From the weird Japanese food files

As I’ve said here before, I think Japanese cuisine is the best in the world. People in this country are fascinated by food. They are really open minded about what to eat and will give almost anything a go. When you live here, it’s best to adopt the same mindset. I’ve come to love the fermented beans, the salty plums, and the devil’s-tongue jelly, to name but a few.
Please notice above the most recent addition to my weird food files: Hakone Black Eggs. They were a souvenir given to me by one of my students on her return from a trip to one of Japan’s most famous hot-spring resorts.
These are regular chicken eggs that are boiled in the naturally piping hot underground springs. The high sulphur content of the nearby lava and volcanic rock gives the shells their distinctive black colour.
The real kicker is that these are SOFT-boiled eggs! And they’re not refrigerated! And they’re good for two weeks! They’re a serious attack of salmonella waiting to happen, wouldn’t you think?
But ‘we’ Japanese don’t let such trifling matters stop us from getting our culinary groove on. Oh no!
A clear sign that I’ve assimilated: As soon as I got these puppies home I thought, “You know what’d make these soft-boiled eggs just perfect... if I wrapped them in dried seaweed and seasoned them with salad cream!” That’s to say I’ve either assimilated or I’m pregnant.
I lost my nerve momentarily when I cracked open the shell and the egg dropped onto the seaweed with a worrying, watery plop. But it was too late to turn back. And you know what? My little creation was gorgeous. I’m calling it ‘Scotch egg goes to the Orient’.
Final little fact for all you Trivial Pursuit fans: Did you know that Japan has the most hot-spring resorts of any country in the world, numbering about 10,000? In second place comes France with only three hundred and something.
Here in Japan the spas are the upside of living on a fault-line between tectonic plates. I’ve got to say, it’s meagre compensation for the threat of being plunged into some volcanic crevice at any moment.
P.S. If my sister is reading this she is probably clutching her knees and rocking back and forth in a traumatised state: Too many flashbacks of the guided tour from Hell. Big sis, I’m wearing my white gloves as I type.