Tsukemono Pickle Press

Most things in life are beyond our control.  Shikata ga nai.  But with the wisdom gained with age, I have learned to enjoy what little over which I do have control.

Mostly, these are simple pleasures.
Take this gizmo that I ordered from Amazon, it is called a tsukemono pickle press. They come in different models, but this is the one that I chose to purchase for myself. 

I admire the elegance in the design as well as in the esthetics of this practical device.  It is used for pressing water from vegetables, to preserve them Japanese style. Tsukemono (pickled things) is quintessentially Japanese: a minimalist technique for pickling -- preserving -- thinly sliced cabbages, eggplants or cucumbers.  I love Persian cucumbers in my salad, but often could not finish a whole carton from Trader Joe.  These little cukes are delicious but highly perishable, and must be enjoyed while they are fresh and crisp.  I get a new batch each week and, sad to say, I used to have to throw out the leftover ones after they go limp.

No more. These days I thin slice the extra cucumbers, stack the slices in layers at the bottom of the pickle press, sprinkling a small amount of salt on top of each layer, close the lip, turn the screw on top to tighten the press, and leave the gizmo on my kitchen counter.  Within an hour, I can see water rising above the press.  After two to three days, I harvest the pickled cucumbers -- thin and slightly yellowish -- and store them in a glass jar in my refrigerator.   I enjoy them with rice or noodle, as a palate cleansing side dish. 

Photo above: Persian cukes and my tsukemono pickle press.

Photo above: Harvested tsukemono to be enjoyed with soy sauce, sesame oil and vinegar.  There is something about this combination that is irresistible to me, especially eaten with steaming hot rice.   I think I can survive on this stuff indefinitely!

Many years ago when I needed to buy a car, I deliberately chose a Volvo.  I did that although the voice of reason had told me to get a Toyota or Honda, which were (and still are) everywhere in California.  Japanese products were riding high at the time, and I resented seeing Japanese tourists everywhere as if they owned the places. 

It is now 10 years later, and, shall we say, I have flipped.  Mainly it has to do with a certain Japanese pianist who has captured my fancy since 2009 --  a story for another blog.  But even before that, I was subconsciously attracted to the Japanese esthetics.   I am ethnically Chinese, but have always been partial to the arts of Japanese.  The minimalism coupled with a subtle charm appeals to me instinctively.

Over the years, I have become a big fan of many things Japanese!  Such is life.   Shikata ga nai.   

Shigata ga nai

A line of pine trees that stand guard on an incline overlooking our highway is turning brown.  Are they victims of the California drought, or victims of pine wilt?  The first time I noticed the blight, only some limbs were affected.  Each time I passed by since, the color of rust had spread more.  The writing is on the wall.  We are losing these proud Scotch Pines planted over a decade ago when an upscale development was built behind them.

I have always made a point to catch a glimpse of these giant trees while driving northbound on the highway.  These line of perhaps a hundred evergreen formed an elegant natural fence, towering above us motorists as we speed through that stretch of Highway 101 somewhere between Los Angeles and San Francisco.  Who planted those pines?  Was it the developer who built those upscale homes, as a good will gesture?  Or was it the city's attempt to beautify the landscape?  In any case, it was a good thing for the landscape, a nice touch to counter urban blight.  Together those trees have grown for over a decade, stretching for perhaps half a mile on the slopes along the freeway.  Now their existence is rudely disrupted, and someone will have the unenviable task of removing the fallen giants from a steep incline.

Who is to blame when nature takes such a wonton turn?  Something like that, on a smaller scale, happened to me.  Five years ago, I planted a row of xylosma by a low fence in my front yard.  It didn't take long for the 5-gallon starters to shoot up a neat row of graceful branches and luscious leaves to form a 10-foot fence that nicely provided a screen between me and my next-door neighbors. 

Some time last year, mushrooms started to sprout in the dirt just around the slender trunks of these graceful trees.  Soon, their lustrous leaves began to be tinged with brown spots and gradually they turned yellow.  I tried every remedy mentioned on the web, but one by one, these supposedly hardly xylosmas succumbed.  Now, only one is left standing.  Was it the drought?  Or were they victims of fungus in the soil?

The longer one lives, the more one becomes aware of just how tenuous things are in this world.  That most of us in this country live in relative harmony is a luxury that I did not have the maturity to appreciate.  Until my recent retirement, life had been a blur of activities for survival, obligations and ambitions.  In my earlier days, the demise of a tree would hardly bat an eyelid.  Looking back at the sixty-five years that I have been on earth, I realize just what a wonder it is that I have managed to last that long.  I have been lucky.  Doubly so because I am blessed with, for now at least, relatively good health that allows me to enjoy in leisure what life has to offer.  My life is modest and uncomplicated.  I have minimized my obligations.  I have a son who stays in touch.  I travel.  I have a passion in a young pianist who keeps me engaged in classical music and piano playing. I can't complain.

Life is good.  But nothing lasts forever.  The best laid plan is no match for Mother Nature and Fate.  A perfect row of trees, carefully planted, can whither under the attacks of microscopic insects or underground fungus.

Shikata ga Nai, the title of this blog, is a Japanese term: 仕方が無い, meaning "somethings just cannot be helped."  I think the U.S. expression "That's the way the cookie crumbles" carries a similar connotation.   A crude but effective expression is "S...  happens."  I like the melodic sound of the Japanese phrase, and I like that it is inscrutable to most people.

I am not Japanese, and I suspect that this is one of those sayings where something is lost in translation.  But the expression is generally taken to mean that there are adverse situations where nothing can be done, and must be accepted and endured.  The phrase is not always viewed positively.  As described in Japan Times article The Curse of Shigata ga nai, the expression fosters defeatism, and can be abused as a cop-out for inaction, an excuse for passivity.    I use the phrase in a more philosophical and personal light: there are times when I must accept a disagreeable situation, an unhappy happenstance that turns out not as I prefer. 

People become curmudgeons as they age.  I am no exception, although I believe I am less ornery than most.  You live, you learn to cope.  I am not one given to rage, and at my age, few things really matter. But there are still things in life that troubles the mind, as they seem so absurd and even obscene.  At times like that,  I would utter to myself  Shikata ga Nai, as I do these days whenever I drive past that long stand of wilting pines.

I started this blog, on this day, as a vehicle to document my musings on such things, and others that come with age.  Shikata ga Nai.

image via Internet link