Tokyo has a significant number of museums. Today we’re off to the Nezu Museum which I later discover is listed by Condé Nast and a few others as one of the top museums to see in Tokyo.
Luckily, one of us has had the foresight (not me) to get tickets in advance because not only is it cold today, but the line to get in, if you don’t already have a ticket, is very long.
With pre-purchased tickets we’re waved in – VIP style.
The Nezu has a lovely collection of Asian art – all premodern, all beautifully curated and presented.
The garden alone is worth the visit, though. I don’t love being outside in the cold, but this time, it was hard for me to go back inside.
Buddhas of every kind sit nestled between rocks and bamboo. A few sit right beside pathways with coin offerings in his hands.
Fat, old, angry, skinny Buddhas, a pretty Buddha and even a bear Buddha. See for yourself.
After being in the gardens and out in the cold, we treat ourselves to tea and cake. Desserts in Japan, I find, are not very sweet. Perfect for me since I don’t really like sweet things.
Naira, the concierge at our hotel, makes a reservation for us at a sushi restaurant called Sushino Ikumi. It’s only an eight minute walk away from where we’re staying.
We choose different set menus and wait to be served.
The chefs spoke little English but somehow, with the help of Google Translate, we’re able to understand each other. The senior chef especially has an abundance of good humor.
Towards the end of the meal, the waiter brings out a little plate with something that looks like a little piece of fried whipped cream. Looking sort of like a rose.
“What is it,” I ask.
“Milk,” he replies.
“Milk?”
“No, no! Not milk. Milt.”
The chef reaches across the counter and takes the plate. He cuts the milk/milt (??) in half and hands it back to us.
“You can try, too.” He points to me.
Neither of us has a clue what the server means and it shows because he quickly says, “Please. Wait a minute.”
He disappears behind the curtain.
At this point, my partner pops a piece of the fried rose/whipped-cream looking thing into his mouth.
“What is it?”
He shrugs.
“What does it taste like?” I ask again.
“It just sort of disappears in your mouth,” he says.
“Is it sweet or salty?”
“Salty!” He’s definitive.
The server emerges with his phone. Google Translate to the rescue.
He shows us the screen. And he’s right. It does say ‘milt’. We both look at each other and then at him.
“Milt?” I shake my head.
“Milt,” he says. “MILT. You don’t know milt?”
We both shake our heads. Nope! Never heard of milt.
The waiter looks disappointed.
I reach for my phone. I type in milt and I hit GO.
The American Heritage Dictionary says:
Milt /mĭlt/
The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition
Noun
Fish sperm, including the seminal fluid.
The reproductive glands of male fishes when filled with this fluid.
The male generative organ of a fish; the spermatic organ and its secretion; the soft roe, corresponding to the roe or spawn of the female. Sometimes melt.
I tell him and I through Google Translate, I tell the chefs. And we laugh and laugh.
The chef says to him “Is good, yes?”
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Were those two ladies laughing at you guys?
😆 I wondered the same thing when I saw the photo (lol) but they were a large party and having a good time. :))
Hahahahahahaha
Didn’t you try it?
Milt??! You don’t know milt??
No. :))
I didn’t want to be selfish and take half of what was meant for my dinner companion.