We like to see nature the way nature intended: raw and rugged, wild and weathered, preserved and protected.
Let me preface this article with the following: I am 28 years old. I don’t live at home. I do my own laundry and have even learned to iron a shirt (sort of – the sleeves still give me grief). I ask my parents for financial help, but only rarely, only when it’s been a particularly boozy month or if there’s an emergency, like I want something. I’m pretty normal.
In the evenings, in Kyoto, there’s a particular hour where the light shifts from white to gold. Central Kyoto runs on a grid – north-south and east-west – which, it turns out, is absolute money for a photographer.
We’re standing on the third floor of a nondescript building in downtown Tokyo, a light and airy space used for soba noodle workshops. The air sparkles with tiny particles of buckwheat flour. At the centre of a group of 12 stunned gaikokujin (foreigners, i.e. us) a small and shrunken old man is patiently building soba noodles from scratch.
This article originally appeared on Brokeassgourmet.com
Summer food should not be over-thought.
It should be light, so as not to weigh you down in the heat. It should feature bright, bold flavors, capitalizing on the incredible bounty of produce available this time of year. It should be portable and picnic-friendly. And, most importantly, it should come together quickly, so that you have more time to spend enjoying it with the people you love.
Picking the world’s best beach is a bit like arguing why your favourite colour should dominate the rainbow. Everyone’s going to have an opinion.