"Itadakimasu"—What I Learned from the Dinner Table

A long time ago, I lived in Aix-en-Provence, in the south of France.

I was still getting used to life there, and one of the few things I looked forward to was the food prepared by Grandma Denise, who ran the boarding house.

She was a wonderful cook.

As summer approached and the temperatures gradually rose, fresh salads would appear on the table.

When the weather turned chilly, warm vegetable soup would be served.

As the seasons changed, the dishes on the table gradually changed, too.

As she served the food, Grandma would always say,

“Bon appétit!”

And then I would begin my meal.

“Bon appétit” and “Itadakimasu”

“Bon appétit” seems a little similar to the Japanese “itadakimasu.”

Both are phrases used before a meal.

But when you think about them carefully, there is a subtle difference between the two.

The French “Bon appétit” means

“Enjoy your meal,”

a phrase directed toward the person who is about to eat.

The Japanese “itadakimasu,” on the other hand, expresses the act of receiving the food with gratitude.

It is often translated literally as,

“I humbly receive this.”

So,

what exactly are we receiving when we say “itadakimasu”?

Since I was a child, I have put my hands together and said “itadakimasu” before meals.

But I had never really stopped to think deeply about what those words meant.

Back in Karatsu, I began to look at the dining table differently.

After returning to Japan, I sometimes began preparing meals for my aging father.

My father loves to eat.

He especially loves fish, so I buy fresh fish at the Karatsu fish market and make sashimi.

When I go to the market for vegetables, I find seasonal vegetables lined up there.

As I look at them, I think,

“I’ll quickly blanch these and make ohitashi.”

“I’ll deep-fry these and simmer them in a rich broth.”

“What kind of seasoning would bring out their flavor?”

“I should use ichiban dashi for this.”

I think about such things.

I really enjoy the time I spend cooking.

And then, choosing the dishes

Once the meal is prepared, it is time to choose the dishes.

Dishes that make the colors of the ingredients look beautiful.

For a soupy dish, perhaps a slightly deeper bowl.

Dishes that make the food easy to eat and beautiful to look at.

“Which one is right?”

The time I spend choosing dishes and thinking about how each one will suit the food is also one of my favorite parts.

And when I had arranged everything on the table, I noticed something.

Beyond a single dish

Rain falls on the mountains.

The water seeps into the earth, eventually becoming spring water, then flowing into rivers.

Along those rivers, people cultivate fields and grow crops.

The water that flows from the mountains through the rivers and eventually to the sea also sustains life in the ocean.

Fishermen catch fish in the sea.

We buy that fish at the market.

There are people who cook the food,

and people who make the vessels that hold it.

When I think about it this way, so many people, together with nature, are involved in the single dish in front of me.

“Itadakimasu.”

With that thought, I began to feel a little differently about the word “itadakimasu.”

The people who prepared the food.

The people who grew the ingredients.

The people who caught the fish.

The people who made the vessels.

And the land, water, and sea that nurtured those ingredients.

Even when we are dining alone,

that dining table was never created by one person alone.

Our dining table exists within a web of connections between people and nature.

That is why, today, before my meal, I will say,

“Itadakimasu.”