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Famous Asako Yuzuki Quotes

“Pleasantly full as she was, Rika felt like crying. She might dine with someone, but at the end of the meal they would go their separate ways. She couldn’t stay with that person forever. Even with her stomach full of warmth and the taste of delicious food lingering on her tongue, she remained alone. It didn’t matter who she had for company. She was beginning to understand that the more delicious the time she spent with others, the more alone she felt.”

LonelinessFoodButter
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“At the end of The Story of Little Babaji they make pancakes out of the tigers that have transformed into butter, and eat them. I think they mix the tiger-butter into the batter. Or put it on top. Maybe they even melt it in the frying pan.' But Rika's words got lost amid the sound of the pancake mix being poured into the pan. She heard the noise of the pancake being flipped and sticking again to the pan. After a while, Makoto came over with a plate in his hand. The perfectly round, golden brown pancake was steaming, the maple syrup shining, and the knob of butter on top beginning to melt. She brought her hands together, and said, 'Itadakimasu.' With a fork, Rika broke off a small piece of the pancake, revealing its bright yellow insides. The way that the batter with its structure of fine air bubbles and countless little pillars supported the surface layer, burnished to a deep brown, was proof that it had been well mixed. The butter slid around sluggishly. Rika put a tiny sliver into her mouth. She instructed her teeth to bite, and with some effort, succeeded in moving her mouth, chewing the soft, warm pancake into which the salted butter and syrup had been absorbed.”

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“The mochi gradually began to take on color and swell out. When their skin seared with brown grill marks started to split open, revealing glimpses of their sparkling white insides, Rika took them out of the toaster. She perched a generous wedge of butter on top of each, and prepared the sugared soy sauce in a small dish. Watching as the molten butter flowed gently over both the burnished surface and the soft white interior, her stomach rumbled. Though she knew it was bad manners to eat standing up, she stuffed one of the mochi in her mouth right there at the counter. The heady aroma that rose up through her nose, the crispiness of the skin as it broke open beneath her teeth, the silkiness of the gooey insides that spread themselves flat across every bit of flesh in her mouth and refused to let go... The hot butter fused the sugar and soy sauce together, clinging to the sweet, soft, shapeless mass in her mouth, swimming around its outside as though to ascertain its contours. The grease of the butter melded with the grit of the sugar and the pungent soy sauce. By the time she'd finished chewing, the roots of her teeth were trembling pleasurably.”

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“Just as the two of them finished their plump white asparagus spears in white sauce, they were served a selection of grilled vegetables. To think that onions could become so sweet and rich simply by grilling them! Rika had never been a fan of shishito peppers, but the ones on the plate in front of her were fragrant, with a gentle taste. Before she knew it, she'd devoured many more vegetables than she had the other night in that Japanese bistro, just a few dozen meters from here. She was fairly sure that the red meat being cooked on a section of the hotplate not far from where they were sitting was for them. Eventually, clear juice began oozing from its surface. Even the smell of the melting fat was appealing and mild--- not aggressive or meaty. She watched transfixed as the red turned to pale pink, as the white fat grew translucent. The meat was cut up and served to them in pieces. Rika imagined it would be steaming hot, but when she brought one of the chunks to her lips, she found it to be just the right temperature. The comfort it brought was that of a warm, affectionate tongue entering her mouth. When she bit into the aromatic seared surface of the meat, the juice from the moist, rare sections came seeping out, making the lining of her cheeks tremble. A blood-colored filament flickered across her vision. 'Apparently the garlic-butter rice here is truly out of this world. They use plenty of butter, as well as the leftover meat juices.' Rika was looking at the rice cooking on the hotplate as she spoke. Cloaked in their mantle of amber butter, the grains shimmied and danced before her eyes. There was a sizzle as the chef poured on some soy sauce, and then the short, spirited tango was over. Bowls of the glistening bronze rice appeared before them. Swathed in meat juice and butter, each and every grain shone potently. The rich, heady aroma of the soy sauce stoked Rika's appetite. The garlic singed to a deep brown unleashed a perilous bitterness and astringency across her palate. Slippery with fat, the rice slid across the plane of her tongue and down her throat. The meat she'd eaten before had been fantastically flavorsome, but this rice that had absorbed its juices was truly formidable in its taste. With each movement of her jaw, she felt a new lease of power surging up her body. The sense of fullness brought on a comfortable lethargy, and Rika felt she could happily drop off right at that moment.”

