Nabeyaki-Udon
1
Walking away from Higashi Honganji temple, Hideji Kuboyama instinctively1 turned up the collar
on his trench2 coat.
Dead leaves swirled3 in the chilly4 air. That must be the famous Mount Hiei wind, he thought to
himself, knitting his brows as he waited for the signal to change.
It was just like people said: in Kyoto, the cold cuts to the bone. In midwinter, freezing air rushes
down from the mountains that surround the city on three sides. In Kobe, where Hideji had been
born and raised, the winds that blew down from Mount Rokko were formidable too. But here, the
quality of the cold was somehow different. As he made his way down Shomen-dori, he cast his
gaze towards the snow-capped peaks of the Higashiyama mountains in the distance.
Hideji stopped a postman sitting astride a red scooter and asked for directions. ‘Excuse me. I’m
looking for a restaurant round here. The Kamogawa Diner, I think it’s called.’
‘If it’s Mr Kamogawa you’re after, his is the second building after that corner,’ replied the
postman in an extremely matter-of-fact tone, pointing down the right-hand side of the street.
Hideji crossed the street and stood in front of the two-storey structure. It didn’t look much like a
restaurant, though traces of a former sign and a display window remained. Two squares of white
paint had been scruffily5 applied6 to the exterior7 wall. However, it had none of the gloominess of a
vacant building, instead radiating a human warmth that suggested it was still very much a working
restaurant. While its appearance might have been off-putting to the average tourist, the smells
drifting out were enticing8, and from inside came the sound of cheerful banter9.
‘This place has Nagare written all over it,’ muttered Hideji, casting his mind back to the days
he’d spent with Nagare Kamogawa, his former colleague. The two of them had both moved on to
other things now. Despite being Hideji’s junior, Nagare had been the first to quit the police.
He looked up at the restaurant, then opened the sliding aluminium10 door.
‘Welcome to – oh! If it isn’t Hideji!’ Koishi Kamogawa, a round tray in her hands, froze with
surprise. Koishi was Nagare’s only daughter, and Hideji had known her since she was a baby.
‘Koishi! Well, aren’t you all grown up,’ said Hideji, removing his coat.
‘Hideji? Is that you?’ called Nagare as he emerged from the kitchen in his white apron11.
‘So this is your place, after all,’ said Hideji, grinning broadly at Nagare.
‘I can’t believe you found us. Please, take a seat. Sorry the place isn’t much to look at.’ Nagare
wiped down the red cushion of one of the chairs.
‘I guess I haven’t lost my intuition yet,’ said Hideji, blowing into his numb12 hands to warm them
as he sat down.
‘How many years has it been, you reckon?’ asked Nagare as he removed his chef’s hat.
‘I suppose the last time was your wife’s funeral.’
‘You were a real help that day,’ said Nagare, bowing in gratitude13. Koishi followed suit.
‘I don’t suppose you could rustle14 something up for me? I’m ravenous,’ said Hideji, glancing
sideways at a young man who was shovelling15 down a bowl of katsudon.
‘I usually ask first-time customers to leave it up to the chef,’ said Nagare.
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Hideji, meeting Nagare’s gaze.
‘Coming right up, then. Just give me a moment,’ said Nagare, donning his hat again as he
turned away.
‘Oh – and no mackerel, please!’ said Hideji, before taking a sip16 of his tea.
‘Don’t worry – I remember. We’ve known each other long enough!’ replied Nagare over his
shoulder.
Hideji looked around the restaurant. Apart from the young man, the five counter seats by the
kitchen were unoccupied. There was no one else sitting at the four tables either, and nothing
resembling a menu in sight. The clock on the wall showed ten past one.
‘Koishi, can I get some tea?’ said the man eating katsudon, setting his now-empty bowl down
on the counter.
‘You shouldn’t wolf your food down like that, Hiroshi. It’s bad for your digestion,’ said Koishi,
pouring tea from a small Kiyomizu-ware teapot. Meanwhile, Nagare brought out Hideji’s food on
a tray.
‘Looks like quite the feast!’ said Hideji, his eyes widening.
‘Not really. They call it “Kyoto comfort food” these days, but in the past no one would have
dreamed of charging people money for simple fare like this. Still, I thought it might be the sort of
thing you’d enjoy.’ Nagare was unloading various dishes and small bowls from the tray, arranging
them one by one on the table.
