In Praise of Shadow

It has been said of Japanese food that it is a cuisine to be looked at rather than eaten. I would go further and say that it is to be meditated upon, a kind of silent music evoked by the combination of lacquerware and the light of a candle flickering in the dark.

In the cuisine of any country efforts no doubt are made to have the foodharmonize with tableware and the walls; but with Japanese food, a brightly lighted room and shining tableware cut the appetite in half. The
dark miso soup that we eat every morning is one dish from the dimly lit houses of the past. I was once invited to a tea ceremony where miso was served: and when I saw the muddy, claylike color, quiet in a black
lacquer bow I beneath the faint light of candle, this soup I usually take without a second thought seemed somehow to acquire a real depth, and to become infinitely more appetizing as well.