VegetablesSteakButterSavoryFried RiceSirloin
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“The only garnish for the noodles was sesame and spring onions. The two perfect squares of butter on top were already beginning to lose their shape in the clear broth, their outlines blurring messily. Beneath them floated the crinkled noodles with their strong yellow hue. Dissolved in the soup, the butter formed golden circles on its surface. Rika deliberately passed the noodles through those circles on their way to her mouth. The taste of lye water was a little strong, but they weren't badly cooked, and retained their bite. She sipped the soup. Against the faint chicken base of the stock she could detect the flavor of bonito. The broth was hot but it slipped down easily, lubricating her painfully dry throat. Alone, the cheap butter had an overly milky tang, but in combination with the noodles and the soup, its flavor grew golden and staked its territory, with a kind of violence. A certain depth of flavor began to assert itself, and as the droplets plummeted to the centre of her body, its arc of influence expanded. The back of her nose grew hot, and she reached for the tissue box on the counter. Feeling the moisture flowing, she blew her nose loudly. A film of butter was forming across her insides. The hot broth and the hot noodles were more assertive, more forceful than Makoto's warmth and smell. As she raised them to her mouth alternately, Rika's body regained more and more of its heat and softness. She was already warmer than she had been back in the hotel room.”

ButterRamenAfterglowAfter Sex
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“She took a knifeful of the butter clinging to the silver paper, so soft it offered virtually no resistance, and dropped it into the holes in the potatoes' skins. It was absorbed mercilessly fast by the granules inside, which soon took on a yellow hue. Rika sprinkled on a few drops of soy sauce, then pressed her hands together. 'Itadakimasu,' she said, and tucked in to the potatoes with a fork. The hot potatoes engorged with butter crumbled apart in her mouth and the steam rose up to the back of her throat. Inside her mouth, the mixture transformed into a smooth-textured cream, heavy and rich, which spread out hotly across her tongue. The Sado was relatively light in its taste, but had the same warmth and body as the other dairy products she'd sampled in Niigata. The soy sauce drew out the sweetness and texture of the potatoes, and the hand with which Rika held her fork moved incessantly. The next thing she knew, the two potatoes had disappeared, along with almost all of the butter. She lay down, a delicious sated feeling in her stomach. She had managed to soothe herself, and of that she felt proud.”

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“She melted the butter in the pan. She warmed the egg yolks by immersing them in a bowl of hot water and mixing them with vinegar, then pouring in the shining golden butter little by little. She moved the whisk ceaselessly, making the contents of the bowl whirl round and round. Having observed Chizu's troubles up close, and learned how to avoid them, she succeeded in producing the fine egg-colored foam relatively quickly. Her whole hand, from the wrist down, was dancing on a waltz. The tigers in the book, whose desires had kept them spinning round and round until they transformed into butter, had ended up in the stomachs of Little Babaji's family. Even after their deaths, Kajii's victims continued to be exposed to and consumed by the curious gaze of the general public. Rika had stopped believing that any blame lay with the victims themselves. Being sucked into the vortex of Kajii's ominous power, like she herself had been, was something that could happen to anybody. Thinking this, she went on single-mindedly whisking the butter. Through her adventures with the quatre-quarts on Valentine's Day, she'd learned that waiting on the far side of all of this seemingly endless whisking was not stasis or evaporation, but emulsification. If she couldn't tear her eyes away from Kajii, if she couldn't stop herself from spinning round and round, then maybe all that was left to do was to grip on to Kajii with all her might, so as to ensure she wasn't shaken off. 'Done!' Rika said to herself and lifted up the whisk. The sauce of warm, bright yellow that came dripping off the whisk was smooth as cashmere.”

ManipulateVictimsButterBook TitleRound And RoundLured In
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“She took the butter from its box and opened up its foil wrapper. It was hard and cold. She didn't want to create more washing-up than necessary and she still hadn't located a chopping board, so she sliced it on top of the paper and placed it on the scale. There was a tiny fragment left over on the knife, which she raised to her mouth. The lack of salt meant it coasted across her tongue like a placid midwinter wave, leaving her with an impression of silkiness and concentrated fat.”

