The Scent of Shiso

Having spent thirty four hours flying halfway around the globe with family in tow, I was bone tired. Maybe more than tired.  I had an excruciating headache that wouldn't quit despite multiple remedies tried.  Maybe it was a mixture of dehydration, jet lag, and the uncertainty of a new job the Navy had waiting for me.  All I knew was that I felt terrible.  Maybe a quick meal would help as the family readied and we ventured out for our first evening meal in Japan.
We found ourselves at a restaurant not far from our hotel. Located on the fifth floor of what looked like a small office building located along the perimeter of Camp Lester. Kina's Kitchen was it's name and it specialized in Japanese foods and on Sundays a mixture of a Japanese and American buffet.  I ordered a sushi plate.  Not that I liked sushi.  I had never eaten it before that evening in 1990, I just knew I should try it and probably get used to it since I would be stationed here for the next four years. On the plate brought to the table was a curious green leaf that I had never seen before.  It was what I would learn was a shiso leaf.  A rather large, jagged edged, soft leaf.  As I picked it out of my plate I crushed in between my palms, raised my hands to my face and enjoyed the wonderful spicy citrus fragrance.  At that moment I realized my headache was gone and I was no longer so worried about my new home.  That sentinel moment has not left me over the past quarter century.
We now grow green shiso in our garden here in Pensacola.  Each year the shiso comes back in the garden and occasionally I'll venture over to the plant, pick a leaf and crush it between my palms to release it's scent.  At that moment I am taken back to Kina's Kitchen and the certainty that all is right in my world.