Discovery in Okinawa: The Perfect Cheesecake

A Few Qualifications

• A cheesecake has some weight to it.  Lift it, and it weighs as much as a light bowling ball.
• It isn't like a pound-cake.  It is thick and, will break a plastic fork.
• It is stored in a refrigerator because, if it's left out on a shelf, it will spoil.
• Siberian Huskies love cheesecake as much as I do. So, this one won't go home with me.
• Good cheesecakes are hard to find (almost impossible) in Japan. But, they do exist.

The Awesome-yummiest Cheesecake

 

 

It's been, just down the street from my office, all along !

Instead of focusing on bugs, in front of my office or, the moon, I should have looked.

  


The building, across the street with the striped awning has it.

 

  

There's even a sign, in English, that says, Cheese Cake !

So, I went in and ordered one.

This baby had some texture and was as heavy as a bowling ball.

There isn't any fancy silverware around my office.

So, I had to get my camping saw off my backpack, to slice it.

Plastic forks would break so, I used a spoon, instead.

Licking plastic spoons isn't bad for your health but, licking camping saw blades hurts.

After, eating about half the cake, I put it in the fridge.

And, went back to ask if I could take some photos of the place.

As soon as I hit the publish button on this blog, I'll see how much more I can eat.

It's the best cheesecake, I've tasted in over 30 years.

So, there's no sense sharing it and letting things go to waste.  Right?

People living in Okinawa might want to know where to find Taimo Kobo Kinta.

For anyone, interested in making their own, here's a recipe.


But, I doubt, it comes anywhere near the discovery, I made today.

Back to attack the rest of my cheesecake and, take a little nap.


New Year's Eve, is always a long day and night, around this part of the country.


To all my friends and followers, have a safe and Happy New Year.


Let's hope 2014 has lots of Ups.


And, may any Downs you have, be gentle ones!



Where is it on Google Maps?

Dog Photo Essay: Ryukyu Inu and Husky Mutts Meet at the Beach

These guys are the Ryukyu Inu, a breed of dog native to Okinawa, Japan.

They get an early morning walk, on the beach, every day by Papasan.

The guy dogs figure it's their job to keep other male dogs off the beach.

When they saw a couple of Husky mutts tied to the coffee machine they decided it would be best to go over there and bite them.  That's how Papasan wound up getting tripped by leashes, landing on his rear end.

The good-natured guy that he is, Papasan gets a grip on things and decides to let the boys introduce themselves to each other.

The gal dog doesn't really need to meet more guys.

The brown Ryukyu Inu must have whispered fighting words in the brown Husky mutt's ear.

One thing, for sure, Russian dogs and Japanese dogs all understand each other's language.

The Husky with the red harness is half Chow Chow so, he may know a little Chinese, too.

When dogs get talking like this they can't hear anybody else talking around them.

It's just like when a couple of old women get talking in the supermarket and are blocking the aisle. 

That ever happen to you?

You could say, "Excuse me."  Or, even try to tell them the place is on fire, and they just don't hear you.

Sometimes, I just take their groceries and put them in my cart.  Then, hope they have a nice day.

Dogs are different.  Papasan and I figured it out.

We turned them loose and let them clean each other's clocks.

The Ryukyu Inu guys ran off to the beach.  And they're probably thinking,

 "We showed them."

The Husky Mutts came back to the coffee machine.

Papasan and I sat and drank iced coffee and the Ryukyu gal dog stayed with us in the shade.

The Husky Mutts were probably thinking, "We showed them."

Oops.  It's time to take my gal grocery shopping.  Groan.

Have a nice day!

Gizmo the Dog (Photo) Sometimes He's a Knucklehead, Too!

Gizmo is part of my team of Huskies and he is the Boss Dog around my house. I got this pair of dogs from a shelter. They were so small at 8 weeks old, you could hold them both in one hand.
Their mom was a Siberian Husky.

Gizmo, according the the vet, is half Chow. His brother, Rufus, is half Japanese Shiba. So, I figure, if I have two mutts that are half Husky, when you add it all up, I have a Siberian Husky. Do the math and you can figure it out yourself.

In my lifetime I've probably had 30 or 40 different dogs. The Huskies are the best. They are strong, smart, protective of the family and not noisy or mean-tempered. They are just amazing animals. But, every once in awhile, just like people THEY CAN BE KNUCKLEHEADS !

Last Saturday morning Gizmo woke me up a 5AM, as usual, when he heard the newspaper being delivered. The dogs know they don't get walked until Papa finishes reading the morning news and chugs about a quart of iced coffee. Once the newspaper is done and folded, they start jumping around begging me to put on their harnesses so, they can drag me to the beach.

These dogs are getting up there in age. They are going on 12 years old. Gizmo doesn't like long 12 hour walks in the hot sun, anymore. He moves a bit slower in the summertime. But, when it's freezing cold outside, he's like a young pup, all over again.

The critters were surprised when I threw the newspaper on the kitchen table, downed one cup of coffee and said "Let's go sampo-sampo". That's Japanese for walking around, walking around.
Did I mention, these guys are also bilingual ?  Well, they got that way hanging around with me.

There wasn't time for me to be reading the paper. I wanted to get my cameras ready and go shooting CHERRYBLOSSOMS with Doc. So, I was on the road with the dogs way before sunup.

