1
The long, bitter winter was over, and spring had finally come to Kyoto.
Walking from Higashi Honganji temple, Suyako Hirose crossed the wide avenue of Karasuma-
dori and came onto Shomen-dori. The colours of spring – pale blues1, lemon yellows, pastel pinks
– were also on display in the clothing of people passing down the narrow street.
Meanwhile, making her way east, Suyako was wearing a plain, charcoal-grey dress and black
jacket.
She’d done her homework before getting here, so she felt reasonably convinced that the plain-
looking building in front of her was her destination. Still, given the absence of any sign or other
indications that it was open for business, it was hard to be sure.
By the sliding aluminium3 door was a small window. The chatter4 drifting through it certainly
sounded like that of a restaurant, while the fragrances5 wafting7 out reminded Suyako of the food
section of a fancy department store.
‘Thanks for the meal!’
The door flew open, and a man in a loose-fitting white jacket strolled out before closing it again.
The tabby cat that had been dozing8 in front of the building rushed over to him.
‘Excuse me,’ Suyako said to the man, who had started stroking the cat. ‘This is the Kamogawa
Diner, right?’
‘Yeah, sounds about right. Mr Kamogawa and his daughter run the place, if that’s what you
mean,’ he replied, then bowed slightly. Suyako gently slid the door open again.
‘Here for a meal?’ asked Nagare Kamogawa, wiping his hands as he emerged from the kitchen.
‘Actually, there’s a dish I’d like you to help me find.’
‘Well, if it’s the detective service you’re after, my daughter’s the one to talk to,’ replied Nagare
plainly, looking at Koishi.
‘Though it’s Dad who does the real detective work,’ said Koishi. ‘Are you hungry?’
The clock showed half past twelve.
‘What kind of food do you serve?’ asked Suyako, eyeing the ramen bowl that had been left on
the counter, in which a small pool of broth10 remained. ‘I’m afraid I’m a little fussy11.’
‘We serve all our first-time customers a set menu,’ said Nagare, taking over from Koishi. ‘Any
allergies12?’
‘Oh – no,’ replied Suyako, now glancing around the restaurant. ‘But I’m not very keen on meat,
or anything too greasy13.’
‘Well, if you’re happy with something light, I can serve you right away.’
‘That’d be just fine. I eat like a bird,’ said Suyako, a relieved look on her face.
‘We actually have a booking tonight for a traditional Japanese banquet. I was just preparing the
food. I’ll pick you out some dishes!’
Nagare hurried back into the kitchen.
‘Please, take a seat,’ said Koishi, pulling out one of the red-cushioned chairs.
‘This place really is quite peculiar,’ said Suyako, looking around the restaurant again. ‘You
don’t have a sign, or even a menu!’
‘That’s right. You did well to find us,’ said Koishi, setting a teacup down in front of Suyako.
‘I saw the advert14 in Gourmet15 Monthly.’
‘You mean you worked it out from that single line of text?’ said Koishi, pausing as she poured
the tea.
‘There weren’t any contact details, and even when I wrote to the editor she refused to tell me. I
told her that in that case I really didn’t see the point in the advert, but she refused to budge16. So I
did a bit of asking around.’ Suyako took a long sip17 of her tea.
‘Sorry about that. People are always complaining about that advert, but my dad’s a stubborn
one,’ said Koishi, glancing at the kitchen. ‘He always says that, if someone’s really destined18 to
walk into this place, that one line will be all they need.’
‘Apologies for the wait,’ said Nagare, arriving with the food. ‘I’ve prepared a selection of light
dishes.’ He began removing a series of small plates from the round tray he was carrying and
positioning them in front of Suyako.
‘Oh, these are adorable,’ said Suyako, her eyes sparkling.