‘You’re not wrong. Looks like your intuition hasn’t faded either.’
As Hideji’s gaze skipped between the various dishes, Nagare went on:
‘Stewed arame and deep-fried tofu. Okara croquettes. Kikuna leaves dressed with sesame and
miso. Kurama-style sardine18. Hirosu tofu ball in broth19. Pork belly20 simmered in Kyobancha tea.
Fresh tofu curd22 with sour plum paste. Oh, and Koishi’s rice-bran-pickled cucumbers. Nothing too
extravagant23. If anything, the highlights are probably the firmly cooked Goshu rice and the miso
soup with ebi-imo taro24. Anyway, enjoy the meal. Oh, and make sure you put a good sprinkle of
sansho pepper on the soup – it’ll warm you right up.’
His eyes gleaming, Hideji nodded along to Nagare’s every word.
‘Tuck in while it’s hot!’ urged Koishi. Hideji sprinkled the sansho pepper and picked up the
bowl of miso soup. When he sipped25 it one of the chunks26 of taro tumbled into his mouth. Chewing
on it slowly, he nodded once, twice, and then a third time.
‘This miso soup’s fantastic. What rich flavours!’
With the thin-rimmed rice bowl in his left hand, his chopsticks danced back and forth27 between
the dishes, reaching towards each in turn. He took a piece of the pork belly, dripping with sauce,
and set it on top of the white rice before transporting it to his mouth. As he carefully bit into the
meat, a smile began to spread across his face. Next he crunched28 through the coating of the okara
croquette, savouring the soy pulp29 filling. When he placed the hirosu tofu ball on his tongue, the
delicately flavoured broth oozed30 out, some of it spilling from his mouth. Hideji wiped his chin
with the hand holding his chopsticks.
‘More rice?’ asked Koishi, offering him her tray.
‘You know, I haven’t eaten this well in quite a while,’ said Hideji, placing his depleted31 rice
bowl on the tray.
‘Well then, better eat your fill!’ said Koishi, hurrying off to the kitchen with the tray.
‘Is the food alright?’ said Nagare, coming over to the table just as Koishi was leaving.
‘More than alright. I’m struggling to believe a mere21 mortal acquaintance of mine could have put
this kind of meal together.’
‘Oh, no need for that kind of talk. I’m just an old codger who happens to run a restaurant,’ said
Nagare, looking humbly32 at the floor.
‘So, Hideji, what are you up to these days?’ said Koishi, appearing again with the bowl, now
piled high with rice.
‘I retired33 from the force last year. I’m on the board of a security company in Osaka now,’ said
Hideji, gazing eagerly at the glistening34 white rice before getting to work with his chopsticks.
‘Sounds like they’ve sorted you out with a nice position. I have to say though – you haven’t
changed a bit. Still got that sharp look in your eyes!’ said Nagare, meeting Hideji’s gaze.
‘The bitterness of these kikuna leaves works very nicely. A real Kyoto flavour, isn’t it.’ Hideji
positioned the rest of the salad on top of his rice before polishing it off. Then he crunched on one
of the pickled cucumbers.
‘How about steeping your rice in tea? You could mix it with some of the sardine. Koishi, why
don’t you pour him some hojicha?’
Taking her cue, Koishi poured the hot tea from a Banko teapot.
‘So you call it Kurama-style in Kyoto. Where I’m from, if you simmer something with sansho
pepper, that’s Arima-style.’
‘Must be a case of local pride then. Kurama and Arima are both famous for their sansho, aren’t
they?’
‘You learn something new every day!’ said Koishi.
When he had finished the steeped rice, Hideji picked his teeth, then settled back in his chair.
To the right of the counter seating, an indigo36 curtain hung over the entrance to the kitchen.
Whenever Nagare passed through the curtain, Hideji caught a glimpse of a tatami-matted living
room alongside the kitchen space, where a grand-looking Buddhist37 altar was set into the wall.
‘Mind if I pay my respects?’ asked Hideji, peering past the curtain. Koishi led him to the altar.
‘You’re looking younger, Hideji!’ said Koishi, putting her hands on Hideji’s shoulders and
taking in his features.
