^{Wrapped treats in Mitsuwa Market 2014} 

A couple of days ago, Michele and I went to the Mitsuwa Market for lunch. The Mitsuwa Market is the anchor of what seems to be a new Japanese shopping center. There are several Chinese shopping centers in the area and even more Chinese markets and we shop at them when we are in the area and want seafood, or some Chinese staples like fermented black beans , and there is a small Japanese market we frequent in San Mateo, but this is a much bigger deal.

^{Mitsuwa Market on Saratoga Avenue by 280}

I expected it to be similar to the various Chinese markets, but it couldn’t have been more different. Chinese markets are chaos incarnate and, without thinking about it, I thought the Japanese market would be the same. Mitsuwa Market is more like an art gallery crossed with a clean room. One thing that is the same is both are good places to buy rice, especially if you want it in the giant economy size (although you could argue that it is much easier to find in Mitsuwa).

Mitsuwa Market features Nishiki rice grown in California and this year’s crop just came in. California has been a major rice growing region for a long time, longer than I can remember. My dad used to tell a story about Governor Pat Brown – Jerry Brown’s father – the casual racism of the early 60’s, and California rice.

In 1962, Brown was running for reelection and he flew into an airport somewhere north of Sacramento. As I recall, his plane was a DC-3 and Brown was very proud of being the first state governor to have a plane. I think they used the plane to fly down the block, so the airport could have been pretty close to Sacramento. They flew in – they, because my dad was with Brown – to visit some rich farmers, talk about their needs, and get some campaign donations. When they got out of the plane, they were met by their hosts, a group of men; some were Europeans and some were Sikhs. Brown went over and shook hands with the white guys and climbed into their car and took off, leaving my dad to tour the farms – can a large rice-growing spread be called a farm? -with the Sikhs. As they drove around, my dad began to realize that the Sikhs were the owners – the rich farmers – and the white guys were the formen. He was in the wrong car and so was Brown. My dad loved that story, he loved that the Sikhs were the owners, and it is one of the reasons I love my dad.

Back at the markets, aside from the general aesthetics, the biggest difference is in the fish market area. In Mitsuwa, everything is individually sized and wrapped.

In Marina Market in Cupertino, it is sort of a mad house with salt water tanks stuffed full of lethargic fish, fish laid out on ice; fish parts abound.

My mother was somewhat of a Nipponophile, and wandering through Mitsuwa, I understand why. One of her favorite sayings was Cleanliness is next to Godliness, which – now that I think about it – is a little strange since she didn’t believe in God (although she wanted us to become Episcopalians because she thought it was socially advantageous). I think that she liked the ritual of going to church and the perceived status but she was careful to explain that, as hard as she tried, she didn’t believe in God (I remember her saying, more than once, that people who believed in God were happier). But Mom did believe in cleanliness and she did believe in order and Mitsuwa is all about cleanliness and order.

It also has an aesthetic that I think of as distinctly Japanese and that, to a certain extent, I grew up with. For some period of my growing up, it may have been as long as four years, when I was six to ten years old – it also could only been six months – I was very sickly with asthma and my mother took me to the doctor every week. The doctor – actually there were several of them – were in San Francisco and, after the appointment, we went out to lunch. My favorite lunch place was the Yamato Sukiyaki House.

At the same time, my mother was making a conscience effort to improve her sophistication, for lack of a better word (maybe exposure works better, or, since she never graduated from highschool, perhaps continued education would be even better). Often, after lunch, we would go to the de Young Museum. At that time, the de Young had a large Asian collection, that I think she liked better than the classical European works. After the museum, we would end the day at the Oriental Tea Garden where my mother would have tea and I would get a cookie. As an aside. The Oriental Tea Garden was originally the Japanese Tea Garden, but it was renamed, without being changed, during World War II (sort of like Freedom Fries). The name has now been changed back to the Japanese Tea Garden and, the last time I visited – maybe twenty five years ago – it seemed very touristy and dirty. However, I read that it has been remodeled and restored, I hope so, because I have very fond memories. End aside.

I think my mother would have enjoyed Mitsuwa Market, sure, it is a market and it is full of stuff they are trying to sell us, but it also has a Zen-like tranquility and minimalism (often with a nod to nature).

Outside, they even have a peaceful Zen garden – bizarrely done in concrete, but still… – and a not so peaceful Kawasaki superbike.