Diary of an Aging Writer

I The sashimi knife was of the Yanagiba type and dangerously sharp. Lydia bought the knife as part of her collection of kitchen knives. An adventurous cook, she ventured into Japanese cuisine almost as soon as we moved into our two-story house in Yokohama.   She learned from a sushi chef the correct way of slicing the fish in one smooth pull of the knife from its base to the tip. In time she was able to cut the maguro blocks we bought fresh from the fish market into thin slices effortlessly one slice after another. Lydia loved to cook and invited friends over for meals. Inevitably, after eating, the friends would praise Lydia culinary talents. “Claude, you’re so lucky to be married to Lydia. A superb cook. A gracious hostess. Charming. And, you lucky devil, attractive. Why, she could model for a fashion magazine.” I uttered the appropriate replies husbands give when hearing how wonderful their wives were. “Yeah, I guess I am lucky at that.” Of course, only I knew about her little idios