How ‘Terrace House’ became my favorite food show
The show is far more relaxed than ’Big Brother,’ but aside from the six housemates, the undisputed seventh superstar of this show is… cue drumroll, please… the food.
Truth i s I’ve never been a fan of Japanese food. The closest thing to it that I enjoyed growing up was our kitchen’s version of tempura — far from the traditional and more akin to camaron rebosado, paired with sweet and sour sauce. Yikes! For most of my teenage years, my family and I barely ate at Japanese restaurants; and on those rare times, it was only to have our fill of sweetish chicken teriyaki from Teriyaki Boy or the occasional celebratory teppanyaki at Kimpura. For buffets, we gravitated towards Dads more than Saisaki. Sashimi, sushi, and every permutation of sliced raw fish were out of the question. Shocking, I know.
But change has come, friends. I don’t miss out on the wonders of Japanese fare anymore. Because I have been introduced to — and likewise, I now regularly crave for — crispy golden
kushikatsu, fluffy omurice, piping-hot sukiyaki, perfectly grilled yakiniku, and flavor-loaded shabu-shabu (which I’ve only had twice in my whole life; please send me suggestions for the best ones in the metro) via my new favorite guilty pleasure, Netflix’s Terrace House.
That list of Japanese food I want to eat right now can actually take up the rest of this column, thanks to the plethora of food featured on the Japanese reality show. Terrace House follows the (very) normal life of three men and three women who live in one beautifully designed home in Tokyo. Without drama and catfights in the equation, the show is far more relaxed than
Big Brother, and rather focuses on the six housemates’ aspirations and how they individually and collectively achieve those desires. It is also a voyeuristic peek into the world of young Japanese adults, all hopeless romantics in the search for their true loves. The gist is: it’s really, really good; and it’s for that simple reason — its seeming simplicity — that you should get started on it. Thank me later!
But aside from the six housemates, the undisputed seventh superstar of this show is… cue drumroll, please… the food. No episode is lacking in glorious food shots that are given way more screen time than how Asian Food Channel or the Food Network shows present their food. I have a hunch that the show has its own food stylist, who makes it all too pretty to eat. Interestingly enough, food also plays a big part in their culture and relationships: It seems to be major plus points to Japanese men when the women can cook. Yes, Terrace House offers what any good food show wants its audience to feel and does so in excellent fashion, without even really meaning to. The show makes you absolutely, unbelievably hungry; so much so that I’ve caught myself pressing the pause button just so I can ogle at the tight food shots. Imagine: excellently cropped frames focused on sukiyaki, graciously boiling on top of the stove. Once you see the DIY hand-rolled temaki sushi party in the first episode, you’ll realize that I’m not exaggerating at all. Spoiler alert, but expect homemade chirashi sushi bowls on the second episode and an okonomiyaki lesson on the third.
The show acquaints viewers with Tokyo’s dining scene. It reveals some of Japan’s food-themed destinations like a cup noodle museum and a make-your-own
soba class. It introduces dishes you’ve never heard of (ever tried hayashi rice?) and teaches you how to make hambagu, curry, and ahi poke from scratch; it suggests using leftovers to come up with a whole new dish for the following day; and it was even successful in creating drama centered around food (the biggest fight in the house involved a pricy cut of Japanese steak). Terrace House allows its viewers to watch other people eating — lingeringly, unapologetically, indulgently. How could something so simple be so satisfying? Itadakimasu!