As I slid open the lattice door and stepped inside, I wondered if the place would live up to its name.
I was greeted warmly and led into a waiting room with a large “irori,” an open fire pit full of slow-burning embers covered in a conical pile of ash resembling Mt. Fuji. Several other guests were already there, some dressed in kimono. We were served tea and sipped it slowly, enjoying the warmth and nostalgia provided by this old-fashioned, smokeless heating system. “Tea,” I mused. “They actually serve tea here.”
When it was time to begin we were shown to the large wooden staircase leading to the second floor where the dinner show was to be held. The building itself was the kind of wooden post-and-beam construction typical in Japan, but the stairs were anything but typical.
 

Above all, it was the music, with its unusual scales and tones, that set the mood for the evening. It was as enchanting as one would expect. I was reminded that the “gei” in geisha means “technique.” And it was obvious from their performance that they had trained long and hard for this evening. For the last number, they asked for volunteers from the audience to help beat the taiko. One geisha came to my side and very kindly volunteered me. I did my best considering my lack of rhythm. Nonetheless, all of the geisha agreed that my taiko performance was impeccable. But I have some reason to doubt their sincerity.
Returning to my seat, I found dessert waiting for me in a large two-tiered bowl. Removing the lid, I was surprised to see that it contained—gold! That’s right! The top bowl was full of sweet molasses covered in a solid layer of gold leaf. Setting it to the side, I found the bottom bowl contained noodles of “kuzukiri” (a kind of tuber) on ice. The idea is to dip the noodles in the gold-covered molasses before eating them.