Why does everything taste better in Japan?

Last week, I wrote about spending an evening near Tokyo Station doing little more than watching the city move around me. Sitting there, I found myself wondering about all the people crossing the street and the lives they were heading back to at the end of the day. It was one of those moments that reminded me how much of a city is built on the work of individuals we never really notice.

A few days later, I was sitting in Clinton St. Baking Company in Aoyama, looking at a plate of French toast that had absolutely no business being as good as it was.

The funny thing is that there's nothing particularly Japanese about it. It's American-inspired comfort food. I've eaten versions of the same dish in plenty of places over the years. Yet somehow, in Japan, even food that didn't originate there often seems to reach a different level.

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