"You know that's not a..."

I had been traveling for almost three straight days by the afternoon of my first real day in Japan and I was exhausted and famished.  For that night, my sister had arranged for us to stay at a Buddhist Monastery and we were to have for dinner a traditional Buddhist Monks vegan meal.  As we sat there on the floor in the dining room, I couldn’t wait for dinner even though I knew I probably wouldn’t recognize anything but maybe noodles or rice and the tea.

When they brought out to us our trays, set them down in front of us, I didn’t say a word.  I just sat there and stared for what seemed like a mere moment to me.  However, my eyes and possibly a grin must have lingered for longer than I remember because as I sat there gleefully looking at my tray I heard my sister from across the floor simply say,

“You know that’s not a cookie.”

But it was, it was the best-looking cookie I think I could ever remember seeing at that exact moment in time.  Perfectly round, plump in the middle as though it had just come out of the oven, and those specs of chocolate chips perfectly proportioned, as only a well skilled and trained Monk must know how to do.

This utterance of my sisters puzzled me, so I calmly went to pick it up – and I was momentarily horrified as it jiggled – what horrible Buddhist trickery was this?

“Your right, it’s not a cookie” I defeatedly mumbled.

My perfect cookie was Tufu with something that was most likely seaweed or some other strange sea vegetable.  I ate my rice, drank my tea, and wished I had my cookie.