‘From top left,’ began Nagare, tucking the tray under his arm, ‘Miyajima oysters20, simmered
Kurama-style, miso-glazed baked butterburs with millet21 cake, bracken and bamboo shoot stew22,
chargrilled moroko, breast of Kyoto-reared chicken with a wasabi dressing24, and vinegared Wakasa
mackerel wrapped in pickled Shogoin turnip25. In the bottom right you have a hamaguri clam26 broth
thickened with kudzu starch27. Tonight’s customer asked me to create something that evoked28 both
the lingering winter and the onset29 of spring, which led to the dishes you see here. Today’s rice is
of the Koshihikari variety, sourced from Tamba. Please – enjoy the meal.’
‘I don’t even know where to start!’ said Suyako, her eyes widening as she reached for her
chopsticks.
‘I’ll leave the teapot here. Just give me a shout if you need a refill!’ said Koishi, retreating to the
kitchen alongside Nagare.
First, Suyako’s chopsticks moved towards the grilled23 moroko, her eyes drawn31 to it by the
springlike appearance of the dish. Two of the small fish were arranged on an oval Kiseto-ware
plate. Suyako found herself recalling that time, three years ago, when she had eaten at a traditional
restaurant in Kyoto with her ex-husband, Denjiro Okae.
With a smile creasing32 his features, he had told her you could catch moroko in Lake Biwa, and
that in Kyoto it was seen as a seasonal33 delicacy34 that heralded35 spring. Suyako remembered thinking
that Denjiro had become every inch the Kyoto man.
Dipping the fish in the mix of vinegar and soy sauce provided, Suyako polished them off in no
time, then tried a mouthful of the mackerel wrapped in pickled turnip. She’d had mackerel sushi
many times. In her hometown of Yamaguchi, she’d occasionally finish off a meal at her favourite
small restaurant with a Sekisaba mackerel roll. But she’d never had it with something pickled like
this. The sweetness of the turnip mingled36 pleasantly with the sourness of the vinegared mackerel
on her tongue.
Next she turned to the bowl of clam broth. She removed the lid, with its maki-e design depicting37
a budding willow38 tree, and was greeted by a cloud of steam heavy with the fragrance6 of the clams39
and their yuzu garnish40. Suyako took a sip of the broth, then let out a deep sigh.
‘Food to your liking41, then?’ asked Nagare, returning from the kitchen.
‘Oh, it’s exquisite,’ said Suyako, dabbing42 at her mouth with a lace handkerchief. ‘Almost too
good for a country bumpkin like me!’
‘Where are you visiting from?’
‘Yamaguchi prefecture.’
‘That’s a long way,’ said Nagare, clearing away the plates she’d finished. ‘Thanks for making
the trip. Once you’re finished here, we’ll be happy to show you to the office.’
Once Nagare was out of sight, Suyako took the Kurama-style simmered oyster19 and placed it on
top of her rice, then poured some tea over the bowl and began bolting it down. With the occasional
pause to sample the wasabi-dressed chicken breast, she emptied the bowl entirely43, right down to
the last grain of rice.
‘More rice?’ asked Nagare, who had emerged from the kitchen again and was extending his
round tray in her direction.
‘I’m fine, thanks. Oh – sorry for eating so rudely!’ Her face had turned red, presumably because
she was worried Nagare had seen her steeping her rice in tea.
‘Oh, there’s no such thing as rude or polite when it comes to food,’ said Nagare, clearing away
her dishes and wiping the table. ‘What matters is that you eat it the way you like it.’
‘Thank you for the meal,’ said Suyako, putting down her chopsticks and pressing her palms
together in appreciation44.
‘Well then, shall I show you to the office?’ asked Koishi, who had been waiting for her cue. She
opened the door by the counter and began walking down the corridor. Suyako followed shortly
behind.
‘What are these photos?’ asked Suyako, stopping in the middle of the corridor.
‘They’re all dishes my dad made,’ said Koishi, gesturing proudly towards the sea of photos on
the walls of the corridor. ‘Japanese, Western, Chinese – you name it, he’s done it.’
‘A jack2 of all trades, eh? So he doesn’t actually specialize in any particular cuisine45?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose you could put it that way,’ said Koishi, with a disgruntled pout46.
‘Did he make these, too?’ asked Suyako, sounding surprised as she inspected a particular set of
photos.
‘Ah, that was when the owner of a kimono shop asked him to create a fugu menu. That platter
there is fugu sashimi, on the hob is grilled fugu, and in that clay pot you can see the rice porridge
created from the leftovers47 of a fugu hotpot. Dad is also a licensed48 fugu chef, you see.’
‘I assumed this was just an ordinary restaurant,’ said Suyako, smiling as she turned back
towards the area where she’d eaten. ‘The decor doesn’t quite match the quality of the food you
serve, does it?’
‘Do you like fugu, then?’ asked Koishi grumpily as she carried on down the corridor.
‘Well, I’m from Yamaguchi,’ replied Suyako airily. ‘So yes, I’ve been fond of it since I was a
little girl.’
‘Lucky you. The first time I ever had it was to celebrate getting into university!’ said Koishi
over her shoulder.
‘My father was a university chancellor49, so people often gave it to him as a gift.’
‘I see,’ said Koishi. Sensing that this bragging50 was going to continue, she found her expression
turning sour, and opened the door at the end of the corridor more noisily than was necessary.
‘In here, please.’
Nodding, Suyako made her way into the room and settled on one of the sofas, apparently51
oblivious52 to the scowl53 on Koishi’s face.
‘Could you fill this out for me, please?’ said Koishi, her tone even more businesslike than usual
as she held out the clipboard. Placing tea leaves into the pot, she glanced furtively54 at her client.
Suyako scribbled55 down her details.
‘Will that do?’
‘Suyako Hirose. Fifty years old – well, you don’t look it. Right then, what dish are you looking
for?’ asked Koishi brusquely.
‘Tonkatsu,’ replied Suyako, looking straight at Koishi.
‘I thought you said you didn’t like greasy food or meat?’ retorted Koishi in surprise.
‘Oh, it’s not me who wants to eat it. It’s for a . . . certain someone,’ said Suyako, a pleading
look now in her eyes.
‘What sort of tonkatsu?’ asked Koishi.
‘I don’t know. That’s why I need your help finding it.’
‘Well, yes, but . . . Could you at least be a little more specific?’ frowned Koishi.
‘I don’t know where to start . . .’ said Suyako, puckering56 her lips as she hesitated.
‘Oh, start wherever you like,’ replied Koishi curtly57.
‘Have you heard of Demachiyanagi station?’
‘Of course I have – like everyone else in Kyoto!’ Koishi’s cheeks had puffed58 up.
‘Well, there’s a temple right by the station.’
Stifling59 a yawn, Koishi tilted60 her head to one side. ‘A temple? Hmm . . .’
‘There used to be a tonkatsu restaurant near there. Katsuden, it was called.’
Koishi nodded silently.
‘That’s the tonkatsu I’m looking for. The one they used to serve.’
‘And that restaurant no longer exists?’
This time it was Suyako who nodded.
‘When did it close?’
‘About three and a half years ago,’ said Suyako, a meek61 look on her face.
‘Well, that’s not too long ago, is it?’ said Koishi, scribbling62 away in her notebook. ‘Katsuden,
you said the place was called? Shouldn’t be too hard to find.’
‘That’s what I thought. I searched online for it, but nothing turned up.’ Suyako’s expression had
clouded over.
‘Three and a half years ago, you said? I’d have thought people would have mentioned it online.
You know, review sites, blogs, that kind of thing . . .’
‘Well, this place hasn’t even shut down, and there’s absolutely nothing about you online.’
Koishi’s expression relaxed slightly. ‘I suppose you’re right. Dad and I have a thing about
people writing strange reviews. We kept asking not to be listed, but the restaurant still ended up on
the websites. That’s why we took our sign down and made it look like we’d gone out of business.’
‘Seems my husband came to the same conclusion,’ said Suyako nonchalantly. ‘Though I think
he at least bothered to keep the sign and noren curtain outside.’
‘Wait. Katsuden was run by your husband?’ asked Koishi, leaning forward across the low table.
Her eyes had widened with interest.
‘Yes,’ nodded Suyako. ‘More precisely63, my ex-husband.’
‘In that case, why don’t you just ask this . . . ex-husband of yours?’ Koishi’s cheeks had puffed
up again.
‘If that was an option, I wouldn’t be here, would I?’ said Suyako, looking down at the table.
‘See, he’s the person I want you to make it for.’
‘Now you’ve really lost me,’ said Koishi, twiddling her pen between her fingers in frustration64.
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘I married him twenty-five years ago, when he owned a fugu restaurant in Yamaguchi. Fuguden,
he called it. My father didn’t approve of the match one bit – in fact, my whole family were
opposed.’ Suyako paused and reached for her teacup.
‘You did say your father was a university chancellor. So, why did the owner of a fugu restaurant
suddenly decide to open a tonkatsu place in Kyoto?’ asked Koishi, glancing up.
‘Someone got poisoned at the restaurant,’ said Suyako, then took a long sip of tea.
‘Fugu poisoning? But that can be lethal65, can’t it?’ asked Koishi with another frown.
‘Yes. In fact, the person in question died.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Koishi in a low voice.
‘He was my cousin, actually. He’d always been the headstrong type. Once he’d said he’d do
something, there was no changing his mind. He’d caught his own fugu, brought it into the
restaurant and demanded they cook it for him. My husband was away at a Fugu association
meeting that day. He’d left his sous-chef Mr Masuda in charge. And it all ended in disaster.’
Suyako was biting her lip as she spoke66.
‘I suppose this Mr Masuda felt like he couldn’t refuse that cousin of yours, seeing as he was
your husband’s family?’ said Koishi sympathetically.
‘Apparently he did refuse – several times in fact. But it got to the point where my cousin was
almost threatening him.’
‘What happened to the restaurant?’
‘It was a small town, so word got around. There was no choice but to shut the restaurant. And
that should have been the end of it, but . . .’ Suyako’s expression darkened.
‘Let me guess. Compensation,’ said Koishi, flicking67 through the pages of her notebook.
‘Not really. My cousin’s family made their fortune in trade, so they weren’t exactly hungry for
cash.’ Suyako lowered her gaze. ‘But the whole affair messed up relations with my family. In the
end it was my husband who asked for a divorce.’
‘But your cousin was the one who marched in there and demanded they cook it,’ said Koishi
with a hint of indignation. ‘It’s not like your husband was to blame, is it?’
‘No. But Denjiro has a keener sense of responsibility than most people . . .’
‘Denjiro is your ex-husband, then?’ said Koishi, making a note.
‘Yes. Denjiro Okae,’ said Suyako, peering at the notebook.
‘Did you really need to get divorced?’ asked Koishi, pursing her lips again. ‘Couldn’t you have
left Yamaguchi together?’
‘This might sound arrogant68, but my family is quite well known in Yamaguchi,’ said Suyako,
straightening her posture69. ‘The family name is everything. And I had my piano teaching to think
about . . .’
‘You’re a piano teacher?’
‘Oh yes. I’ve taught everyone, from nursery school kids to students at music colleges preparing
for competitions. I had more than a hundred pupils at one point.’
‘So you stayed in Yamaguchi after the divorce, while your ex-husband came to Kyoto and
opened a tonkatsu restaurant.’
‘Actually,’ said Suyako coolly, ‘it seems he spent the first two years or so after the divorce
outside the food industry, roaming around doing various jobs in the Tokyo area. It was only later
that he came to Kyoto.’
‘Why a tonkatsu restaurant?’
‘That I don’t know. I do remember him bringing tonkatsu home from his restaurant once, saying
he’d cooked it for his staff to eat after work. He’d do that sometimes – bring home whatever he’d
made them that day.’ Suyako was rocking her head from side to side pensively70.
‘Oh, I love eating spare food from the restaurant,’ said Koishi with a smile. ‘We’re always
doing that here.’
‘I wasn’t so keen,’ said Suyako, furrowing71 her brow. ‘Sort of felt like I was being given the
leftovers.’
‘So, why the sudden request to recreate the tonkatsu from your ex-husband’s restaurant? Why
not just ask him directly? Because you want him to eat it? I’m struggling to keep up here . . .’
Koishi was staring at Suyako with an almost pleading look in her eyes.
‘Every year on my birthday, the twenty-fifth of October, he used to send me a little something.
But last year nothing came.’ Suyako seemed to be choosing her words carefully. ‘I was a little
concerned, so I got in touch. It turned out he’d been admitted to the Japanese Red Cross Hospital
in Higashiyama. When I visited him there, just after the New Year, he was terribly thin. Barely a
shadow of his former self. He’d been quite a big man in his prime, you see.’
‘Sounds like a pretty serious illness,’ said Koishi in a quiet voice. Her pen had stopped moving.
‘The doctor gave him three months at most.’
‘Three months? But . . . that means there’s no time to waste!’ cried Koishi, glancing at the
calendar on the wall.
‘According to the nurses, all he talks about is the tonkatsu at Katsuden. But when I tried asking
him about it, he wouldn’t say a word. And then I happened to see your advert in Gourmet Monthly
. . .’ Suyako gave a long sigh as she reached the end of her story.
‘And he hasn’t told the nurses what kind of tonkatsu he means, either?’ asked Koishi, with
another pleading look.
‘Not in detail. They did tell me that when he rambled72 about it at night, he called out “five mil,
three mil”. Not that I have the slightest idea what that might mean . . .’ Suyako shook her head
from side to side.
‘Five mil, three mil? How mysterious. Well, I think I’ve got all the details now. I’m sure Dad’ll
be able to figure this out. I’ll make sure he doesn’t dawdle73!’ Koishi closed her notebook and got to
her feet.
‘Thank you,’ said Suyako, rising and bowing.
‘All okay?’ asked Nagare, folding up his newspaper as the pair returned to the restaurant.
‘This one’s urgent, Dad,’ exclaimed Koishi. ‘Start looking for tonkatsu!’
‘What? Why?’
‘Do you remember a tonkatsu restaurant called Katsuden?’
‘Katsuden? It does sound vaguely74 familiar . . .’ said Nagare, frowning slightly.
‘A little more enthusiasm would be nice!’ huffed Koishi.
‘Koishi, listen. If you have something to tell me, you need to calm down and do it properly. It’s
always like this with you!’
These words seemed to have their intended effect. Koishi indicated a chair for Suyako, then sat
down next to her.
‘So, Suyako and her husband got divorced for reasons I won’t go into. But now he’s seriously
ill in hospital!’
Koishi explained the situation, starting from the beginning. As he listened, Nagare kept tilting75
his head to one side, nodding, and at one point fetched a map of Kyoto from the shelf.
‘Oh, Katsuden – I remember that place now. Must have been over a decade ago, but I went
there a few times. It was just behind Chotokuji temple, by Demachiyanagi station. Small place,
with this big, burly owner who’d stand there frying the tonkatsu in silence.’
Nagare opened up the map.
‘That’s right,’ said Suyako. ‘I believe it was very near that temple you mentioned. As for that
burly owner you mentioned, well, these days he’s . . .’
Suyako took a notebook out of her bag and showed Nagare a photo that was wedged between its
pages.
‘I can just about recognize him,’ said Nagare, staring at the photograph. ‘But I do remember
him being a lot bigger . . .’
The photo appeared to have been taken in a hospital ward30. Suyako confirmed that the haggard-
looking man sitting up in a bed by the window was indeed Denjiro Okae.
‘What slender fingers you have,’ said Nagare, his eyes drawn to Suyako’s hand as she held the
photo.
‘She’s a piano teacher, Dad – of course she has nice fingers. Anyway, there’s no time for chit-
chat!’ said Koishi, an imploring76 look in her eyes.
‘Three months, you said . . .’ murmured Nagare, unable to take his eyes away from the
photograph.
‘If he’s lucky,’ replied Suyako, her voice becoming faint.
‘I see. Two weeks should be enough time to track this dish of yours down. Will you be able to
come back a fortnight today?’
‘Two weeks, Dad?’ squealed77 Koishi. ‘Can’t you do it any faster?’
‘Two weeks,’ replied Nagare brusquely. ‘That’ll be the absolute minimum if I’m going to find
out how the tonkatsu was done at Katsuden and then recreate it.’
Suyako got to her feet and gave him a deep bow.
On her way out of the restaurant, Suyako was accosted78 by Drowsy79, who insisted on curling
himself around her legs.
‘Hey, Drowsy! Enough of that, okay?’ said Koishi.
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ said Suyako, scooping80 Drowsy up and handing him over to Koishi. ‘I have a
cat myself, you see.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘Hanon. You know, after the composer who wrote all those piano studies.’ Suyako’s face lit up.
It was the first proper smile Koishi had seen on it all day.
‘You really are a piano teacher through and through, aren’t you!’ she replied, returning the
smile. Suyako began making her way west down the street. Nagare and Koishi bowed in her
direction, with Drowsy mewing away at their side.
‘Looks like I overestimated81 you, Dad.’
‘What are you on about?’ replied Nagare as he flicked82 through Koishi’s notes.
‘I was sure you were going to turn around and say something like, “Alright then, give me three
days!” Have you forgotten what happened with Mum?’ Koishi was giving him a sharp look.
‘Five mil, three mil . . .’ Nagare continued leafing through the notebook as though he couldn’t
even hear her.
‘Dad, are you even listening?’ asked Koishi, thumping84 him on the back.
‘Food poisoning alone is enough to ruin a restaurant’s reputation. But when someone dies,
that’s something else entirely . . .’
‘What are you mumbling85 about?’ said Koishi, still glaring at him.
‘Koishi, I’m going to Yamaguchi tomorrow. May as well spend the night at Yuda Onsen if I’m
going that way. I’ll bring you back some of those bean-jam buns. Just promise you’ll look after
this place, okay?’ Nagare shut the notebook and got to his feet.
‘Come on, Dad,’ said Koishi, with puffed cheeks. ‘You could at least get us a fugu hotpot kit9.’
‘That, Koishi,’ said Nagare, ‘is the kind of luxury we can’t afford.’ For once, it was his turn to
thump83 her on the back.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
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blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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aluminium
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| n.铝 (=aluminum) | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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fragrances
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| n.芳香，香味( fragrance的名词复数 )；香水 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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wafting
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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allergies
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| n.[医]过敏症；[口]厌恶，反感；（对食物、花粉、虫咬等的）过敏症( allergy的名词复数 )；变态反应，变应性 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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advert
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| vi.注意，留意，言及；n.广告 | |
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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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budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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oysters
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millet
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| n.小米，谷子 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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grilled
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| adj. 烤的, 炙过的, 有格子的 动词grill的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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clam
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| n.蛤，蛤肉 | |
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starch
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28
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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creasing
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的现在分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 挑檐 | |
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seasonal
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| adj.季节的，季节性的 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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depicting
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| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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clams
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| n.蛤；蚌，蛤( clam的名词复数 )v.（在沙滩上）挖蛤( clam的第三人称单数 ) | |
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garnish
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| n.装饰，添饰，配菜 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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cuisine
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| n.烹调，烹饪法 | |
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pout
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| v.撅嘴；绷脸；n.撅嘴；生气，不高兴 | |
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leftovers
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| n.剩余物，残留物，剩菜 | |
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licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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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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puckering
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的现在分词 )；小褶纹；小褶皱 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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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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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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furrowing
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的现在分词 ) | |
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rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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dawdle
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| vi.浪费时间；闲荡 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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81
overestimated
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| 对（数量）估计过高，对…作过高的评价( overestimate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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83
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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84
thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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85
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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