A woman’s touch

Tonight I’m at my favourite okonomiyaki place and the master (male) who normally cooks is away. 

His wife who is more than capable of running the whole place by herself is the one to cook my meal. 

I know this sounds insane but it tastes softer somehow. Just as delicious but different. Soft, like it has a woman’s touch. Like she’s put her love and care and tenderness into it. 

Even stranger is that the flavours are more subtle, more delicate. 

At the end of the meal as I pay her I say, “おいしかったですよ!” That was delicious. She looks surprised. She apologises again that it wasn’t master who cooked it. 

I walk away satisfied for the first time in a long time. 

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