Kitaōji Rosanjin | Translation Archive 00002 | Cooking | Shard 00006

So, You Want to Cook, 1953 | Excerpt

Translated from the Japanese by Christopher Southward, Summer 2026

There once was a man who, having lost his wife, found himself living alone. One day, he got an idea:

I’ll have to start by finding some land—a nice fertile plot—and when I find it, I’m going to grow vegetables. I’ll get to eat vegetables every day!

But instead of searching for the land, he just lay around the house, growing hungry all the while, of course, so he nibbled on a bit of bread. The next day, he thought to himself:

Forget about the vegetables! I think I’ll raise cattle, maybe even few hogs, and I’ll feast on all the tasty meat!

But, here too, the man only lay around the house. Hungry again, he finished off his last crust of bread and now found himself growing somewhat depressed.

One day, he thought to himself:

I may be a widower, but at least I can feed myself. I can even cook, and with a little work, I could put together a nicely serviceable kitchen, bright and efficient.

But the man did nothing in the end. His stomach grumbled, and while he’d have given anything for a bit of bread, it turns out that his breadbox was bare, so he munched on a few raw grains of rice instead and thought:

Wait, wait! A kitchen would be nice, but if I’m going to have a kitchen, then I’ll need to get a loose-fitting outfit … something that’ll let me move freely about … Yes, this is the most important thing!

His wife had left an apple lying on a rack standing in a corner of the room, so that, forgetting the outfit, the man ate the apple instead.

His depression grew, and he thought:

That’s it! I’ll plant an orchard! Nothing beats fruit picked fresh from the tree!

Still, he did nothing but nibble on his raw grains of rice.

And so, the man continued filling himself with all sorts of grandiose plans without lifting a finger to do the slightest bit of work to fulfill them, all the while losing weight until his limbs began withering away. There wasn’t a single scrap of food in the house: not a grain of rice; not a piece of fruit — nothing. Still, the man went on thinking, filling his head with lofty ideas while his limbs shrank to skin and bones, and his ribs began to show.

When his food finally ran out, the man fell to eating his legs, still thinking, still filling his head with glorious plans, so that, now, his cupboards being bare, he scarfed down his torso and arms.