The promised baiu (early summer monsoon) has not yet appeared. Instead, outside in the world, a high-pressure system produced a sunny, big sky, 75 to 80 degree, blue and pink hydrangea-loving, sit on the front stoop and watch the school kids walk by while feeling pissy, nosh on pickles and drink beer kind of week.

Last night on the NHK cooking show a chef demonstrated how to make an “unrolled rolled omelet” (makenai dashi tamago maki), which is dashi stock, mirin, and light soy sauce mixed into eggs, which are slightly scrambled, and then piled into a rolling mat, rolled into a cylinder to firm up, and sliced to serve. Traditionally, these “grilled” omelets are made by slowly rolling the omelet in a square or rectangular pan, pouring raw egg layers little-by-little into the pan while lifting up the cooked part, turning the omelet until all the egg has been incorporated. When you slice the traditional version, the cross-section is a spiral of egg layers. The chef said of last night’s recipe: “This is the easy version.” I couldn’t see how his version was really that much more easy than the normal procedure. The “easy” omelet takes only a few minutes less to make, but results in the same amount of dirty dishes and pans. I prefer the more beautiful rolled omelet, the one where the layers of slightly caramelized egg swirl outwards and add a taste of roasted sweetness against the savory egg and dashi. There are both sweet and savory versions of this omelet, but both contain some sweetness (as in the recipe from last night, where the sweetness comes from mirin, a form of sweet sake).

There will be people happily embracing the easy omelet while I will sit paralyzed and ruminating on invention and tradition. I love humanity for the endless tinkering with the omelet. If there’s an omelet, we’ll reinvent it, transform it, and often make it better. I’m all for progress. But this is not progress in the Japanese classic tamago yaki. And so, after I try the recipe to confirm, I may reject the paradoxical unrolled rolled omelette. Easy doesn’t appeal to me as an aesthetic criteria for just about anything. In my extreme laziness, I often take the easy way, but I never think the path is the most beautiful or proper.

This same kind of thinking makes me suspicious of the sun this week. The rain is missing. Instead of enjoying it, I look up at the sky with sour anxiety. What kind of rainy season is this? How can I indulge myself in self-pity and missing my husband (out at sea for the next few months) when it’s so ridiculously nice out? On the other hand, I usually am happiest when it’s raining. I love the sound of water and the stillness of a rainy day. I can enjoy a good low in any weather, so why am I complaining?

Woke up this morning and drank my greenish tea, woke up this morning and drank down that greenish tea, the sun was a-shinin’ but the blues just won’t let me be.

Looked at my cookbooks, thought I’d entertain, yes, I looked at some recipes, thought I’d entertain, if I’m eating with my friends, I just might not feel my pain.

Baby has gone sailing, sailing off to sea, oh my baby has shipped out, rolling on the sea, he sends me daily emails, but my loneliness won’t let me be.

Think I’ll make a stirfry, a stirfry to entertain, a nice pork-myoga stirfry, easy stirfry to entertain. My baby is off working, “easy” may help me fake I’m sane.

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