Finding God.
Act 1 of meeting Japan's national treasure.
I will never forget the moment I found out God lives in North Sydney.
I was in my lukewarm bath watching an Instagram reel.
In the reel, God was having sushi with a white guy in Tokyo.
The aftermath of an interview for a food magazine.
“What the flying fuck?” I thought calmly.
Did you know: jealousy tastes like chewing a thermometer, mercury melting in your mouth.
How did this guy, a random Gashapon collector, score this interview?
What the hell is a ‘Swillhouse’ magazine?
It should’ve been me.
God is Tetsu Kariya.
Or should I say Tetsu Kariya is one-half of God.
The other half is Akira Hanasaki
Both of them created Oishinbo, a food manga serialised between 1983 and 2014.
By the time the series ended, it had produced 111 volumes (tankōbon), sold over 130 million copies, and become one of the most successful and culturally significant manga series in history.
Incoming catch phrase:
Everything I know about life, I learned from manga.
And everything I know about Japanese food, I learned from Oishinbo.
One day, someone would pick up a volume, run it through a translator, and burst this bubble. I’m no expert in ramen, or sushi, or omakase. I’m a fraud, chewing, digesting, and spitting out slops from a manga.
Double fraud, because I didn’t even read the originals.
I read the (traditional) Chinese translated version.
Literal Chinese whispers.
Did I mention that Oishinbo has also been translated into different languages around the world? The English version would be Oishinbo: à la carte by VIZ, condensing themes into highlights, but I heard they are also out of print.
The backbone of the series is a proxy war between a cynical, lazy journalist, Yamaoka and his tyrannical, master-gourmand father, Yūzan. The Tōzai Newspaper's “Ultimate Menu” is locked in an endless ideological battle against the Teito Newspaper’s “Supreme Menu” surrounding ingredients, philosophy and social issues related to food, domestic and international.
Dad can name the origin of miso just by tasting. The son thinks food should be accessible to all. The son also blames the dad for the death of his mother.
The restaurants and the chefs in the stories are often real.
Kariya researched the places in person.
Chika has booked a tour at a black vinegar farm in Kirishima. We have driven to Kagawa to have udon (the one with the old lady) based on the manga.
In a way, Oishinbo is not just a comic; it’s also food journalism.
A graphic history of Japanese cuisine.
Chika made it sound like all Japanese have read and memorised Oishinbo.
I later found out that most of them read it for entertainment, but I read and treated it like education. Teaching. Gospel. Bible.
Over time, whenever I write about food, I have to stop and wonder, was it my thoughts, or just God talking through me?
The photos in the magazine made God look like an ojichan.
A dad, retired in North Sydney, in a living room from the 90s.
I understand the photographer’s choice:
Dramatic lighting to show the mundane.
I tried my best to read the excerpt, but no, the questions were all wrong.
I’m not interested in the exposition.
I don’t need an introduction to God.
Dig deeper, come on.
His regrets? Unfinished works? Why Australia?
God had a blog, too.
Surprise: it’s also in Japanese.
I particularly loved his second-to-last entry about Chinese food. Peking duck at Quan Ju De. (The Melbourne branch closed down.)
“Nothing really wowed us. Eventually, you start to think all Chinese food tastes the same.”
I wanted to tell him I felt the same towards Japanese food.
“Did you know he wrote about Tetsuya?”
“Did you know he mentioned Pauline Hanson?”
“Could you help me track down which issues?”
Lee Tran was a fan.
She even interviewed him.
Google translate, cross-reference Japanese media. Issues 37 and 65.
Done in 2 minutes.
“You should contact Kariya. Have a meeting with him. Here’s his email,” she texted.
Apart from cock-blocking Candice Chung in her book ‘Chinese Parents Don’t Say I Love You’, Lee Tran also likes to stir shit up.
What am I going to do with this piece of information?
“Hello I found you online. I’m your biggest fan and impersonator. Let’s have coffee. No one knows you as I do. Sincerely yours, Stan.”
You know what they call people who claim they’ve found God and try to meet Him?
I filed that email in my mind palace under ‘crazy’.
The year was 2024.
End Act 1.