“Oh my god, Kiyomi!”
My friend at graduate school shouted as we ate noodle dishes at a Chinese restaurant. Both of us were graduate students in Mass Communications, studying as foreign students in San Jose, California. It was my first year in the United States, freshly moved from Japan.
Born and raised in Japan, America felt familiar to me—I listened to American pop music, watched TV shows, ate hamburgers and spoke funny “Japan-glish” (Japanese-made English) without thinking too much about the origin of the language. Terms like “salaryman” (meaning businessmen) or “my pace” (meaning one’s own pace) were part of my daily vocabulary. I thought I understood American cultures and manners.
However, during the meal, my friend, who is from Taiwan, was surprised when she heard me slurp my noodle. Slurping noodles is a common practice in Japan, and for a certain type of noodles, like soba, it is even considered proper etiquette. I knew I was not supposed to make any noise while eating Western food. In Japan, many schools even provide etiquette classes that include instructions on how to eat Western cuisine. Yet, I was caught off guard when I realized that cultural differences existed even among Asian cuisines. That moment made me reflect on my identity, and for the first time, the word “Nikkei” came to my mind.
“I am Nijohnjin!” I thought.
Now twenty-seven years later, I am still in the United States. With my husband and two sons, I have created a complex Nikkei family. My husband’s family is originally from Brazil—his parents immigrated to the United States, making him a Nisei (second generation). Since I am Issei (first generation), what would our sons be? Nisei or Sansei (third generation)? I never knew Brazil had the largest Japanese community outside of Japan until I met my husband.
Although my husband and sons visit Japan regularly, they have never lived there. I must admit that I have not fully passed down many Japanese traditions while raising them. Some customs are tied to geography. Japan experiences four distinct seasons, and many cultural events align with them. In spring, people admire cherry blossoms, symbolizing a fresh start as the fiscal or school years begin in April. But, in Northern California, where we live, cherry blossoms sometime bloom as early as February.
The strongest “Nikkei” influence in our family is through food. We love cooking and eating Japanese cuisine. In the United States, Japanese food is often regarded as high-end, like sushi or kaiseki, but many everyday Japanese dishes are affordable and easy to prepare.
Born in Hokkaido, I grew up surrounded by fresh seafood, daily products and produce. Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island, is encircled by the ocean, making seafood an essential part of life. My father was passionate about fishing, so our home was always stocked with fresh fish, crabs and shrimp. Eating fresh seafood with a dash of soy sauce and wasabi was enough – no elaborate preparation required.
One of my father’s specialties is salmon roe picked in soy sauce. It was a household staple, with many frozen containers stored for future use. Every morning, I ate freshly cooked white sticky rice with salmon roe and nori seaweed. My parents never used the “Keep warm” function on the rice cooker, believing freshly cooked rice is the ultimate gochiso (feast).
Living in the States, I have limited access to fresh ingredients, but I hope to pass down other aspects of Nikkei cuisine to my sons who are fortunate enough to embrace three cultures. I just need to make sure they understand good manners – so they do not experience the same embarrassment I once did!
© 2025 Kiyomi Hiraoka
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