‘I hope you’re not making fun of me. I’ve passed the sixty mark, you know.’ Hideji kneeled and
positioned a stick of incense38 in front of the altar, then set the cushion to one side.
‘Thanks for doing this,’ said Nagare, glancing over at the portrait on the altar and lowering his
head.
‘So, Kikuko watches over you while you work?’ Still kneeling on the tatami mat, Hideji relaxed
into a less formal pose and looked up at Nagare.
‘More like keeps an eye on me,’ replied Nagare with a chuckle39.
‘I never would have thought you’d end up running a restaurant, you know.’
‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask since you walked in here. How did you find us?’ asked
Nagare, coming over and sitting by him on the tatami.
‘Well, my boss is a bit of a foodie. He likes to read Gourmet40 Monthly, and keeps a stack of back
issues in the boardroom. When I saw your advert41 in the magazine, I put two and two together.’
‘Now see, that’s why we called you Hideji the Hawk42. I can’t believe you knew it was my
restaurant from a one-line advert like that. There weren’t even any contact details! And yet here
you are.’ Nagare was shaking his head in admiration43.
‘Knowing you, I’m sure there’s a reason, but couldn’t you make that advert a little less
mysterious? The way it reads at the moment, I’ll probably be the only one to ever find you!’
‘Oh, that’s alright by me. I’d rather not be swamped with customers.’
‘You always were a funny one, Nagare.’
‘So, hoping we can track down a dish from your past, by any chance?’ asked Koishi, studying
Hideji as she stood at Nagare’s side.
‘Yes, I think I might be,’ said Hideji, a smile playing about his lips.
‘You still living over in Teramachi?’ asked Nagare, getting up and walking over to the sink.
‘The same old place by Junenji temple. Every morning I walk along the Kamogawa river to
Demachiyanagi, then jump on the Keihan line for my commute44 to the Osaka office. Phew, all this
kneeling is tough. At this age, my legs just can’t take it!’
Frowning, Hideji slowly raised himself from the tatami and returned to his seat in the restaurant.
‘Oh, tell me about it. It’s always a struggle when the priest comes over for Kikuko’s death day.’
‘Good on you for getting a priest in though,’ said Hideji. ‘I haven’t had one over to pray for my
wife for years. Bet she’s furious.’ He took a cigarette from his breast pocket, then glanced at
Koishi as if to gauge45 her reaction.
‘Oh, go ahead,’ said Koishi, setting an aluminium ashtray46 on the table.
‘Excuse me,’ said Hideji, waving his cigarette in the direction of Hiroshi. ‘Mind if I have a
quick puff47?’
‘Be my guest,’ replied Hiroshi with a grin, before retrieving48 a cigarette of his own from his bag.
‘Don’t you think it’s time you gave up? It’s one thing smoking when you’re young, but at our
age . . .’ said Nagare across the counter.
‘I’ve been hearing that a lot recently,’ said Hideji, then took a long drag on his cigarette.
‘You have? Wait – don’t tell me you’ve remarried?’
‘Actually, that’s what brings me here. See, I need your help recreating a certain . . . flavour,’
said Hideji, smiling as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.
‘Thanks for the katsudon – it was delicious,’ said Hiroshi, slapping a five-hundred-yen coin on
the counter and walking out of the restaurant with his cigarette dangling49 from his mouth. Hideji,
following him with his gaze, turned to Koishi.
‘That some sweetheart of yours?’
‘Oh, Hideji, shush!’ said Koishi, blushing as she thumped50 Hideji on the back. ‘He’s just one of
our regulars. Runs a sushi place around the corner.’
‘Hideji, sorry to be so formal, but it’s Koishi who runs the detective agency. Could you fill her
in on what it is you’re looking for? Our office – if you can call it that – is in the back.’
‘Got it. Alright then, Koishi, ready when you are,’ said Hideji, making as if to get up.
‘I’ll just be a moment,’ said Koishi, removing her apron and hurrying to the back of the kitchen.
‘So, Nagare, how long are you going to keep this widower51 thing up?’ said Hideji, settling back
into his chair.
‘Well, it’s only been five years, hasn’t it? If I marry someone else too soon, Kikuko will come
back and haunt me, I just know it,’ said Nagare, pouring them some tea.
