THE OREGONIAN, FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 1999

Scents, reminiscenses flavor Japanese lunch

A church basement becomes a scene of comfort, peace and tranquility

By ANGELA CARA PANCRAZIO of The Oregonian staff

Mitsuko Brittle holds a pot while Tomie Kristiansen pours in the rice vinegar. Asako Kyono fries a mixture of eggs, milk and sugar. Lil Kiyokawa chops Kyono’s omelette. Takae Okazaki spoons onions into a maze of soup bowls. Yonako Dozono divvies up chunks of crab among those same bowls. They’re a team.

With aprons knotted around their waists, graying hair tucked under hair nets, the women are dressed to win. They slide around the kitchen with the synergy of the 1998 World Champions, the New York Yankees.

When one moves out of position, another moves in and takes her place, making the right play at the right time, waving straw fans over pans of carrots and rice.

It’s game day. Words are few. The women, most in their 70s and 80s, know what they need to do. Everything must come together at the same time. Broth to the brim of the orange bowls, the tofu, fish cake, bamboo shoots, peas, the carrots, rice and pink-pickled ginger. A winning recipe.

Outside the kitchen, the fans wait. Their field, a church basement, may seem like an unlikely place for a dream. But for two decades, first, second- and now third generation Japanese Americans have walked under the sign that reads “Ikoi no kai,” gathering in the basement of the Epworth United Methodist Church in Southeast Portland. For the seniors in the church basement, Ikoi no kai means comfortable place, peaceful, tranquil.

More than 20 years ago younger Japanese Americans wanted to give something back to the Issei, the first generation. They recognized the Issei were getting older and could benefit from a hot lunch program like Loaves & Fishes. Their dietary needs were different. Physically, they no longer could take the time to prepare pare their own meals. They needed a program where they could eat Japanese food in a social setting, speak their own language and be understood by people who shared the same history.

It took a couple of years of paperwork and meetings. On Valentine’s Day 1979, Ikoi no kai opened in the church basement at 1333 S.E. 28th Ave.
From one table to the next, Portland’s tight-knit Japanese American community sits in its hall of fame.

In the back of the room, sharing a table set for eight, five women remember their grade school, Atkinson school, near the heart of Chinatown and what was once Japantown. Now, the faces of Rose Niguma, Isabella Low, Lucy Sue, Chiyo Oga and Hazel Lee reflect the school that was filled with Chinese and Japanese children from the neighborhood.

The school closed in 1938, and the wooden building was torn down a couple of years later. The war came. The Japanese American friends were ordered to internment camps. Later, as they raised their families, they lost touch.

“For 30, 40 years,” Hazel Lee says, “we didn’t see each other. We got old and come to the senior center and see each other.”

Not far from the Atkinson school alumni, Katsumi Nakadate stands next to his son, Jim Nakadate. Jim twirls his father’s ball cap in his fingers. The front of the cap reads “Oregon Nisei baseball, 1930-49.” Katsumi pitched for the Salem Yamato. Second-generation Japanese Americans– Nisei– shared the love of the great American pastime with a league of their own.
Katsumi, now 85, a World War II disabled airborne veteran, still feels the honor of his Silver Star, Bronze Star and Purple Heart with three clusters. He became a physician and served his community at the Ikoi no kai.

As a Nisei, he says, “I felt that I owed the seniors who are the first generation. My mother and father were first generation.”

In the beginning, Katsumi came to the program to take their blood pressure, as many as 70 blood pressure readings in one day. Soon, he began to give them flu shots.

Now, the retired anesthesiologist has come to the age at which he sits at the same table, but he still makes sure he takes his friends’ blood pressure.

Matsuno Ota comes to Ikoi no kai, too. She was born in 1916 in Portland. Her mother and father, who immigrated from Okayama, Japan, started making and selling tofu shortly after her birth. The family business survived war, internment and still produces much of the tofu consumed in Portland area restaurants.

Ikoi no kai has survived, too. Веcause of the community, the volunteers, the farmers who make sure the cooks always have enough napa cabbage for tsukemono, or pickled cabbage.

And because of the cooks in the kitchen who wait until the basement is empty to pick up their chopsticks.

Photo Caption 1:
Diners at the Ikoi no kai celebrate birthdays at the end of each month with cake, candles, flowers and song. Harue Ninomiya blows out her candle.

Photo Caption 2:
Every Tuesday and Thursday, Tomie Kristiansen (left) leads a kitchen full of volunteers to prepare traditional Japanese food at the Japanese lunch program in Southeast Portland. Mitsuko Brittle helps with the lunch. American cuisine is served the rest of the week.

Photos by ANGELA CARA PANCRAZIO/The Oregonian