Ramtei

When you get a few extra dollars in your wallet, and the refrigerator is bare, and you decide to go to a restaurant, do you go somewhere new or somewhere familiar? Do you order something you have never had before or something you know you love? I am usually an adventurer, the type of person who can't even cook mac and cheese the same way twice, so usually I am looking for the next great thing. A new restaurant or at the very least something I have never tried before. As the temperature drops and the holidays near, I find myself craving the comfort of something familiar. So today I am dreaming of Ramtei, which is actually Jeff's favorite restaurant.

Our first day in Misawa, we got off the plane, after what felt like an eternity of travel to our new home Misawa. There was freezing rain turning to snow as we walked down the stairs of the plane to touch the beautiful ground and freedom of the confines of the aircraft. We had traveled here from Italy, through the military, which involves a lot of stopping and a lot of waiting. Tired, hungry, dehydrated and 4 months pregnant we were shuttled to our lodging. Jeff's office had come out to greet us and see that we were comfortable, they brought us groceries, even a litter box for Daisy (our crazy Italian Cat). They told us of their favorite restaurants, one of which was Ramtei. After showering and changing we called a taxi and tried to remember the name of the restaurant they had gone on and on about and we couldn't. We asked the taxi driver to take us to a Japanese restaurant and he took us to the Japanese police department. We said no, food (and made eating noises). And he drove us to a Chinese restaurant (my favorite, New Myaki). So it wasn't until a week later that Jeff found out how to get to Ramtei, which is only a block from the base.

Ramtei is one of those restaurants that is catered to the American, Japanese people don't usually eat there. It is a very small restaurant, and there is only one thing on the menu. (well there actually is more, but there is only one thing we get). That is all you can eat beef. The owner brings you a plate of raw, seasoned beef cut into bite sized pieces and you cook it up yourself on the skillet at your table.

The last time Jeff and I went there we were on a date. We do that once or twice a year. We paid our eldest daughter to watch the younger one and I even combed my hair and put on makeup. There is no parking at Ramtei, so we parked at the base and walked the block or so there. This was a difficult walk back when I was pregnant, but I would dream about the beef and make Jeff take me there at least once a week, but this time the walk was only hampered by illfitting snow boots and icy roads. It was a lovely night big fat snowflakes falling, us all bundled up in our hats, gloves, scarves and heavy coats. We strolled along to get to Ramtei the moment it opened. We were one of the first people to arrive, but by the time our beef was sizzling the small restaurant was filled with people.

Our conversation turned to the future. Ramtei looks like a log cabin on the inside, beautiful wood paneled walls and floors. Jeff's mind always wanders to the house we will build when he retires from the military. Ideally we want to live on top of a mountain not too far from family, but not too close, in a rustic cabin like home, with a huge front porch, where we can sit in our rocking chairs and look at the mountains. We talk of this on all our dates, it is our favorite conversation. Our favorite daydream. So we dream away and gorge ourselves on the beef. It is a secret recipe, but very peppery. The restaurant is filled with the smoke and scent of the heavily peppered beef sizzling at every table. When we are so full we can barely move we bundle back into our winter clothes and begin our slow walk back to the base.

It had been snowing all along and we were forced to walk at a leisurely pace. We noticed a souvenir shop, in the window a beautiful picture of Mount Fuji. Jeff has hiked Mt. Fuji twice so far and we notice it is being sold at a very reasonable price. So we go into the store. This is a small store and the owner is no where to be found. So we browse the store for awhile hoping he will return. This actually happens to us a lot, going in a store and not being able to find the owner. Eventually he returns, he was outside shoveling snow from the sidewalk, and we pay for the beautiful picture. He is telling us something in Japanese, he keeps repeating himself and we have no idea what he is saying. Jeff keeps shaking his head, trying to say, we don't understand. Finally the shop owner holds his nose with one hand and waves his other hand in front of his nose and clearly says, "Stinky" in English. We are a little embarrassed and he asks us, "Ramtei" and we nod yes. So I am thinking we stink a bit from being at Ramtei. Whenever Jeff eats there without me our bedroom smells of fermented dung in the morning after a night of his breath in the closed room. The smell of Ramtei comes out of your skin, your breath, it gets into your clothes. The price we pay for the yummy.

After we get our car we decide to stop by the shoppette and get a movie. We run into all kinds of people we know, knowing full well, thanks to the Japanese souvenir shop guy that we really stink. Jeff and I make small talk with our friends, and we keep looking at each other trying not to laugh. It was so much fun.