finally arrived at the yellow sign.  Ahhhhhh, a taste of home.  Odd, it looks like there are actually people waiting for seats.  Sure enough, about 14 young japanese were waiting for seats.  We gave a name in Japanese that the extremely polite hostess could understand and waited, reading the sign in English and Japanese that was at the door.  Rules included: 1) No talking on mobile phones at the tables; 2) No changing seats and 3) No sleeping.  OK, understandable for a 24 hour restaraunt.  So in just 5 minutes, we were shown our seats.  Our spotless seats.  In fact our spotless table.  In typical Japanese fashion, it looked like the entire restaurant had just been disinfected and then cleaned by a swarm of cleaning pixies.

But then came the menus.  The grand menu was very deluxe, with a clear high-end cover and full color pictures inside.  Both English and Japanese were printed inside.  Hmmmm, we’ve got corn soup here, and prawn salads, but where are the cheese sticks?  Hmmm, the hamburgers have no buns.  And of course, the traditional Denny’s special - pork curry.  I glanced though once.  I looked through again.  Alas and woe is me - no Moons of My Hammy were here.  The closest I could come was a club sandwich.  But where was all the grease?  Where the fat?  Where the bloated feeling?  So I did my best.  I had corn soup - it has that no-saccarrin or artificial sweetners added type of taste.  Very good.  And then came the club sandwich and fries.   Again, those Japanese were at it again.  The bread was actually fresh, and the food was warm?  The fries were fried just right.  Tara got the French Toast just because she was trying for something American, and the French, yes, French toast was about as close as she could come.  But then again, she didn’t really care.  They had several watermelon drinks and desserts, so the rest of the meal might have just as well been non-existent.  As long as there is watermelon at a meal, Tara is in heaven.  So watermelon juice accompanied her French Toast.  After finishing off the perfectly cooked meal, we looked around as we waited for dessert (watermelon sundae for Tara, Brownie sundae for me).  The rules began to make a bit of sense now.  Apparently, you make a bit of a night of it at Denny’s for a Saturday night.  No one around us had moved.  The couple to the right of me had been done with their meal before we got there and he had kicked off his shoes as both of them sat there reading.  She a book and he a magazine.  The six ladies on the other side looked like they were camped there for the weekend.  Must be quite the place to be on a Saturday night in Tokyo.

So at least our sundays were slightly different.  At the middle of them, they had something that seemed a cross between gelatin and tofu.  Tara was brave and had hers.  For one of the first times in my life, an ice cream Sunday went only half eaten.  And as we payed our bill for 37,000 yen (about 32 dollars at the moment), we wished each other a happy 4th of July and walked home, no fireworks to be seen.