‘Feed the cold; starve the fever‘, they say. Nothing like a good dose of hot, strong soup; preferably one laden with ginger, garlic, lemon and smoldering hot spices to help loosen congestion and clear the sinuses during a head cold-good old Poondu (Garlic) rasam or Tom yum goong, to be precise. This concept seems to be universal; or so I thought, until I contracted my first bad cold in Japan.

In Japan, any opportunity to starve oneself without being blatant about it was welcome, especially with the women. All too often, the question right after ‘Are you feeling better?/Have you gotten rid of your cold?’ is ‘How much weight did you lose?’ I may be letting the lingering soreness over the whole miserable expat experience speak for me here; it is obvious enough ( I admit, albeit grudgingly), that for health reasons, Japanese people tend to get by with the barest minimum amount of nutrition; gentle on the stomach and bland dishes at that, during an illness. I guess that was just another area where I stuck out like a sore thumb; being of the odd constitution which involves hearty appetite at all times, even during a severe cold.

But that first time, even though I had resigned to the fact that there wasn’t going to be any Tom yum goong cures this time; for the only way I could get my hands on any was by taking about an hour’s train ride into Kobe, purchasing the necessary ingredients at an obscure Asian supermarket and returning home to make it from scratch; I couldn’t control the craving, and couldn’t be bothered to prep and cook Poondu rasam either. The cold worsened, and I was too weak to put forth my usual argument when my request for time off was met with one of my superiors’ jumping at the opportunity to express her contemptuous opinion that ‘the teachers from America know nothing about good food or health’; or ‘Americans are so self-centered-they take time off from work when they are sick!’ This would be a good time to mention, perhaps, that during the cold/flu season in Japan, everyone will be out and about, hacking away and spreading the virus around, rather than take even a day off to get rid of the sickness.

Be that as it may, I don’t mean to sound too ungrateful; after all, if it had not been for the aforementioned superior’s contempt and need to ‘rescue’ me, I might have never learned of the healing properties of Okayu.

Literally, Okayu is translated as rice porridge. (Gruel and Congee are two other versions/variants of the dish, as well.) It is simply rice cooked with as much as 3 times more water, and served hot with plain salt/soy sauce or topped with anything from chopped scallions to sesame seeds, Umeboshi and Wakame. Light-in both texture and flavor- and hot, it goes down the hatch in a flash. Particularly good when the throat is sore and the mouth, which has been doing the breathing for you, has to be be momentarily occupied.

Unsurprisingly, a deviant Kimchi version exists as well. My favorite, however, is the Umeboshi; a version I happily discovered to be available in the ready made pouch version as well. As I have mentioned before, Japan is the land of convenience, and anything-and I mean anything-can be purchased in a compact, aesthetically wrapped pouch.

This time ’round, both S. and I took turns falling sick one after the other, and then, as though in some sort of cruel take on a finale (let’s hope, ’cause I am still sneezing away like crazy), we went through the nasty ordeal together. While I had the hearty appetite, I could barely stand up; so Okayu saved our guts (literally) for the day(s).

As ever, I notice, I begin my Japan oriented posts with a bit of a chip on my shoulder, but wind down a bit at the end. The moral remains that while it was difficult living there, I came away with a treasury of memories and knowledge. More colds, bitterness and difficult superiors will surface in life, but it’s comforting to know that sometimes, even when there is no Tom yum goong to turn to in those times, I will always have the trustworthy Okayu instead.