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Love at First Flight

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Christina Hill

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“Meanwhile, at a Tokyo 7-Eleven, someone right now is choosing from a variety of bento boxes and rice bowls, delivered that morning and featuring grilled fish, sushi, mapo tofu, tonkatsu, and a dozen other choices. The lunch philosophy at Japanese 7-Eleven? Actual food. On the day we missed out on fresh soba, Iris had a tonkatsu bento, and I chose a couple of rice balls (onigiri), one filled with pickled plum and the other with spicy fish roe. For $1.50, convenience store onigiri encapsulate everything that is great about Japanese food and packaging. Let's start in the middle and work outward, like were building an onion. The core of an onigiri features a flavorful and usually salty filling. This could be an umeboshi (pickled apricot, but usually translated as pickled plum), as sour as a Sour Patch Kid; flaked salmon; or cod or mullet roe. Next is the rice, packed lightly by machine into a perfect triangle. Japanese rice is unusual among staple rices in Asia because it's good at room temperature or a little colder. Sushi or onigiri made with long-grain rice would be a chalky, crumbly disaster. Oishinbo argues that Japan is the only country in Asia that makes rice balls because of the unique properties of Japanese rice. I doubt this. Medium- and short-grain rices are also popular in parts of southern China, and presumably wherever those rices exist, people squish them into a ball to eat later, kind of like I used to do with a fistful of crustless white bread. (Come on, I can't be the only one.) Next comes a layer of cellophane, followed by a layer of nori and another layer of cellophane. The nori is preserved in a transparent shell for the same reason Han Solo was encased in carbonite: to ensure that he would remain crispy until just before eating. (At least, I assume that's what Jabba the Hutt had in mind.) You pull a red strip on the onigiri packaging, both layers of cellophane part, and a ready-to-eat rice ball tumbles into your hand, encased in crispy seaweed. Not everybody finds the convenience store onigiri packaging to be a triumph. "The seaweed isn't just supposed to be crunchy," says Futaki in Oishinbo: The Joy of Rice. "It tastes best when the seaweed gets moist and comes together as one with the rice." Yamaoka agrees. Jerk. Luckily, you'll find a few moist-nori rice balls right next to the crispy ones.”

“At Iris's direction, we enjoyed all sorts of skewered bits. While most yakitori places serve various cuts of chicken and a few vegetables, the menu at Yakitorino was all over the place, and nearly everything was good: breaded and fried beef cubes on a stick; fried lotus root; pork jowl with miso; shishitō peppers. But Iris and Laurie's single favorite dish at Yakitorino was neither meat nor vegetable and was not served on a stick. "If you'd really left the ordering up to me," Iris said to me recently, "we would have had nothing but yaki onigiri." Yaki onigiri are plain, triangular rice balls (no fillings or nori wrapper) cooked on a hot charcoal grill and brushed with soy sauce or miso. The sauce on the outside caramelizes as the rice becomes charred and crispy and gives off an aroma of popcorn. The interior of the ball heats up and drinks in just a hint of sauce. It is a riot of flavor and texture made with two completely ordinary ingredients.”

“Na pierwszy ogień idą ręce i nogi. Stosunkowo cienkie i otoczone tlenem są niczym podpałka, łatwo się zapalają i szybko płoną. W temperaturze zaledwie kilkuset stopni skóra szybko czernieje, tłuszcz pod nią zaczyna skwierczeć, a po kilku zaledwie minutach skóra pęka i zaczynają palić się mięśnie. Wtedy też dzieje się coś niezwykłego i przedziwnego. Kończyny zaczynają się poruszać – dłonie zaciskają się w pięści, palce u nóg zginają w dół, ręce podnoszą się do ramion, a nogi rozsuwają lekko i uginają w kolanach. To wynik siły mięśni i właściwości biomechanicznych ludzkiego ciała: zginacze, czyli mięśnie, które zginają ręce i nogi, są silniejsze od prostowników, czyli mięśni prostujących kończyny. Gdy ogień wysusza mięśnie i ścięgna, te kurczą się niczym stek na grillu, a zginacze pokonują prostowniki. W rezultacie ułożenie ciała przypomina pozycję, jaką przyjmuje bokser na ringu, dlatego też nazywamy je „postawą bokserską”. Zjawisko takie jest bardzo typowe – równie typowe dla ofiar pożarów jak fioletowy i spuchnięty język w przypadku wisielców – i zachodzi zawsze, gdy tylko kończyny ofiary mogą się swobodnie wyginać. Ręce związane lub ułożone za plecami nie mogą się zgiąć, więc jeśli znajdziemy spalone ciało z wyprostowanymi rękami, może to oznaczać, że ofiara została w jakiś sposób skrępowana lub unieruchomiona. Inna bardzo dramatyczna zmiana dotyczy głowy. Czaszka jest ściśle zamkniętym naczyniem, wypełnionym w większości płynem i miękką tkanką mózgu. W krótkim czasie cała ta wilgoć osiąga punkt wrzenia i wytwarza wysokie ciśnienie we wnętrzu czaszki: im gorętszy ogień, tym wyższe ciśnienie. Jeśli w czaszce znajduje się jakaś droga ujścia dla tego ciśnienia – na przykład otwór po kuli – kości pozostają nienaruszone. Jeśli jednak brakuje takiej drogi, czaszka może dosłownie eksplodować i rozerwać się na drobne kawałki wielkości monety. Odnalezienie i rekonstrukcja czaszki zniszczonej podczas pożaru to jedno z najbardziej nużących zadań, przed jakimi staje antropolog sądowy.”

“Something like missionary reductionism has happened to the internet with the rise of web 2.0. The strangeness is being leached away by the mush-making process. Individual web pages as they first appeared in the early 1990S had the flavor of personhood. MySpace preserved some of that flavor, though a process of regularized formatting had begun. Facebook went further, organizing people into multiple-choice identities, while Wikipedia seeks to erase point of view entirely. If a church or government were doing these things, it would feel authoritarian, but when technologists are the culprits, we seem hip, fresh, and inventive. People will accept ideas presented in technological form that would be abhorrent in any other form. It is utterly strange to hear my many old friends in the world of digital culture claim to be the true sons of the Renaissance without realizing that using computers to reduce individual expression is a primitive, retrograde activity, no matter how sophisticated your tools are.”

“I've created a monster, haven't I?" said Merlin, staring at the animated figure incredulously. "I think that, technically, I was already a monster," the dragon replied. "Now I am a monster with social networking skills. Or I would be, if I had a Twitter account. And possibly a Facebook. Do I want a Facebook? Is it a book of faces? Is it the same as MySpace? Which of course begs the question: what is MySpace?”