TasteButterBook Title
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“She floated unsteadily over to the dairy section, and found her eyes immediately directed to the small packet with its crisp navy logo exerting enough power to eclipse all the other products around it. To think that a regular supermarket such as this one would stock Échiré butter! Checking the price, she saw it was less than a thousand yen. Not just that, either, but there was a whole assortment of different kinds of butter filling the display: cultured, aged, salted, unsalted... Until just a few months ago, it was difficult to find. Things changed at such speed. For a while, Rika stood still, bathing in the white light of the dairy section.”

ButterBook TitleAvailable Now
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“The first thing Rika felt was a strange breeze emanating from the back of her throat. The cold butter first met the roof of her mouth with a chilly sensation, contrasting with the steaming rice in both texture and temperature. The cool butter clashed against her teeth, and she felt its soft texture right down into their roots. Soon enough, just as Kaiji had said, the melted butter began to surge through the individual grains of rice. It was a taste that could only be described as golden. A shining golden wave, with an astounding depth of flavor and a faint yet full and rounded aroma, wrapped itself around the rice and washed Rika's body far away. It was, indeed, a lot like falling. Rika stared down intently at the bowl of rice with butter and soy sauce and let out a long sigh, feeling her breath rich and milky.”

RiceFlavorsButterUmami
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“Fish roe and butter makes for a truly exquisite pairing! By adding butter to pollock roe, with its clusters of firm little orbs just like miniature egg yolks, you take away any unpleasant fishiness from the roe, instead producing a sauce with an inexplicable fullness of taste that forms a perfect coating for the carbohydrates, setting off their plumpness and texture like a dream. Perhaps best of all is the pretty pink hue of the roe, like a gorgeous spring evening (you may know by now that pink is my favorite color!). The butter and rosy-colored roe combination coats each and every spaghetti strand, bringing out that delicious semolina scent and generating a flavor that feels like a wave of kindness rising up uncontrollably from inside your chest.”

ButterCaviarPinkFood CombiningArticle
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“I'm no expert when it comes to confectionery, but I understand that unsalted butter is used as standard in baking. By contrast, the West buttercream uses salted butter. That salinity really brings out the overall sweetness of the cake, adding depth to its richness. The sponge has a satisfying density to it, declaring itself roughly on the tongue, scented like eggs and flour. The Christmas cakes I've eaten up until now have all been shortcakes, and it's always seemed to me that the delicate, fluffy whipped cream and the sweet sourness of the strawberries obliterate the aroma and the texture of the sponge.”

FlavorsButterTastesButtercreamChristmas Cake
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“The butter should still be cold. Remove it from the fridge just before. Superior-quality butter should be eaten when it's still cold and hard, to truly luxuriate in its texture and aroma. It will begin to melt almost immediately with the heat of the rice, but I want you to eat it before it melts fully. Cool butter and warm rice. First of all, savor the difference in their temperatures. Then, the two will melt alongside one another, mingle together, and form a golden fountain, right there inside your mouth. Even without seeing it, you just know that it's golden--- that's the way it tastes. You'll sense the individual grains of rice coated in butter and aromatic fragrance as if the rice were being fried will ascend to your nose. A rich, milky sweetness will spread itself across your tongue...”

RiceButterBook TitleHow To Eat
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“The dusky-pink pollock roe she removed from its polystyrene packaging gleamed wetly and, for an instant, the image of Kaiji's puckered lips passed through her mind. Leaving its outer skin on, she broke up the roe with a fork and mixed it unfussily into the spaghetti. She sliced off a knob of the Calpis with a knife and perched it on top, then watched as the pale-yellow solid gently began to change color, spreading out to the sides and turning golden, mingling with the fish eggs. The full, milky aroma of the butter married with the salty marine tang of the roe as the scent of the dish went rising up to her face, and she breathed it deeply into her lungs. She garnished the pasta with a scattering of shiso leaves she'd torn up with her fingers, then moved the bowl of pasta over to her cardboard box. There was a rosy-cheeked frankness about the pink of the roe, and in combination with the oozing butter, it looked positively carefree. Rika tool up her fork and wound up the spaghetti, before lifting it to her mouth. Cloaked in a coating of minuscule fish eggs and butter, the spaghetti strands sprang around Rika's tongue as if in excitement. The dish was adequately salted, but there was a relaxed, mellow quality to its taste. What a wonderful combination pollock roe and butter made!”

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