‘Still too early for you, eh? It’ll be fifteen years ago this year for me. I figure Chieko will be just
about ready to forgive me by now.’
‘Has it really been that long? Goes quickly, doesn’t it. Feels like just the other the day that she
was inviting52 me around for dinner.’
‘She had her foibles, but one thing’s for sure – no one could cook like her,’ said Hideji with a
sigh. There was a moment’s silence.
‘Well, shall we?’ said Nagare, getting to his feet. Hideji followed his lead.
At the other end of the counter to the kitchen entrance was a small door. Nagare opened it to
reveal a long, narrow corridor which, it seemed, led to the detective agency’s office.
‘Are these all your creations?’ said Hideji, looking at the photos of food plastered along the
walls as he followed Nagare down the corridor.
‘Not quite all of them, but yes,’ replied Nagare over his shoulder.
‘And this . . . ?’ Hideji had come to a halt.
‘I’ve been drying red chilli peppers in the back garden. Trying to do it the way Kikuko used to.
Haven’t had much luck, though . . .’
‘I remember Chieko drying something or other that way too. It all seemed like a bit of a faff to
me, mind . . .’ said Hideji, walking again.
‘Koishi, your client’s here,’ said Nagare, opening the door at the end of the corridor.
‘Sorry to be a pain, but could you write a few things down for me?’
Koishi was sitting on a sofa opposite Hideji, on the other side of a low table.
‘Name, age, date of birth, address, occupation . . . Sheesh, feels like I’m taking out an insurance
policy!’ chuckled53 Hideji, opening up the folding clipboard Koishi handed him.
‘I wouldn’t worry too much about the details, seeing as it’s you.’
‘Oh, but I’m a former bureaucrat54. You won’t catch me cutting corners!’ said Hideji, returning
the clipboard.
‘Diligent as ever, aren’t you,’ said Koishi, scanning Hideji’s rows of carefully printed characters
and sitting up. ‘So, what dish are you looking for?’
‘Nabeyaki-udon. You know, vegetables and chicken simmered with udon noodles.’
‘Any other details?’ said Koishi, flipping55 open her notebook.
‘Well, it’s the kind my wife used to make.’
‘I see. It’s been a while since she passed away, hasn’t it?’
‘Fifteen long years.’
‘And you still remember the taste?’
Hideji nodded, then tilted56 his head to one side as if he’d changed his mind.
‘Well, I have a rough idea of the flavour, and the kinds of ingredients she used, but . . .’
‘No matter how you try, it never quite tastes the same?’
‘Exactly. I see you’ve got your father’s intuition!’
‘Hideji, please don’t tell me you’ve remarried and now you’re asking your new wife to cook
this for you?’
‘Would that be so bad?’
‘Of course it would. It’s a total no-no! Trying to get her to recreate a flavour bound up with
memories of your previous wife . . . I mean, really!’
‘You jump to conclusions just like Nagare too! I wouldn’t have the nerve to try something like
that. No, all I did was ask if she could try cooking us a nice nabeyaki-udon. Anyway, she’s not my
wife yet. She works in my office, and she’s been married once already, just like me. The two of us
get along like a house on fire. She comes over to my place from time to time, cooks us a bite to
eat.’
‘I see you’ve really rediscovered your youth. All loved up, are we?’ said Koishi, glancing up as
she teased him.
‘At my age, it’s not quite the whirlwind romance you’re imagining. It’s more about
companionship – you know, someone I can share a cup of tea with.’ Smiling bashfully, Hideji
went on. ‘Nami Sugiyama, her name is, but everyone just calls her Nami-chan. She’s a little
younger than me, but she ranks way above me at the office. She handles all the accounts, and the
boss really trusts her. We’re a real duo. Trips to the movies, strolls around the temples – just
having fun, you know.’
‘A new lease of life,’ said Koishi with a grin.
‘She’s living on her own over in Yamashina right now, but her family home is up north.
Takasaki, in Gunma prefecture. Her mother passed away a couple of months ago, leaving her
father on his own. She says she’s going to move back there to look after him.’
‘On her own, you mean?’
‘Well, actually, she asked if I’d go with her,’ said Hideji, his facing turning a bright shade of
red.
