Then he’d pour the batter smoothly across the griddle, letting just the right amount flow into each mold.
While the batter was still sizzling, Occhan already had a handful of finely chopped octopus ready in his hand.
Into each mold he’d drop a couple of little bits. Sometimes, though, he’d come across a bigger chunk, and that single piece would take up the whole mold.
Plop-plop, plop-plop, plunk, plop-plop, plop…
My stomach would start rumbling.
Before I knew it, the griddle was covered with little pools of batter, each one holding its pieces of octopus. They were bubbling away, trembling and dancing ever so slightly.
Occhan trimmed off the excess batter around the edges. The smell of cooking batter mixed with the aroma of the stall’s special sauce. It was enough to make your mouth water.
Man, they smelled good.
(Illusrated by Gemini)
(Come on… I can hardly wait…)
Maybe he could read my mind. Maybe he could hear the little voice in my head.
“Just a little longer now.”
With that, he started turning the takoyaki over with his little metal pick, moving at a steady, almost musical rhythm.
The runny batter gradually folded in on itself, wrapping around the octopus and turning into beautiful little golden balls.
Sizzle… sizzle… sizzle…
Flip, flip, flip, flip, flip…
The sound gradually changed. The batter wasn’t as wet anymore, and that wonderfully toasted, savory smell began to fill the air.
The takoyaki were now rolling around in their little molds, almost leaning out over the edge, as if they couldn’t wait to get out and meet the world.
“How many would you like?”
“One boat.” (Or so I said, anyway.)
“All right.”
With a few deft moves of his pick, Occhan guided the chosen takoyaki into a little wooden tray shaped like a boat.
Roll, plop. Roll, plop. Roll, plop.
They lined up neatly in two rows, looking like a tiny crew of passengers. Steam rose from the boat as the piping-hot takoyaki gathered together.
Then came the special sauce.
Occhan swept his brush across them in one smooth motion, generously coating the little balls with that irresistible, deep-brown sauce.
And from here on, everything happened at lightning speed.
A shower of bonito flakes first. Then, almost immediately, a fluffy sprinkle of green laver, adding a lovely touch of green. The little wooden lid came down with a quick snap, hiding the treasures inside.
Finally, he wrapped the whole thing in a sheet of old newspaper.
The smell of takoyaki sauce and old newsprint somehow blended together perfectly. Even today, I can almost smell it.
(Oh, no… I’m seriously drooling now.)
“Here you go. Best eat them while they’re hot.”
“Here you are. One hundred yen.”
“Thanks, kid.”
Occhan was always smiling. With his white hair and fair skin almost blending into one another under the stall lights, he stood there like a little beacon, working his magic over the griddle.
And by then, a few more people had gathered behind me. An older lady and a young guy were waiting their turn.
Occhan turned to the lady.
"And how many for you?"
"Two boats, please."
I would hold the piping-hot newspaper parcel in both hands and set off for home at a little run.
The walk home was always filled with excitement, anticipation, and the delicious knowledge that something wonderful was waiting inside that little wooden boat.
Those were the days.
(The End)
