日報

Something I haven't understood since I was a child is which is higher, "Matsu," "Take," or "Ume" (Pine, Bamboo, Plum).

Even as an adult, if I don't stop and think for a moment, I can't remember if pine or plum is superior.

Pine and plum both seem to be of similar standing, so I can't really picture a hierarchy.

I've tried to remember it by thinking "Matsu is higher, so I'll remember it as 'Matsu-san is superior'," but then the next time I need to recall it might be years later, and I get confused whether I remembered "Matsu-san is superior" or "Ume-san is superior."

And though it might seem unrelated to this topic, I'm also not convinced that bamboo is in the middle. Bamboo grows straight and tall, and if anything, I feel like it would lean more towards being at the top or the bottom.

If it were ordered by height, wouldn't bamboo be at the very front as a small shoot, or at the very back when fully grown?

Even though the Matsu-Take-Ume ranking has always perplexed me like this, when I looked it up, the origin was surprisingly simple.

Apparently, in the Edo period, restaurants started using the auspicious terms Matsu, Take, and Ume to make ordering easier, avoiding expressions like "special," "superior," and "regular."

I see. So the ambiguity was intentional.

Even "special, superior, regular" was an effort to avoid simply saying "superior, middle, inferior." It's more about variations than hierarchy.

It makes sense that business people would innovate to make customers feel comfortable choosing. I realize that this kind of sentiment doesn't change, no matter the era.

In the end, I still don't think I'll ever truly know which is higher, Matsu, Take, or Ume.

kikkake's web store celebrated its first anniversary on April 18th.

It was a year that flew by.

After launching the web store, I would pack and ship orders, film for YouTube, photograph dishes, and prepare products for sale.

I had the feeling that a year had passed before I knew it, just by tackling each task day by day.

I had thought the anniversary was coming up, but when I checked again today, I found it was April 18th, and I had carelessly overlooked it.

Counting these daily posts, it's already 232 times. I was a little surprised to realize how many weekdays there are in a year.

Over this past year, we've received orders from so many people.

It made me very happy and grateful that people chose our products, even though we had just launched.

I've been carefully packing and shipping each order, hoping that it reaches its destination safely.

As we head into our second year, I hope to continue to thoughtfully introduce kitchen tools and dishes, so we can deliver a "kikkake" (spark/opportunity) that makes cooking and meals even more enjoyable.

With Golden Week starting this weekend, we are also planning a small giveaway. I hope you'll look forward to it.

Thank you for your continued support of kikkake.

Prices are high.

How many times have I heard that phrase? It feels like it's said as often as discussing the weather with someone in an elevator.

When I casually picked out lunch at the convenience store, the total came to 1,300 yen. I thought it must be a mistake.

I still remember when gas was in the double digits, so I was shocked when I first saw it priced at 200 yen.

Suddenly, I wondered how much it would cost to go to Hawaii now, so I checked a travel website. I searched for a 3-night, 5-day trip, staying at a standard hotel.

422,866 yen.

...Huh? That's more than I expected.

When I went a long time ago, I think it was around 120,000 yen. Considering the local prices, it would probably cost even more in reality.

It's really too expensive, so I looked for a slightly cheaper tour and found one for around 370,000 yen. Even that feels quite out of reach.

Well, at least I went to Hawaii in spirit.

Rice prices have dropped to about 3,800 yen for 5kg, so that's a small relief.

This is a story about the hair salon I used to go to.

It was a large salon with several branches, always busy, and I once had my hair cut by the representative.

The atmosphere was good, and the staff seemed to get along well with each other.

The representative would do anything himself when his assistants were busy, like sweeping up fallen hair, washing hair, handling payments, and answering the phone.

Even though there wasn't much verbal communication, their coordination was natural, and it was clear that the entire salon was running smoothly.

I vaguely thought that this is what makes a busy place busy.

After that, the salon became even more prosperous, and the representative's fee for a nominated haircut kept rising, so I eventually gave up going there.

Changing topics, this is a story about a Chinese restaurant I frequent.

This Chinese restaurant was recently selected for the first time as one of Tabelog's Top 100 Restaurants. It seems to be a family-run business, with about 4-5 people working there, but the atmosphere here is also excellent.

The chef and his younger brother (probably) are tossing the woks.

They are always smiling, never acting high and mighty, and both wash dishes and serve food when they have a free moment.

The younger brother's wife (probably), who serves the food, keeps a close eye on the flow of the entire restaurant, knowing who ordered what and what the current status is.

The younger brother's eldest son (probably), who recently started working there, is a bit awkward but quickly refills water glasses when they're empty, which I find quite nice.

The food is delicious, of course, and the atmosphere is good, and they are very attentive.

It's no surprise it was chosen as one of the Top 100 Restaurants.

Ultimately, I think successful businesses have this kind of natural coordination.

And I'm sure it's going to get even busier from now on.

I just can't remember the names of the different anmitsu-type desserts.

Mamekan.
Mitsumame.
Anmitsu.
Shiratamamitsu.
Cream Anmitsu.

I always get confused about which is which, and what the differences are.

Cream Anmitsu supposedly contains beans, agar, red bean paste, mochi balls, syrup, cream, and mandarin oranges.

At this point, I don't even know which is a higher or lower tier version of another, and if there's no photo on the menu, I'm too scared to order it.

When names like Ujikintoki Kakigori Cream Anmitsu, which sound like an elementary, middle, high school, and university all-in-one school, appear, I'm completely stumped.

And there's one more thing I've never understood.

Zenzai and Oshiruko.

I have no idea which is which, or what the difference is.

I looked it up, and apparently, the definitions are different in the Kanto and Kansai regions to begin with.

In Kanto, if it has liquid, it's oshiruko; if it doesn't, it's zenzai.
In Kansai, soup made with strained red bean paste is oshiruko, and soup made with whole red bean paste is zenzai.

Hmm, it's complicated.
It's complicated, but since it's delicious, I guess it's okay.

I'd really appreciate it if sweet shop menus came with pictures.

I usually write this daily entry either at night before bed or in the morning after waking up.

It's interesting how the atmosphere of the writing changes slightly, even for the same theme, depending on whether I write at night under artificial light or in the morning with the sunlight streaming in.

When I write at night, I tend to get a little sentimental. My pen flows easily, but the content often becomes self-indulgent.

I kind of understand why they say not to write love letters in the middle of the night. But then again, writing a love letter in the morning doesn't quite feel right either.

In the morning, I'm in a good mood, so I can think lightly, and my writing becomes a bit more positive.

Come to think of it, I've never tried writing during the day. Next time, I'll try writing in the afternoon to see which time suits me best.

...Having written all that, I think the conclusion is probably already decided.

For something you do every day, it's best to set a specific time for it. I should really decide on a time to write.