Today my best galpal and I went to have a comfort food lunch. Meat loaf, steaming hot biscuits, mac and cheese, lasagne, and buttery mashed potatoes might be what you mentally conjure when you think comfort foods, but for me, it's oyaku donburi (pictured). Japanese to English translation: chicken and egg rice bowl. Oyaku means mother and child in Japanese- thus, the chicken and egg. I don't care which came first when I eat this delicious food with a cup of very hot green tea and crisp radishes. The tea I gingerly hold with my hands cupped only at the bottom as is the custom. The second we walked into the little restaurant, heard irrasshaimase (welcome) and saw the sushi counter, the wood, the paper decorations, the limited menu, the crowded tables, and then, smelled the wafts of miso soup under our noses, we knew we were in the right place. My friend isn't Japanese but she has lived there twice and loves Japanese food. I came by it genetically. I grew up eating osoba (noodles) or rice with pickles for breakfast. Sometimes before school on a cold day I would pour my green tea into my rice to make soup and sprinkle with furikake (Japanese dried seasoning). Sometimes I still do. Much like a hot crusty baguette, rice is my staff. We read the menu with indecision. We wanted it all. Once we decided we couldn't order fast enough. We had "kid, hobby, education(we both teach), what's new?" talk as we swapped plates and bowls after every couple of bites to be sure we had completely indulged our palates. All the while as my chopsticks picked up morsels of food I had thoughts of childhood, school, meals with my mom, and smells from our kitchens past. That is true comfort.