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Read Part 7 >> Oshogatsu in Bridge River All our staple food were unavailable to us anymore and all our mothers without recipes were experimenting, trying to …
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Waking slowly. I can still remember the exquisitely warm feeling of waking up at home in my bed upstairs. The sounds floated up from the …
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As I walk with my four kids into the U-M Center for Japanese Studies, we are heartened by the thump thump thump of the kine …
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I remember when I was a kid I preferred milanesas (breaded meat cutlets) with mashed potatoes to the Japanese meals that my mother prepared everyday—along …
1.The comment on my blog begins, “I have found you and your sister at last.” The commenter describes herself as a childhood/young-adulthood friend of my …
“I can do better than that with one hand tied behind my back,” my father complained, checking out the liver and onions set before him. …
I have been told by various people that I am a “good” cook. I’m usually able to put together dishes without recipes from whatever is …
The doorbell rings. The dog barks. I turn on the porch light, open the front door, and… No one is there. Then I look down. …
Susan S. has an annual tradition that she’s followed for over thirty-six years, animal by animal. Having been lucky enough to have spent the past …
Now that Christmas is over (albeit our family is in the final day of Chanukah), a powerful force has taken over our house and fills …
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