Turning Japanese

Growing up, our meals were pretty boring (my father's experimentation with epicurian chaos theory notwithstanding.) Ever notice there's no such thing a restaurant offering Fine Dutch Cuisine? Stamppot. Herring. Patat Oorlog. There's a reason for that chasm in the dining landscape. Thankfully, the only one of those things we ate on a regular basis was staampot, and it's not actually as bad as it looks. (Though endive is not improved at all with cooking.)

In my kitchen, however, we offer a little more latitude, and it's a darn good thing. One morning about two months ago, my daughter woke up and she was Japanese. Not fully so, but enough that there is a bento box and some little pig and fish shaped dispenser bottles are winging their way here from Japan, via ebay. And tonight, she made this.
And Daniel's eating wasabi with a teaspoon.