Tongue-tied in Tokyo

It's been two months since our return to Tokyo. Although we've been very busy adjusting to Tokyo life again (starting school, starting Japanese class, reconnecting with friends, spending yen, grocery shopping everyday, figuring out train maps, trying to find a restaurant that might serve the American Thanksgiving dinner--by the way, there are 80,000 food venues in Tokyo), we have experienced some very exciting events too:

In late August, we watched a spectacular fireworks display--10,000 fireworks with about the same number of spectators. http://www.tourism.metro.tokyo.jp/english/index.html

In September, my courageous husband, a few of his brave colleagues and our motivated 12-year-old son climbed Mt. Fuji in the sleet and rain and cold. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Fuji

In late September, I put on my hiking boots and participated in my own grueling ascent. I climbed Mt. Toei Oedo. This is actually not a mountain. It's a subway line that's 48 meters below ground. Believe me, after struggling up several flights of stairs and escalators to get from the center of the earth to fresh air, you are definitely ready for a bowl of ramen and a hot coffee. I keep hoping to buy a souvenir walking stick as a proof of my endurance.

And then, last Thursday night, well, we received a very memorable "gift" from one of our favorite local restaurants. And, to make a long story even longer, here's the story and I'm sticking to it.....

Think. Think. Think.
Quickly, I tried to think of some of the other gifts my husband and I have received from other Japanese shopkeepers over the last two years.

I looked at the wrapped package once again.
Definitely too heavy to be dishware. Probably not a Snoopy mug.
Definitely too big to be any kind of accessory. Probably not a cell phone strap.
Definitely too bulky to be a promotional giveaway. Probably not a point card.
Definitely too lumpy to be a decoration. Probably not a Pet Hotel calendar.
Could it be a bag of potatoes? Maybe it’s a pumpkin?

Think. Think. Think. What could it be?

“Gift. For you,” the Japanese chef said in English as he presented the package to us. He appeared to be waiting our reaction. This was one of our favorite local restaurants, so I didn’t want to disappoint him. But, I had no idea what “the gift” was.

Think. Think. Think.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you,” my husband said to the chef. “Arigato gozaimas.”
Clearly my husband had figured it out. “Honey,” he said to me. “Congratulations. You are the recipient of a gift of beef tongue.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beef_tongue

And, for the first time in my life, I was tongue-tied.

Think. Think. Think.
“Maybe,” I said to my husband later that evening as we both stared at the block of beef now sitting on our kitchen counter. “Maybe it’s too special to eat. Maybe I’m supposed to wrap it up in washi paper or something. Or maybe I’m supposed place it on our mantel next to our Hummel.”

“No,” he said. “We definitely need to cook it. And we should find a recipe fast. We probably can’t return to the restaurant until we’ve feasted on tongue. They will definitely want to know if we liked it.”

So, now I’ve got an important mission for this week, actually two. I’ve got until next Saturday night to serve an awesome tongue dinner. And, I have to figure out the custom for beef tongue gift giving. Is it proper etiquette to show up at the restaurant with an equally kind and thoughtful present?

Think. Think. Think.
The chef’s expertise is cooking. He gave us a gift of food.
My forte is writing. I should give him the gift of….hmmm.....

My Beef Tongue Haiku
Oh sweet, beefy t
You are not chicken, nor pork
Oh, my precious tongue
My poetry in a pot
I have got your tongue
But you have my heart, tonight
Be a tasty treat
In my covered kettle
Boil and simmer
Be a slice of goodness, please
And, if not, my sweet
Please, oh, please, pass the sake