25

Being A Broad July 2008

BAB

have never had a prouder moment during my

 Japan years than recently, when a select few

were invited round to see the new addition to

our coupledom. TJ and I had of course revelled

in excitement about how our lives would change

for some time now. How the spontaneous

excitement of dashing out for late-night fodder

would have passed, how we would need to plan a

weekly shop together. Oh, the smugness in how

we’d grown.

Everyone gathered around and with decent

manners they cooed, they ahhed. We tried not

to show-off, so in mock embarrassment we joked

how small she was (but we loved her anyway).

Our guests said ‘don’t be silly’. They were clearly

 jealous and most probably bored.

We gathered around her in the kitchen,

the christening about to begin. TJ reached over

to crank her up and a second later our little

oven was alive. She was breathing, clicking and

emanating gas. We were cooking.

In Tokyo, rents don’t come cheap. Apartments

with more than two measly little hobs are so far up

the accommodation ladder it had taken the best

part of a year and a couple of job promotions for

our hard work to warrant this new, almost lavish

living. We told friends and family back home of 

our upgraded lifestyle. “We have an oven!” TJ told

his mum, “we have a carpet!” I told mine, “we can

see trees outside our windows!” we told all who

would listen. Everyone from old school friends to

the window cleaner thought times in Tokyo must

really have been tough.

After two weeks of us sprinting to the

kitchen, yelling over our shoulder to the fake

defeated, “Let me cook for you baby, this meal’s

on me,” the strain in the relationship begins to

show. One day TJ told me that I just didn’t make

lasagna like his mother could.

The words cut like a knife but still it wasn’t

a total surprise. In this modern world of Gordon

Ramsay, Jamie Oliver, and Anthony Bourdain

who have been marching the ‘testoromnes’ back 

into the kitchen with gleaming knives and too

much attitude, the news has been out there for

sometime: Women Don’t Cook These Days.

I tried to remember the last time I cooked

and back there in my days as a singleton, I nd

a vague memory of serving an ‘English’ meal to

  Japanese boy-interest from long ago. He was

sitting on the oor of my small tatami room as I

pulled a bowl of bubbling baked beans from the

microwave, which balanced precariously on the

top of my second-hand refrigerator. “Here,” I said,

sloshing the red goo onto a slice of convenience

store bread, “this is what English girls cook.”

I don’t recall seeing him again but at some

point in the ensuing years I had concluded that

unlike his Japanese counterparts, a modern day,

equality–supporting English gentleman would

never expect their girlfriend to cook like their

mothers used to.

I was wrong. Men love women who cook, but

a modern man has to be better at it.

And in the kitchen that oven sits there. TJ

develops a relationship with her that only a man

and a piece of machinery could. He explores

her cooking abilities whilst revelling in his own

culinary mastery. Hearty lamb shoulders and

roast potatoes are paraded from the kitchen

while I feel awkward and forgotten. In secret, I

read Delia Smith, wondering if she can deliver

me some kitchen-maiden sex appeal, but it seems

ownership of the kitchen has been lost. Let the

battle of the bathroom begin, no man, no matter

how modern, will conquer that one.

In secret, I read Delia Smith, wondering if she can deliverme some kitchen-maiden sex appeal, but it seems ownershipof the kitchen has been lost.

And in the kitchen that oven sits there. TJdevelops a relationship with her that only aman and a piece of machinery could.

Brunch - Sat & Sun - 9 AM to 4 PM

Lunch - Mon thru Fri - 11 AM to 4 PM

Dinner - Every day - 6 PM (last order at 10 PM)

Open late everyday!

Phone - 03-3505-4490

URL - http://www.sujis.net 

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KITCHENWARS

by Marie Teather

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An oven means luxury in a Tokyo apartment.