Waiting for Gelato
When patience, persistence, and just a little bit of chaos lead to something delicious.
Over the past few weeks, I noticed an empty storefront near my station undergoing renovations. Counters, tables, and chairs, and an ice cream display case appeared one by one.
Neat, I thought.
There were plenty of restaurants and bars (and even a bagel shop) near my apartment, but hardly any sweets options. The taiyaki shop right in front of the station closed down a few months back. Even though it had terrible reviews and really wasn't very good, I was still sad to see it go. An ice cream store would be a welcome addition, especially with summer beginning.
Taiyaki is a fish-shaped street food snack, commonly filled with anko (sweet red bean paste). My wife is holding one filled with custard. Don’t confuse it with takoyaki.
On Friday night, there was a note taped to the door advertising limited pre-opening hours for Saturday and Sunday. Awesome. I knew Kana, my wife, would want to try it too. Then I noticed it wasn’t going to be an ice cream shop.
No, it was a gelato shop.
Even better.
On Saturday morning, my stomach was in ruin. Kana suggested it was the previous night's combination of sushi and beer. A typically harmless combination but I don't drink much beer these days.
Whatever the reason, I battled it out and survived four trips to the bathroom. Nothing was going to stop me from getting gelato. Feeling a bit better, Kana and I decided to go grocery shopping and grab it on the way home.
Japanese grocery stores are narrow and cramped and always feel crowded, even when you’re the only one in the aisle. Being the weekend, it was fairly lively, but we made it to the register unscathed.
We were getting rung up in the lane right by the exit. Then a man in a light green t-shirt dropped a can of beer on the floor. He looked at it and froze.
It erupted like a volcano, spraying its sweet foam in all directions.
Beer landed on the floor, of course.
Then on the poor old woman loading her bags by the door.
It hit the shopping baskets, the registers, my shoes, my tote bag, and my shirt.
It even landed on my face. Yareyare. Good grief.
The smell of warm beer is both nauseating and nostalgic. I could be in another life, in a dirty, dark basement in Atlanta or Athens.
The man didn’t even apologize, neither generally nor to anyone in particular. He only offered up the explanation that he dropped it. Well, yeah. Obviously you did. Kana and I are bemused but undaunted.
It’s almost gelato time.
Next, we queued up at the greengrocer down the street. Known as yaoya (八百屋) in Japanese, these shops are great ways to save money on fruits and vegetables. The line was as long as it always is on a Saturday. My stomach felt heavy. I didn’t think I would last in the heat. Kana told me to carry the groceries home and she’d get the veggies and the gelato.
By the time I got home, she messaged to say the line wasn’t moving at all, so she’d just get the gelato and come back.
Absentmindedly, I put away the groceries, daydreaming of cool, sweet gelato. What flavors do they have? Will she bring one to share, or two? Can she carry two cups and grocery bags?
Twenty minutes later, she sent a picture: the line is too long.
What do you mean? Haven’t you been in line this whole time?
Nope. Vegetables are more important than gelato. She waited in line at the yaoya first.
You can't promise someone gelato and come home empty-handed.
Yareyare.
The line wraps around the building and down the block.
The next day we were ready. The shop opened at noon. We got there at 11:55, and there were only six groups of people in front of us. We waited. More people joined the queue. The line snaked out the door, onto the sidewalk, and down the street.
Finally inside, we checked the display case and chose our flavors. A single cup was 300 yen.
We made it to the promised land.
We put our coins in the machine, pressed the button, and it spit out two tickets. We handed them to the woman at the counter and told her what flavors we wanted.
Success. Gelato acquired. No toilet troubles or beer to get in our way today.
It was worth the wait.
Good storyteller
300 yen is pretty affordable!