Elizabeth Andoh - Kibo: Stories and Recipes from Japan’s Tohoku

As a writer, I struggle with languagevocabulary and grammar, especially syntax. Much of my energy is spent balancing nuance of meaning and determining the best, most logical order in which to present and develop certain ideas. In my work, I must accommodate two languages that are wildly different from each other in verbal structure and written form: English and Japanese. An already challenging situation is made more difficult still because there is no single standard for transliteration. Academia, government circles, publishers, and print media all differ. Inconsistency is rampant.

Over the years, with abundant feedback from readers and volunteers who assist me in testing recipes, I have developed my own system to assist those familiar with English in pronouncing (unfamiliar) Japanese words. With each book I write, I review and revise. After all, language is a dynamic aspect of culture, constantly changing.

In this book, Kib, I continue to use accent marks. The one that appears over the o in kib is called a macron, or long mark. It represents an extended vowel sound (for which there is no English equivalent) that appears in some, but not all, Japanese words transliterated with the letter o. A macron is used to spell tfu, for example, but not miso.

I borrow the French accent mark for some e sounds because I want you to pronounce those ay. Ag is pronounced ah-gay, (g sounds are always hard, like good or great; soft g sounds are written with a j). Aburaag is fried tfu (and has nothing to do with age in the sense of a life span).

Next challenge: what should a particular ingredient, technique, or recipe be called? Use Japanese? Or English? I often find the need to combine the two. Shiso leaves and firm tfu are good examples of this. In the first instance, Japanese modifies English; in the latter example, it is reversed.

When there is a single, obvious, uncontested, accurate (or fairly accurate) English name for something, I have used that word: soy sauce, not shyu, for example. However, nothing is quite that simple. I find usukuchi shyu, the Japanese name for a pale-in-appearance-soy-sauce, a better choice than light-colored soy sauce to avoid mistaking this sauce for a lite seasoning. Usukuchi shyu is full strength in flavor and sodium, though it does not stain foods the way regular soy sauce does.

Though I continue to strive for accuracy and ease in identification, the choices I make are admittedly arbitrary. There may be some baffling inconsistencies. If you are having trouble locating an item, try a reverse language search. Go meiwaku wo okakshimasu ga Please, accept my sincere apologies for any inconvenience this may cause.

Yet another challenge: romanizing names of Japanese historical figures. Normally in Japan, the family name (surname) is first, followed by the given name. In that style, I am Andoh Elizabeth (not Elizabeth Andoh). Japanese historical personages who appear in English language texts are typically listed Japanese-style. I have followed suit with (seventeenth-century poet).

Kib is a collaborative work. I have beenand continue to bethe grateful recipient of advice, expertise, and assistance from a widely talented support group. I thank each and every one of the people listed below for their steadfast efforts. Oswa ni narimasu (I am in your debt). Indeed, I could never have done this without your individual and collective talents!

AT TEN SPEED PRESS AND RANDOM HOUSE:

My Kib team is large: an Advisory Council of dozens of volunteer recipe testers recruited through my newsletter and a smaller group that I have dubbed my Inner Circle who helped me vet and resolve a host of problems that arose along the waytaming wildcard recipes that stubbornly refused to yield consistent results, managing daunting administrative tasks (distributing, tracking, and collating assignments made to globally scattered council members), and affably acting as sounding board as I agonized, revised, and endlessly tweaked away. Thank you for staying the rough course with me.

A special note of thanks goes to Morrison Foerster, especially Michael A. Doherty (Partner, New York), Eric N. Roose (Partner, Tokyo), Michael H. Shikuma (Of Counsel, Tokyo), and Takeo Mizutani (Japanese Zeirishi [registered tax specialist], Tokyo) for patiently, professionally guiding me through the process of understanding, and then implementing, a charitable giving program.

Finally, no list of acknowledgments would be complete without including those who have provided me over the years with instruction and inspiration: