1
Spring and autumn are when the biggest crowds descend1 on Kyoto. In particular, spring sees a
rush of tourists all trying to enjoy the short-lived cherry blossom season, leaving some parts of the
city literally2 swarming3 with people.
It was early afternoon, and the courtyard in front of Higashi Honganji temple was filled with
visitors gaping4 up at the cherry blossom trees, snapping away with their phone cameras.
What was the point of just taking a photo of some isolated5 cherry blossoms? That was the
question troubling the young man in a suit who, as he passed, shook his head from side to side in
confusion.
After a lengthy6 photo session, the crowd drifted towards Shosei-en Garden, one of the quieter
cherry blossom viewing spots. As though borne along by the flood of tourists, the young man
made his way east along Shomen-dori, a map in one hand. Soon enough, he had found his way to
the building on the right-hand side of the street that he was looking for.
‘This place?’ he muttered, glancing alternately at the mortar-coated two-storey building in front
of him and the hand-drawn7 map he was holding. Through the half-open window he was able to
catch of a glimpse of the interior.
An elderly lady was sitting at the table, seemingly lingering over her meal. The man wearing
whites at her side must be the chef, he thought. There were no other customers inside.
‘Hello there. I’m looking for Nagare Kamogawa.’
‘You’re speaking to him,’ said Nagare, turning around and taking in the man’s appearance. He
was wearing a well-tailored navy pinstripe suit, with a large Bottega Veneta pouch8 under his arm.
His pointed9 brown boots had an enamel-like sheen.
‘Ah. Nice to meet you.’ The man walked into the restaurant and glanced at the plate in front of
the elderly lady before removing his jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. ‘Oh, is that wild
vegetable tempura? Looks delicious.’
‘And . . . who are you?’ asked Koishi, eyeing him dubiously10. She was wearing a white shirt and
dark jeans underneath11 a black sommelier apron12.
‘Ah yes, where are my manners. Hisahiko Tsuda. I’m here on Akane’s recommendation.’ He
courteously13 held out a business card.
‘Ah, Mr Tsuda. Akane told me about you. I wondered when we’d be seeing you. Hmm, Tsuda
Enterprises, eh?’ asked Nagare, studying the card.
‘And you must be Koishi. I’ve heard a lot about you from Akane. She told me to look out for a
pretty young woman!’ said Hisahiko, giving her a meaningful look.
‘Young?’ said Koishi, blushing. ‘More like middle-aged14. Isn’t that right, Tae?’ She patted Tae
on the back.
‘Koishi, can’t you see I’m eating? I’d like to enjoy my meal in peace, if you don’t mind!’
snapped the older woman. She was wearing a wisteria-coloured kimono, a greenish-grey obi
around her waist.
‘I’m sorry for the interruption,’ said Hisahiko, bowing deeply. ‘I just couldn’t help myself, what
with that delicious-looking tempura you’re eating, and this beautiful young woman standing15 here .
. .’
‘That sort of smooth talk will get you nowhere in Kyoto, you know,’ said Tae, reaching out
with her chopsticks and dabbing16 a piece of ostrich17-fern tempura into the dish of thin dipping
sauce.
‘Are you hungry?’ intervened Nagare.
‘I feel bad, turning up like this out of the blue. But yes, if I could get something to eat . . .’ said
Hisahiko, putting a hand to his stomach.
‘We normally serve first-time customers a set menu. Will that be okay?’
‘Yes, please.’
Nagare set Hisahiko’s card down on the table, then ducked under the curtain separating the
restaurant from the kitchen.
‘Please, take a seat!’ said Koishi, pulling out one of the red-cushioned chairs.
‘No sign, or even a menu . . .’ said Hisahiko, glancing around as he sat down. ‘Akane did tell
me about this place, but it’s even stranger than I was expecting.’
‘How do you know Akane, then?’ asked Koishi, placing a teacup in front of him.
‘We’ve acquired the entire magazine that Akane edits – Gourmet18 Monthly,’ said Hisahiko
casually19, then took a sip20 of his tea. ‘Publishers are all finding it hard to stay afloat these days, you
see . . .’
‘What kind of company is Tsuda Enterprises, anyway?’ asked Koishi, eyeing his business card
as she wiped the table down.
‘Oh, we do everything. Finance, property, restaurants, publishing . . . If it’s a viable21 business,
we’ll try it.’
‘C-E-O . . . ?’ said Koishi, picking up the business card.
‘Chief Executive Officer. Basically what we call a kaicho in Japanese,’ said Hisahiko, taking
another sip of his tea and tapping away at something on his phone.
‘Quite young for one of those, aren’t you!’ said Koishi, her glance darting22 between the card and
Hisahiko’s face.
‘Koishi, could you bring me some matcha?’ said Tae, setting her chopsticks down on the table
and turning in her chair to face her.
‘Already?’ asked Koishi, looking over. ‘But you haven’t finished your meal!’
‘Oh, I’m not asking for a cup of tea, silly. I mean matcha powder.’
‘Ah, wanting to mix it with your tempura salt, are you?’ asked Nagare, emerging from the
kitchen with a small porcelain23 bowl.
‘I knew you’d figure it out, Nagare,’ said Tae.
‘I should have brought you some earlier,’ said Nagare, setting the bowl of powdered matcha
down alongside the black lacquer tray from which she was eating.
‘Now, this may just be my imagination, but today’s wild vegetable tempura seemed to lack that
slight bitterness it should have.’
Tae mixed the matcha into the mound24 of salt by her dish, then pressed the koshiabura tempura
into it and took a bite.
‘There really is no pleasing you sometimes, is there? It’s true: the vegetables are a bit lacking in
bitterness and fragrance25 this time. Went and foraged26 for them myself, up in the Kuta mountains,
but still . . .’ Nagare folded his arms and cocked his head to one side.
‘You source all your ingredients yourself, do you?’ asked Hisahiko, setting his phone down on
the table.
‘It’s just wild vegetables and mushrooms that I venture into the mountains for. They’re always
so much more flavourful than what you find at the markets,’ said Nagare, briefly27 glancing in
Hisahiko’s direction.
‘You really don’t mess around in Kyoto, do you? I can’t wait for the meal.’
‘Just a moment,’ said Nagare, hurrying off to the kitchen.
‘I don’t know where you’re from, but don’t go thinking every restaurant in Kyoto is like this.
This place is special,’ said Tae, fixing Hisahiko with a stern gaze.
‘Oh, I’m just an uninformed Tokyoite. Though I was born in rural Hiroshima, actually, so deep
down I’m a real country bumpkin!’ said Hisahiko, smiling with one cheek only.
‘Actually, if anything, Tokyo is where the real bumpkins are,’ said Tae, turning her back on
him. ‘Not that a young person would understand that.’
‘Sorry for the wait,’ said Nagare, setting a large basket woven from green bamboo down on the
table. ‘I figured a youngster like you would have a hearty28 appetite. So I prepared extra.’
‘Wow,’ said Hisahiko, his eyes widening.
‘Seeing as it’s cherry season, I’ve gone for an imitation of a lunchbox from a blossom-viewing
picnic. On top of that folded kaishi paper is the wild vegetable tempura. Ostrich fern, mugwort,
devil’s walking stick, koshiabura and smilax. There’s some matcha salt on the side, or you can try
it with the regular dipping sauce. The sashimi is cherry bass29 and halfbeak. Try it with the ponzu.
For the grilled30 fish dish, I’ve gone with masu salmon31 in a miso marinade, together with some
simmered young bamboo. Firefly squid and wakame seaweed dressed with vinegared miso,
overnight Omi beef, and deep-fried chicken wing-tips. In that wooden bowl is an Asari clam32 and
bamboo shoot broth33. There’s bamboo shoots in the rice too, but I can serve you some plain white
rice if you’d prefer. There’s more of everything, so just let me know if you’d like seconds. Well,
tuck in!’
As Nagare spoke34, Hisahiko’s eyes darted35 left, right, up and down as he took in the array of
dishes, nodding all the while.
‘This is quite a feast! I don’t even know where to start.’
Turning to face him again, Tae said, ‘I should warn you—’ but Hisahiko finished her sentence
for her:
‘I get it. Not every restaurant in Kyoto is like this – this place is special. Right?’ He smiled at
Tae, then began by reaching towards the Omi beef with his chopsticks.
‘I see you’ve got the message.’
‘Wow,’ said Hisahiko, closing his eyes as he slowly savoured the rich umami of the meat. ‘So
tender. Really melts in your mouth.’
‘That’ll be because I stewed37 it for so long,’ said Nagare, watching approvingly. ‘Hope you
enjoy the meal. When you’re done, my daughter here will give you a brief interview about the dish
you’re looking for.’
‘I’ll leave the teapot here – just let me know if you’d like any more,’ said Koishi, following
Nagare into the kitchen.
Hisahiko reached for the bowl of broth, took a sip, and let out a sigh. Next he pressed a piece of
wild vegetable tempura into the matcha salt and took a bite. The crunch38 was audible across the
restaurant. Then he dipped the extra-thin slice of cherry bass sashimi in the ponzu and placed it on
his tongue.
‘Incredible flavour. I’m guessing the fish is from the Inland Sea . . .’ said Hisahiko to himself,
though he seemed to be waiting for Tae’s reaction.
‘The Uwa Bay, I believe,’ murmured Tae without turning around.
‘I see. No wonder it tastes so good,’ said Hisahiko, his mouth now stuffed with bamboo shoot
rice.
He must have been pretty hungry, because in no time at all, he had demolished40 each of the
remaining dishes – the grilled fish, deep-fried chicken wing-tips, simmered bamboo, and the miso-
dressed squid – leaving only the empty green bamboo basket.
‘How was that, then?’ asked Nagare, arriving at Hisahiko’s side with a Mashiko-ware41 earthen
teapot.
‘Oh, exquisite,’ replied Hisahiko, a smile spreading across his face. ‘I mean, when a
connoisseur42 like Akane raves43 about somewhere, you know you’re in for a treat, but still . . .’
‘Glad to hear it. Here – let me pour you some coarse green tea,’ said Nagare, swapping44 the Kyo-
ware teapot for the Mashiko one. When you’ve had a sip of that, give me a shout and I’ll show
you to the office.’
‘Nagare, I’m ready for that mochi, if you could bring it over?’ said Tae.
‘Of course. I hope you like it wrapped in cherry leaves. I suppose you’d like your matcha tea
nice and strong, as usual?’
‘Well, if it’s sakura-mochi you’re serving me, it might be best to brew45 it a little weaker than
usual.’
‘Let me guess – because the mochi isn’t actually that sweet?’
‘Exactly.’
Once Nagare and Tae had finished their exchange, Hisahiko got to his feet, rubbing his
stomach. ‘Thank you for the food. I can make my own way to the office – I can see you’re busy in
here. Through that door on the left and straight down the corridor, is it? Akane told me all about it.
I should be fine.’
‘If you’re sure. Koishi will be waiting for you in there!’ said Nagare, gesturing towards the
door.
‘Oh, don’t worry about me, Nagare,’ said Tae. ‘There’s no rush – go ahead and show him the
way!’
‘I think I’m old enough to find my way down a corridor, thank you! Enjoy the rest of your
meal.’ Stifling46 a burp, Hisahiko opened the door at the back of the restaurant.
Pinned to the walls on either side of the long corridor was a vast array of photographs. A few were
of people, but the majority were of food. In particular, Hisahiko found his gaze drawn towards
those featuring meat dishes. He took a couple of paces, then stopped, before advancing and then
stopping once more, repeating this procedure until eventually he found himself knocking on the
door. A plate was fastened to it that read: Kamogawa Detective Agency.
‘Please, come on in,’ said Koishi, opening the door from inside as if she’d been waiting for this
cue.
‘Hello again,’ said Hisahiko, sitting in the middle of the black sofa.
Koishi sat down opposite him, then placed a clipboard on the low table between them. ‘Could
you fill this out for me?’
‘This is all very formal,’ said Hisahiko, smiling with one cheek again as he gripped the pen.
‘Well, you’re here on Akane’s recommendation, and we already have your card,’ said Koishi
guardedly. ‘So I suppose you can just write your telephone number if you like.’
Without a moment’s hesitation47, Hisahiko scribbled48 away with his pen, and in less than a minute
had handed the clipboard back to her.
‘Hisahiko Tsuda. Thirty-three. Art Tower Residence, Roppongi Hills . . . Sounds like a pretty
fancy place to live!’ said Koishi with a sigh.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I host a lot of company events in the evenings, so it often feels
more like an office. Though it’s on the thirty-ninth floor, so at least the views are decent.’
‘Thirty-ninth floor? We don’t have anything that tall in Kyoto!’
‘That’s probably why the city still looks so beautiful,’ said Hisahiko, glancing out of the
window. ‘I was born on a small island out in the sticks, so I find it easier to relax in places like this
than Tokyo.’
‘Which island was that, then?’
‘Toyoshima. In the Inland Sea.’ Hisahiko crossed his long legs.
‘Whereabouts exactly?’
‘You know Kure, near Hiroshima?’
‘Yes, vaguely,’ replied Koishi, imagining a map of the area in her head.
‘Near there. There’s a bridge linking it to the mainland now, but when I was growing up there
you had to take a ferry.’ A brooding look had come across Hisahiko’s face.
‘Is that where the dish you’re looking for is from?’ asked Koishi, cutting to the chase.
‘Yes. It’s the nikujaga stew36 I had when I was little,’ said Hisahiko, leaning forward.
‘What kind of nikujaga are we talking?’ asked Koishi, jotting49 something down in her notebook.
‘I don’t remember,’ said Hisahiko, his voice fading slightly. ‘All I can tell you is that it was my
mother who made it for me.’
‘You don’t remember at all?’
‘No.’
‘Oh dear. That doesn’t give us much to go on. Can’t you think of anything that might help?’
‘My mother died from an illness when I was five, but just before that we moved from
Toyoshima to a place called Kojima in Okayama prefecture. I can remember things pretty well
after that, but those early years in Toyoshima are all a bit of a blur50 . . .’
‘Your mother passed away twenty-eight years ago, then?’ asked Koishi, still scribbling51 away.
‘I have vague memories of playing with her, bath-time, exploring the island together, but I can’t
remember a thing about how her cooking tasted. All I know is that I loved it.’
‘What did your parents do for a living?’ asked Koishi, probing for some kind of clue.
‘They ran a warehousing company. Dad was always boasting about how our family was the best
off on the island. It’s true that we lived comfortably – but then again, it was a pretty small island,’
replied Hisahiko, his eyes downcast.
‘Did they keep that up after you moved to Okayama?’ asked Koishi, peering intently at
Hisahiko.
‘Yes, they took the company with them, but it went bust52 two years later. Later my father told
me it was my mother’s mounting medical costs that prevented them from properly investing in the
business.’
‘Was it a lengthy illness, then?’
‘Five years she fought it. It turned out to be incurable53.’ Hisahiko’s voice had dropped to a
murmur39.
‘Must have been tough on your father, too.’
‘Oh, he managed just fine. Actually, he got married again less than a year after she passed away.
To the woman who looked after my mother at the hospital, no less.’ A frosty smile had risen to
Hisahiko’s lips.
‘I guess he thought a young child like you needed a mother figure.’
‘But she was her carer! And then one day I was expected to call her my mother . . . Not to
mention the fact that I’d suddenly gained a sister seven years my senior.’
‘Could I get everyone’s names?’
‘My father was Hisanao, and my mother, Kimie. My stepmother’s name is Sachiko. And Miho
is my stepsister.’ Hisahiko spoke in an entirely54 businesslike tone, watching Koishi’s hand as she
wrote.
‘And what are they all up to these days?’
‘My father died the spring I finished primary school,’ continued Hisahiko, his gaze dropping to
the low table in front of him. ‘I spent the next six years of middle and high school living with my
stepmother and her daughter. I was the interloper in their happy family, see? Oh, I hated it. As
soon as I finished school, I ran away from home, swapping Okayama for Tokyo.’
‘So you were eighteen when you left home. And it’s been—’ Koishi counted on her fingers ‘—
fifteen years since then.’
‘I’ve been so focused on getting ahead that they’ve flown by.’
Koishi stopped writing. ‘So you’ve made it all the way from Okayama to Tokyo. You’re a
hugely successful businessman. Why the sudden desire for nikujaga?’
‘Well, it has to do with an interview I’ve agreed to. Are you familiar with the women’s
magazine Enchant55?’
‘Oh, of course. Actually, I’m a bit of a fan,’ said Koishi, leaning forward eagerly. ‘It’s
practically written for thirty-somethings like me. Let me guess – they’re featuring you in the Men
Who’ve Made It section . . .’
‘That’s right. The interview is next month. They want to ask about all sorts. The secret to my
success, my daily routine these days – and there’s a part where I have to talk about a dish my
mother used to make for me.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Koishi, scribbling away again. ‘They always have that bit about men craving56
their mother’s cooking.’
‘So I asked myself if there was a dish like that, and the first thing that came to mind was her
nikujaga stew.’ Hisahiko’s voice was tinged57 with sadness.
‘Even though you couldn’t remember what the stew was like, or how it tasted?’ asked Koishi, a
sceptical look on her face.
‘All I knew was that if I ever had a comfort food, that was it,’ said Hisahiko, pursing his lips.
‘But . . . you don’t remember it,’ said Koishi, leaning back on the sofa.
‘I do know that I liked it. And I have this vague sense that it was much redder than usual
nikujaga, for some reason. That’s about it, though. But there is another version of the stew that I
do remember quite clearly,’ said Hisahiko, furrowing58 his brow.
‘Another version?’ asked Koishi, leaning forward and grabbing her pen.
‘It was the spring holidays just after I’d finished middle school. I’d gone to register at my new
high school, and by the time I got home Sachiko had already made dinner. She’d gone out
somewhere with Miho, and when I wandered into the kitchen I found two pots of nikujaga sitting
there.’
‘Two pots?’ asked Koishi in an intrigued59 voice.
‘I tried them both – and they tasted completely different,’ said Hisahiko glumly60. ‘One of them
was much tastier than the nikujaga I was used to. It was filled with cuts of beef. That was Sachiko
and Miho’s stew. Mine was the other one, which had no meat in it. But when she served it, there
was some meat in there. I guess she lost her nerve and added it at the last minute . . .’
‘I’m sure she just used two pots because it wouldn’t all fit in one,’ said Koishi, as if trying to
console him.
‘No,’ said Hisahiko, pursing his lips again in displeasure. ‘Even at that age, I could easily taste
the difference. I was furious they’d been deceiving me like that . . . Treating me that way, just
because I wasn’t related to them by blood – can you imagine!’
‘Oh, dear . . .’ Koishi seemed a little lost for words.
‘That was when I made my decision. I’d leave home and make my own fortune. And then, one
day, I’d get my own back on those two . . .’ Hisahiko was clenching61 his fists.
‘Still, you don’t remember a thing about the stew your mother used to make,’ said Koishi,
frowning. ‘This is going to be a bit of a challenge.’
‘I don’t suppose this’ll help much, but as I said, we lived quite comfortably on Toyoshima, so I
reckon she used high-quality meat,’ said Hisahiko, sitting up straight. ‘All I can remember is my
father saying, “Most people don’t get to eat this kind of meat, son!”’
‘But the seasoning62 is the most important part. If we don’t know that, then it doesn’t matter how
good the meat was . . .’ Koishi flicked63 through the pages of her notebook, a troubled expression on
her face.
‘There is one other thing . . .’ said Hisahiko, hesitantly.
‘What?’ asked Koishi, looking intently at him.
‘Well, for some reason, whenever I try to remember my mother’s nikujaga, I think of
mountains.’
‘Mountains? Nikujaga and . . . mountains. Hmm . . .’ said Koishi, folding her arms and gazing
up at the ceiling.
Hisahiko seemed to gather himself slightly. ‘I was only five, remember.’
‘High-quality meat, and mountains. That’s really not a lot to go on if we’re to try and recreate
the dish . . .’ sighed Koishi.
‘If it really is hopeless, I do have a back- up,’ said Hisahiko. There was something
confrontational64 about his gaze.
‘Back-up?’
‘I’m thinking of going to Yoshimi Tateno – you know, the famous celebrity65 chef. You might
have seen him on television? They call him the prince of modern Japanese cuisine66. He’s a friend
of mine,’ said Hisahiko proudly. ‘I’m sure he’ll know just how to use the finest ingredients in
order to recreate that stew from my childhood.’
Though irritated, Koishi remained silent. Out of consideration for Nagare’s feelings, she
decided67 not to record this last piece of information in the notebook.
‘And how are your mother and sister these days?’
‘I went back to Kojima for my coming-of-age ceremony. That was the last time I set foot in that
house.’
‘So you haven’t seen them in thirteen years.’
‘Indeed. Nor do I feel any need to,’ said Hisahiko disdainfully.
‘Right then. Well, we’ll do our best,’ said Koishi, shutting her notebook.
‘The interview is next month. If it turns out to be beyond your abilities, please do let me know
as soon as possible, and I can move on to my back-up,’ said Hisahiko, rising to his feet.
Hisahiko was familiar with the building’s layout by now. He strolled back down the corridor and
opened the door to the restaurant.
‘Finished already?’ asked Nagare, hastily folding up the newspaper he’d been reading.
‘Yes. Your daughter has all the details,’ said Hisahiko, glancing over his shoulder at Koishi,
who had followed him back into the restaurant.
‘We’ll recreate your dish as soon as possible,’ said Nagare, getting to his feet and bowing.
‘Let me know once you do,’ said Hisahiko, returning the bow. ‘I’ll be here right away.’
‘But aren’t you a very busy man?’
‘I’ve got plenty of talented people working for me. I might look busy, but I actually have all the
time in the world,’ grinned Hisahiko. ‘I’ve been known to pitch up in Kyoto just for a bowl of
black soy sauce ramen.’
‘Well, I’ll try not to let Akane down,’ said Nagare, smiling back.
Koishi listened silently to this exchange between the two, then slid the door to the restaurant
open.
‘I’m counting on you!’ said Hisahiko, making his way outside. As he did so, Drowsy68 came
rushing over.
‘Hey, you’ll get his suit dirty!’ said Koishi, scooping69 the tabby up in her arms.
Taking no notice of the cat, Hisahiko strolled off down Shomen-dori.
‘Shouldn’t you have talked to him a bit more?’ said Koishi once they were back inside. ‘This is
definitely a tough one, Dad.’ She gave Nagare a worried look.
‘What’s the dish?’ asked Nagare, settling on one of the folding chairs.
‘Nikujaga,’ replied Koishi, sitting down opposite him.
‘Ah, just as I thought. The way his mother used to cook it before she passed away, if I’m not
mistaken?’ said Nagare with a confident smile.
‘How did you know?’
‘See, Akane got in touch about a month ago with a request. Asked me to look into a man by the
name of Hisahiko Tsuda. Wanted to know if he’d be a decent person to work for. So I’ve done
some digging on him already, you see. Where he was born, what his childhood was like, what his
work involves – that kind of thing.’ Nagare got a folder70 out from the cupboard.
‘So that sudden trip to Tokyo – that was to meet Akane, was it?’ asked Koishi in a low voice.
‘Couldn’t leave her in the lurch71, could I? She sounded desperate on the phone,’ said Nagare,
glancing through the folder.
‘Dad?’ said Koishi. Her expression was serious.
Nagare looked up at her. ‘What?’
‘. . . Oh, it’s nothing.’ Koishi glanced away, then got to her feet.
‘You’re a funny one,’ said Nagare, still thumbing through the folder.
‘Hey, Dad, remind me,’ asked Koishi, changing the topic. ‘What was Mum’s nikujaga like?’
‘Oh, just your regular stew, really. Chunks72 of beef, onions, carrots and konnyaku noodles. Irish
Cobbler potatoes. Kikuko made the broth slightly sweeter than usual.’ Nagare’s hands had stopped
moving, and a distant look had come over his face.
‘Sounds just like your version!’ smiled Koishi.
‘I suppose it does.’ Nagare shut the folder and turned his attention to the scribblings in Koishi’s
notebook.
‘Mr Tsuda reckoned his mother used some kind of premium73 meat. Apparently74 they were quite
wealthy in those days,’ said Koishi, her nostrils75 flaring76 with distaste. ‘I have to say, Dad, I’m not a
huge fan of this guy.’
‘Well, we’ve taken the job now. It doesn’t matter whether we like him,’ replied Nagare firmly,
his eyes still glued to the notebook.
‘Oh, that’s supposed to be a mountain, by the way,’ said Koishi, pointing to a sketch77 in the
corner of one page. It looked a little like Mount Fuji.
‘A mountain? Hmm . . . Right, I think I’m off to Okayama,’ said Nagare, unfolding a map.
‘Okayama? But the stew is from when he lived on that island near Hiroshima!’
‘Oh, I’ll go there too. But the first port of call is definitely Okayama,’ said Nagare, pointing to
the city on the map.
‘If you say so! Bring me back some kibi-dango dumplings, would you?’ said Koishi, patting her
father on the shoulder.
点击
收听单词发音
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descend
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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isolated
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lengthy
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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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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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pointed
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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underneath
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12
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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13
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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14
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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16
dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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18
gourmet
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| n.食物品尝家；adj.出于美食家之手的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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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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viable
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| adj.可行的，切实可行的，能活下去的 | |
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22
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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23
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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24
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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26
foraged
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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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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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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clam
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| n.蛤，蛤肉 | |
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broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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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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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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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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stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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raves
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| n.狂欢晚会( rave的名词复数 )v.胡言乱语( rave的第三人称单数 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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swapping
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| 交换，交换技术 | |
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brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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46
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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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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jotting
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| n.简短的笔记，略记v.匆忙记下( jot的现在分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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51
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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52
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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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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enchant
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| vt.使陶醉，使入迷；使着魔，用妖术迷惑 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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57
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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furrowing
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的现在分词 ) | |
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intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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glumly
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| adv.忧郁地，闷闷不乐地；阴郁地 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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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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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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confrontational
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| adj.挑衅的；对抗的 | |
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celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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66
cuisine
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| n.烹调，烹饪法 | |
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67
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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69
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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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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71
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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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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73
premium
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| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
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74
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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75
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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76
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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