‘Congratulations! I mean, that’s basically a proposal, isn’t it?’ said Koishi, clapping her hands
in gentle applause.
‘My son has given the okay too, so it looks like it’s going ahead. The only problem is food. You
know, with her being from up north and all . . .’ said Hideji, his expression clouding over.
‘And that’s where the nabeyaki-udon comes in?’
‘Now, I don’t mean to harp35 on about Nami, but she really does know how to cook. Not just
Japanese food – though you should see the nikujaga stew17 or the seasoned rice she cooks up! No,
when it comes to non-Japanese stuff – curry57, say, or hamburger steaks, she puts the pros58 to shame.
Makes her own gyoza and steamed buns, too. I have nothing at all to complain about. It’s much
better than you’d get in some lousy restaurant! The thing is, though, her nabeyaki-udon just
doesn’t quite hit the spot. She really tries to make it tasty, you know. But there’s a world of
difference between hers and the one Chieko used to make. And nabeyaki-udon is my absolute
favourite. So you see . . .’
‘Got it. Dad’ll think of something. You can count on us!’ said Koishi, patting her chest
confidently.
‘Sounds like I’m mainly counting on your dad!’ chuckled Hideji.
‘Could you give me a few more details? Do you know what dashi stock Chieko used, or what
ingredients she added?’ asked Koishi, pen at the ready.
‘The dashi tasted like something you’d get at an udon place in Kyoto. I don’t think the
ingredients were unusual. Chicken, negi onion, sliced kamaboko, dried wheat cake, shiitake
mushrooms, prawn59 tempura and egg. That was all.’
‘What about the udon?’
‘They weren’t those thick Sanuki noodles you see everywhere these days. They were softer than
that. You know, sort of . . . squishy.’
‘Sounds like she used proper Kyoto udon. Well, I’ve got a decent idea of the dish now. But,
Hideji, you’ve tried telling Nami all this, haven’t you? And yet it still ended up tasting different.
This could be a tricky60 one to solve . . .’ Koishi was frowning.
‘Maybe it was the ingredients that were different. Or the seasoning61. I just don’t know . . .’
‘Didn’t Chieko ever say anything? You know – about where she bought the udon, or the other
ingredients?’
‘Well, I’ve never been that interested in cooking myself, you see. But . . . there was this one
phrase she used to mumble62. Masu, suzu, fuji. Something like that . . .’
‘Masu, suzu, fuji. That was it?’
‘Yes. Just before she set off to do the shopping, she’d always chant it, like some Buddhist
mantra. I can still hear her now.’
‘Was there anything else? Something you remember about the flavour, for example?’
‘I remember thinking it always tasted a little bitter at the end.’
‘Bitter? You mean the dish as a whole?’
‘Not exactly. It was more the aftertaste . . . But I might be wrong. I’m probably getting mixed
up with something else she used to make.’
‘Hard to imagine nabeyaki-udon tasting bitter . . .’ said Koishi, thumbing through her notebook.
‘If I could just eat it one more time, I’d feel a lot better about going off to live in Takasaki. I’m
sure I’ll get used to Nami’s version once I’m there. When in Rome, and all that . . .’
‘Alright then. We’re on the case!’ said Koishi, snapping her notebook shut.
When Hideji and Koishi returned to the restaurant, Nagare turned the television off with the
remote.
‘Did the interview go alright?’
‘I wish I could say it went swimmingly, but . . .’ replied Koishi in an uncertain voice.
‘Looks like I’ve landed you with a tough one. Don’t let this case go cold, you hear?’ said
Hideji, slapping Nagare on the shoulder.
‘After all, this is Hideji’s chance to enjoy a new lease of life!’ chimed in Koishi. Following
Hideji’s lead, she thumped Nagare on the back.
‘I’ll do my absolute best,’ said Nagare, his nose wrinkling slightly.
‘So, how much do I owe you?’ said Hideji, putting on his coat and taking out his wallet.
‘Oh, please! You left such a kind offering for my wife, and I haven’t given you anything in
return. Treating you to a meal is the least I can do . . .’
‘Ah, you found that, did you? I thought I hid it under the incense holder63.’
‘Oh, don’t go thinking you can slip something like that past me!’ The two men caught each
other’s eye and laughed.
