Brain glue

Lunch in the garden of a restaurant in a Kyoto temple, Daitoku-ji. Something rectangular, deep fried, served on sticks like long thick pine needles.

“What is it?”

The Zen vegetarian waitress returns. “Gu ru ten.”

I expect a Japanese word, and the conversational part of my brain won’t compute. But quietly I see another part of my brain spelling out “gluten”.

She tries another word. “Fu.”

“Barley? Rice?”

“No,” she answers clearly. “Ofu.”

This is definitely a Japanese word and I can remember a few hours.

At home, I consult Japanese dictionaries without success.

But “vegetarian zen” search of the internet brings up “wheat gluten,” “macrobiotic,” “fu (not to be found in Japanese dictionaries),” and so forth. Success.

By the way, the three sticks of gluten sustained me well past my usual dinner time.