The Meal That Was Destined to be

Christine had met one of the top six chefs in the world. She had arranged for a group of us from the ship to enjoy lunch at his restaurant near Fukuoka, Japan, and everyone was quite excited about it. Unfortunately, the Odyssey's coolant for its air conditioning and food refrigeration systems was in desperate need of refilling, and that canceled our stop in Fukuoka.

Later we had two days in Nagasaki and the need to ship a package from Fukuoka. Ellie and I opted to take the bullet train and a local train for the two and a half hours that it took to get from Nagasaki to Fukuoka. With our ship supposed to leave at 1:00, we made reservations for 5:00, giving us four hours for the two-and-a-half-hour journey. Unfortunately, that did not take into account the extended period of disembarking from the ship and the excess management of departure.

By 2:00, we had finally cleared immigration, and we were hunting down a bus to get us to the shinkansen bullet train to speed up our amazing race. The bus seemed to catch every red light, and Ellie was unable to purchase the tickets online because we were too close to the departure time for the train. We scooted into the train station, and Ellie got tickets at the counter five minutes before departure. Between the signs in the station that we could read and the Google Maps dots on my phone, we managed to get to the platform shortly before departure with two young ladies moving very slowly in front of us. When we finally took our seats, it was less than 3 minutes before the bullet train pulled out of the station.

After a little over an hour, we got to the connection for the local train. Fortunately, it was just across the platform. Unfortunately, we had not purchased the tickets for it, and we were on the right train but without having paid the fare. The train pulled out of the station, and we were on our way again. With no assigned seats, we sat in a small curtained room until a young female conductor came by, and we tried our best to explain, between gestures, tickets, and Google Translate, what had transpired. She was able to produce new tickets for the onward journey; we paid the difference, and we were finally seated.

Ellie said that she would like to post about the meal that we were going to attend so that the foodies on board could enjoy it as well.  I questioned tempting fate, having an hour of travel left and an hour and a half until our reservation.

She opted not to post, and not 10 minutes later, we pulled into a station. A gentleman in a wheelchair and his accompanying family disembarked as there was a loud crack of thunder, simultaneous with the flash of lightning overhead.

We didn't move. We continued to not move. A voice came over the PA saying something in Japanese. Ten minutes later, there was a similar announcement. As it appeared we would be late for our dinner reservation, Ellie tried to communicate with the restaurant and send a message about our tardiness. Soon it became apparent that we would never get to the restaurant by 5:00. The anxiety of being late turned into acceptance of the fact that we might miss it altogether. Two hours later, we asked the young conductor as she passed by what we could expect as far as our arrival in Hakata, where Goh Gan restaurant was located. It was 6:20, and she indicated that the train should be moving again by 6:30. Unfortunately, the lightning strike had taken out many of the signals along the way, and they had to be put back into service before we could safely move.

Soon there was a rainbow as the weather began to cooperate and we were on our way.

We arranged for a hotel near the restaurant, knowing that we would be shipping our package the next day, and we would go to the restaurant and hope that we could be served. With the restaurant being so famous, we had serious doubts about whether we would be dining there or grabbing something from a food truck.

Shortly after 6:30, the train started to move again, and we arrived in Hakata at about 7:15. We attempted to go through the terminal using the paper tickets that the conductor had given us, and the gate closed, locked, and displayed a red light. There was no one in the area to provide assistance, but there was a button on the wall for an intercom. The nice voice on the other end said that we needed to go to the central gate to meet somebody in person to deal with our problem. Delayed again.

After explaining our situation with tickets, gestures, and Google Translate, the nice young lady waved us through. It was now 7:30, and the last seating at GohGan was at 8:00. What the hell, we took our chances and marched the 15 minutes through bright lights, a big city, wonderful smells, and sights to the restaurant. There we encountered a few friends from the shipthat were waiting to go into the same place.

With apologies and Google Translate explanations for our tardiness, we asked if it was possible to still enjoy the meal that we had prepaid. With smiles and bows, we were pointed in the direction of a small table with two seats and were invited to sit down. Our good and great luck could not be overstated.

