Strawberries and surrenders

It turns out that I have a connection—albeit tenuous—to the events in Tokyo Bay 70 years ago.

In the summer between my sophomore and junior year in college I met a retired rear admiral who, as a very junior officer, had been one of the scores of men hanging off of every possible vantage point on the USS Missouri to watch the Japanese sign the instrument of surrender.

He was an interesting man, quite active well into retirement. But I’m sorry to say that the only other thing I remember about him (aside from his brush with history) is that my recipe for Strawberries Romanoff came from him.

It was the first recipe I ever had that used booze (Cointreau), and it made me feel ultra-cosmopolitan to have such a thing. Even though I didn’t have Cointreau and had no legal means of acquiring it. I think I was also somewhat vague about the whipping cream, because I’d never seen that on the hoof, only in those squirty cans.

I mean—it was a whole new world for me.

So, for me, the picture of Japanese officials in morning coats and top hats bending over the table to sign the document that ended their empire will always lie alongside the taste of summer strawberries floating in a sea of vanilla ice cream, slightly whipped cream and Cointreau.

And I believe that that’s as good a way to do history as any.