The Nut of the Pasania Tree

This morning Pippi and I picked up an interesting kernel of wisdom. While playing ball in Arisugawa Park, a forager began encroaching on our arena. At first I thought the man was one of the many ginkgo nut seekers who come out in masses this time of year. But he was not wearing the telltale white gloves needed to protect the hands from the ginkgo's dreadful smell. So we went up and asked what he was searching for. In response, he extracted this handful of nuts from the pocket of his blue windbreaker.



Not to be confused with garden variety acorns, each shell contains an edible nut. To prove his point, the man peeled off the thin shell with his thumbnail and held out the raw kernel for me to taste. It looked like a peanut. Against my better judgement -- this was probably a pretty stupid thing to do -- I popped it in my mouth and began to chew. He didn't really seem like a crazy person. The taste was surprisingly sweet and toothsome. My new friend then instructed me to take some home and roast them in a fry pan with a sprinkle of salt. Don't think we'll be going there but nice to know we could find food if we ever get lost in a forest.



The leaf of the Pasania tree.



Apparently, the Pasania, aka Lithocarpus, is part of the beech genus. This species is probably native to Asia but may be related to the Tanoak that grows in California and Oregon.

Gingko Glory

About a month ago the air was full of a dreadful pong. The culprits? The innocuous-looking, but horrible-smelling, gingko nuts littering the ground. For most of the year gingko trees just meld in with the scenery. But come mid-fall, they take center stage, commanding the attention of the nose first and the eye second.

For little old ladies (and the occasional little old man), the telltale odor is a tip-off. Armed with plastic bags and trowels, they come out in force to pick up the nuts with their gloved fingers. (I once grabbed a gingko nut bare-handed. Big mistake. It took days to get rid of the rotting, earthy stench.) I am not sure how it is done, but proper preparation transforms these stink bombs into smell-free, savory delicacies. In fact, we had some for dinner last night at one of our new favorite restaurants. Slightly chewy and lightly salted, the roasted, yellow morsels have a unique texture and a nutty flavor that delights the palette.



A few weeks after the olfactory onslaught, the gingko's spectacular foliage comes into its full glory. This is not the first time I have seen the fan-shaped leaves turn light green and then brilliant yellow. But every year I marvel at them anew. (Is this an age thing?) I treasure Japan's appreciation of seasonal change. The gingko trees always do their thing in late November, just in time for Eve's birthday and Thanksgiving.

This morning Pippi and I took an early walk, as we like to do on the weekends, and routed ourselves through Arisugawa Park. We got there before the cleaners had a chance to sweep away the thick layer of yellow leaves that had accumulated overnight. The whole park had become a yellow wonderland!