The nine-course meal we were about to embark on was laid out on crisp white paper on the plate in front of us.  It was more a program of what we were about to experience than a menu. It was going to be an homage to Japan and its landscape, sea treasures, and the life of the people here. Illustrated on the plate was a comic image of the two owners.

After looking the offerings of the evening over, Ellie suggested that I choose what to drink with our experience.It looked like everything was going to start out soft and gentle and then grow more intense as we went on. I chose to have a couple of glasses of pink sparkling wine to start and then there was a French Chateau bottled blend that looked perfect for the rest of the evening.

The shy waiters with their limited English made an effort to present the pieces of edible art that were placed before us in such a way as we should experience them to maximum enjoyment.

The first was Pani-Puri, an Indian street snack that looked like a crisp golden brown ping pong ball filled with nothing but air. We were instructed to crack it open and add a dollop of the herb rich sour cream mix that was laid next to it. We were also advised not to eat the dried beans that were being used as the presentation platter for our first course.  As expected, it was fun, delicious, crispy, tasty, and we kind of crushed thefirst of the three balls that we tried to master.

Next was a series of five amuse-bouches. Ellie would read off the description of them in order, and we tasted them at the same time. First was a rice cracker with edamame sauce that looked like a flower. I managed not to drop it with my chopsticks and enjoyed the crunch and fresh flavor. The second was a thin slice of cucumber with mullet roe and basil inside. All I tasted at first was the crunch and flavor of the fresh cucumber with the herbal hint of basil, but after a few seconds, when I breathed in, I felt like I was near the ocean as the tide was going out. I could taste the sea. The curry and the chicken liver crackers were both wonderful, however, the little corn dogs on wooden sticks were something special. They had been presented on a bed of rosemary, and thesmell infused into those little bites in a wonderful way.

The next course was the reason I had chosen the sparkling wine. It was a peach consommé. They described it as being a peach mousse, however, the texture was more of a foam.  In fact, as it touched your tongue, it tickled as it disappeared, leaving behind balls of jellied beef consommé. The salty surprise could either be allowed to melt on your tongue or you could press it against the roof of your mouth in a sudden explosion of flavor.

We finished our sparkling wine as the sea bream ceviche was brought to the table. It was surrounded by  a carrot sauce that had a fried shrimp and a boiled shrimp. I did mention to Ellie that the fried shrimp was not peeled. Of the many surprises that evening, it was the one that didn't go over well.

Foie Gras is something I have avoided as my palate steers away from liver. Their presentation inside a Hakata Torimon local sweet bun melted in my mouth with no hint of organ meat. Just buttery and soft.

A small perfect cut of cod from Hokkaido represented the north with moist flakie goodness.

A  slice of Imari wagyu beef was the nextcourse. It came from Saga near where our train had been delayed for three hours. The wine paired lovely with it. The beef was surrounded by a  corn sauce and Madeira sauce. On top was a single, bright green shiso leaf. Rare and red and perfect and delicious, small bites, wonderful texture, beautiful flavor, and we savored every bite.

Ellie told me that the chef was watching from the kitchen and seemed to be looking for the reactions of the patrons. I turned, caught his eye, and gave him two thumbs up, at which point he lit up like a 100-watt light bulb.

The snow crab curry was wonderful, with a light taste of coconut and the Japanese snow crab being a delicate background flavor. The rice was especially good, and the server came to our table when we'd finished and asked if I would like to have some more. Apparently, my thumbs upwas appreciated, and of course, I acceptedmore.

We finished with a watermelon shaved ice that I swear had some raspberry in it that was spooned over what seemed to be an extremely delicate panna cotta. Fortunately for me, Ellie opted to only eat part of her dessert, and so I again was able to have seconds of some of this luscious menu.

A wonderful decaf followed by a heartfelt thanks in Japanese to the staff for the wonderful meal, and we were outside where a staff member offered to take a picture of us in front of their food truck. It was less than a 10-minute walk to the hotel where we settled in for the night and again thanked our lucky stars for how everything had turned out.