The Japanese bento puts the American sack lunch to shame. During my elementary school years, my doting mother would spend an hour-plus preparing bento for me each morning. These Japanese-style lunches were artistic masterpieces. She would first lay down a neat rectangle of rice with ripples of seaweed (that was the ocean). Then she added sausage, cut carefully at the ends into eight, splayed “legs” (the octopus inhabiting said ocean.) It was tasty, healthy, and most important, super kawaii. Come lunch time, I was always proud to pull out my elaborate bento. It was clear to me, observing my classmates’ peanut butter sandwiches (not even cut into triangles!) and bruised apples that my parents loved me a lot more than theirs loved them.The bento, of course, is a beloved tradition in Japanese cuisine. They’re often prepared by mother and wives at home, but it’s just as common for people in a rush pick them up at the convenience store, supermarket, or train station. I wanted Slavko to try one, but given my Japanese cooking is limited to yakisoba and tonkatsu, decided to leave the task of creating an aesthetically-pleasing bento to the Uwajimaya Gods at 600 5th Ave South.As you can see from the above photo, they certainly design a bento with finesse, although it lacks my mother’s lovely ocean-theme. This bento came with the works; broiled black cod seasoned with soy sauce, prawn tempura, fried chicken, calamari, tofu, and egg. An umeboshi (picked plum) sat atop the rice, a splash of red that made the entire meal look very much like the Japanese flag. I pointed this out with delight, Slavko asked if I would hurry up and take a photo so he could eat. I obliged, because he gets grumpy when he’s hungry. I looked on worriedly at first, expecting him to complain that the food was cold. “It’s traditionally eaten this way,” I explained. But it turned out, he wasn’t as finicky as I thought.”I like it!” he said.As he wolfed down the cod and calamari, he noted, “It’s quick, convenient, and really good… like a TV dinner.” “A TV dinner?””Well, but classier and with better presentation. I would rather eat this than a Hungry-Man XXL meal, obviously.” Slavko’s new worst enemy. Good save on that answer. But he didn’t love the entire bento. Per usual, he skipped the tofu, scoffing “Pass! No taste!” He also gave up on the chicken after a small bite, explaining, “There’s something about cold chicken that doesn’t taste right.”What really got him though, was the umeboshi. To be fair, it’s an acquired taste. It’s a pickled, pitted plum that packs an intense salty-sour flavor. Think of the taste of vinegar and multiply that by 10. Slavko paused when he saw the tiny red ball, then picked it up with his chopsticks and took a bite.”WOW.”That’s all he said. Then he shook his head and set the umeboshi back down. “Worse than tofu?” I asked curiously. “Tofu doesn’t have a taste. This thing has too much taste.””It’s really good for you. Japanese people swear by it,” I said.”I bet.””An umeboshi a day keeps the doctor away!””I’ll stick with an apple, thank you very much.”