You know you've turned Japanese when you can eat everything in your "o-bento." Especially if it's a funeral o-bento, built to last for three days, like the one I received recently at a "hojii" ceremony, which are like followup funerals. Today, I invite you to a grazing session through my o-bento.
First, we open the o-bento box, which looks much like a square briefcase. Personally, I wish o-bentos really were served in briefcases so you could leave the lid up for privacy while hovering with chopsticks in hand, picking through your food while wondering, "What the hell is this?"
The o-bento is divided into sections, like a high school cafeteria tray. To the foreigner, at first glance, the o-bento looks like it tipped over in the briefcase and scattered the ingredients. You'll find small portions, such as five white beans, sitting in a piece of foil. "Where are the other beans?" you ask. The answer is "nowhere." All five of them are there. The o-bento is an attempt to fit the entire food chain in one box.