‘Hideji, about your next visit – would two weeks today work?’ asked Koishi.
‘Two weeks today . . . Yes, that’ll be perfect. I’m off work that day.’ Hideji opened his diary,
licked his pencil, and scribbled64 down the date.
‘You look just like you used to when we went around questioning people,’ said Nagare with a
smile.
‘Old habits die hard, eh?’ Hideji slid his diary back into his inner pocket and stepped out into
the street. As he did so, a tabby cat scarpered away from the door.
‘What’s wrong, Drowsy65? He won’t hurt you!’ called Koishi.
‘Is that your cat? It wasn’t here a moment ago . . .’
‘He started hanging around here about five years ago. He’s always half asleep, so we call him
Drowsy. He has it rough, though – Dad never stops bullying66 the poor thing!’
‘It’s hardly bullying. You just can’t have a cat running around when you’re making food for
people.’ Nagare whistled, but Drowsy, stretched out on the other side of the road, seemed to be
pretending not to hear him.
‘Well, I’m counting on you!’ said Hideji, and walked off down the street, making his way west.
‘Another tough case, then?’ said Nagare, glancing at Koishi by his side.
‘Shouldn’t be too tricky. Hideji knows exactly the dish he’s after – he just hasn’t managed to
recreate it,’ replied Koishi, sliding open the door.
‘What dish would that be, then?’ said Nagare, walking back into the restaurant and taking a
seat.
‘Nabeyaki-udon,’ said Koishi, sitting down opposite him.
‘From a particular restaurant?’
‘No, the way his wife used to make it,’ said Koishi, opening up her notebook on the table.
‘Oh. Then it will be tricky, trust me. Chieko really knew her way round the kitchen. It sounds
like nostalgia67 might be the secret ingredient here . . .’ said Nagare, flicking68 through Koishi’s notes.
‘The ingredients are all pretty standard, right? But Hideji says he just can’t get it to taste the
same . . .’
‘Chieko was a proper Kyoto lady. I can imagine the sort of seasoning she used. And if they
lived in Teramachi . . .’ Nagare crossed his arms as he racked his brains.
‘Did you know Chieko, then?’
‘Know her? We were good friends. She even cooked for me a few times.’
‘In that case, shouldn’t this be an easy one to solve?’
‘But I don’t remember ever trying her nabeyaki-udon . . .’ Nagare scanned Koishi’s notes
carefully.
‘This new girlfriend of his – apparently69 she’s a good ten years or so younger than him! Bet
you’re jealous.’
‘Don’t be silly. How many times do I have to tell you: your mother is the only one for me.
Anyway, this Nami – she’s from Gunma prefecture up north, is that right?’ asked Nagare, looking
up.
‘Yes, I think so. He said her family was from Takasaki.’
‘Takasaki, eh . . .’ said Nagare pensively70.
‘Dad, I feel like nabeyaki-udon all of a sudden. How about having it for dinner?’
‘Oh yes. And not just tonight, either. It’s nabeyaki every night until we crack this one,’ said
Nagare, without looking up from the notebook.
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trench
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swirled
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chilly
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scruffily
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enticing
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banter
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aluminium
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apron
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rustle
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shovelling
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sip
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stew
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sardine
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broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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curd
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| n.凝乳；凝乳状物 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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Buddhist
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| adj./n.佛教的，佛教徒 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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gourmet
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| n.食物品尝家；adj.出于美食家之手的 | |
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advert
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| vi.注意，留意，言及；n.广告 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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commute
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| vi.乘车上下班；vt.减(刑)；折合；n.上下班交通 | |
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gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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ashtray
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| n.烟灰缸 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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retrieving
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| n.检索（过程），取还v.取回( retrieve的现在分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bureaucrat
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| n. 官僚作风的人，官僚，官僚政治论者 | |
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flipping
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| 讨厌之极的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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pros
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| abbr.prosecuting 起诉；prosecutor 起诉人；professionals 自由职业者；proscenium （舞台）前部n.赞成的意见( pro的名词复数 )；赞成的理由；抵偿物；交换物 | |
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prawn
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| n.对虾，明虾 | |
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tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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seasoning
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| n.调味；调味料；增添趣味之物 | |
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mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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67
nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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68
flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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