It was cold outside and they were grinning and tugging, giving me my daily workout, all the way downhill to the beach. One full-grown Siberian Husky can pull one ton of weight loaded on a sled or wagon. I know this from reading the Siberian Huskies For Dummies book. Awesome !

Anyway, coming back up the hill, Gizmo started slowing down. He didn't want to stay in front of me. Something was wrong. He was walking slow alongside me. I slowed down and looked at him but, it was dark out so, I couldn't see what was wrong.

Soon, he was falling behind. Just one dog was up front doing all the pulling. I slowed down and reigned in Rufus on a shorter leash. Gizmo was moving so slow I figured maybe he was having a heart attack. He kept stopping. Then, I'd coax, pull and drag until we finally made it home.

Damn, I hate it when an old friend dies. But, it happens all the time.

So, I unleashed and unharnessed the dogs at the house, grabbed my camera gear and went.

All day long, in the back of my mind, was Gizmo. Coming back down from a day of shooting in the mountains, I told Doc "It looks like Gizmo's number may have come up. I may have to have him put to sleep".

When I got home there he was, wagging his tail, talking to me and jumping up for a pat on the head. And, that's when I saw what was wrong with him. See the choker chain hanging around his neck in the photo ?

SOMEHOW, THE KNUCKLEHEAD INSERTED HIS LEFT PAW INTO IT AND MANAGED TO GET HIS WHOLE LEG, ALL THE WAY UP TO HIS FREAKIN ARMPIT, THROUGH THE CHAIN HANGING AROUND HIS NECK !

It would take a bolt cutter to get a stainless steel chain off of him quickly and I didn't have one handy. So, we rolled around on the floor snapping and growling at each other until I managed to contort his left arm enough to get the damn thing out of there.

There's nothing wrong with the dog except, maybe, a little choker chain rash under his armpit and for being such a smart dog, sometimes he's a knucklehead, too !  That's my Gizmo.

SEE THE PHOTO OF THE DAY ON MY HOMEPAGE

Rufus Goes to Town

Today my bodyguard, Rufus got published at Matador Life. This is a big deal for me, as well as, him. I'm in the photo, too. You just have to look real close in both of his eyes; that's me kneeling in the patch of light right in front of him.

This is the only photo I have of Rufus where he's looking straight at the camera. He's been entered more than a few times in photo contests, but hasn't won anything, yet. Now, his brother, Gizmo, that's a different story. He's cute, a people dog, loves attention, talks to you and demands attention from anyone he meets. But, today is Rufus' day so, lets talk about him.

He is half Siberian Husky and half Shiba, a Japanese breed. He has six toes on his back feet, just like a wolf. He is an escape artist. He will watch every move you make. If you build a fence, he's studying how to un-build it. When I used to drive a jeep, he watched where I put the keys, how I depressed the clutch and how I shifted and made it go. I just knew, someday, he'd steal my jeep. I got rid of the jeep but I kept Rufus. We walk alot.

From the day I brought him home from the animal shelter at six weeks old, Rufus has always slept either at my feet or nearby, where he can watch me. When he isn't asleep he's watching. He doesn't blink his eyes. He is always watching.

When he was a year old, someone stole him. His brother and I walked for miles in every possible direction, looking for him. After a week went by without a trace of him, I started thinking about getting another dog. Huskies are pack animals and his brother needed a companion. I knew, if Rufus was alive somewhere, he'd escape. He did.

Nine days after being kidnapped, Rufus escaped. My son saw him in a village about 5 miles north of home. It was Valentines Day, February 14th, 9 years ago. The wife and I had decided to order steak from the restaurant downstairs and have it delivered rather than get all dressed up to go out and eat.

The phone rang before we had a chance to order. The son, a construction worker, was at a party outside his boss's house. They were barbecuing chicken. Huskies love chicken, more than cats. Rufus showed up. He was hungry, dirty, malnourished; starving. Construction workers wear uniforms. And they drink. If they tossed a bone, Rufus would eat it. When they tried to approach him, he'd run away. The son knew it was Rufus and he'd been missing. He knew that anytime I shook my car keys, Rufus would run to me. He tried shaking his car keys; Rufus ignored him. He only comes to Papa's car keys, no one else's.

Without even knowing where in the village Rufus was spotted, we jumped in the car and drove north to the next town. I pulled over, in the dark, and stopped at a parking lot where I could be safely off the highway. I got out of the car, jingled the keys and whistled as I walked back to the highway. Within 30 seconds, out of the darkness, a stinking, scrawny, filthy, black, Rufus came from nowhere and jumped into my chest. Best Valentine's gift I ever had !

It wasn't until I got home and saw the dog where there were lights, that I realized what he'd been through. He had two inch incisions, cut on each side of his chest. Someone was using him as a fighting dog. That's the way it's done in this part of the world.

Would the dog ever be the same? Would the grandchildren be safe around him? Would he be vicious? Would he ever be normal again?

Rufus is ten years old, now. He's fine. Grandkids play with him, ride him like a horse, sleep with him. He protects them; they make him sit, give his paw, lay down and give him cookies and leftovers.

He doesn't like uniforms. He doesn't like drunks. He avoids them; he won't attack unless he or a family member is threatened. If that were to happen, remember, Huskies are pack animals.