Based on the author’s true heartbreak story that went viral, and was discovered in Japan by the editor of the four-million-copy bestseller Twenty-nine-year-old Momoko has been tragically dumped. She thought she and her boyfriend were soulmates. He even took her to a love hotel, where she believed he was going to propose. Instead, he left her after four years. So Momoko does what many broken-hearted people do--she gets incredibly drunk. So drunk that she passes out in an empty cafe. When she awakens, she’s eager to tell her story to anyone who will listen, and pours her heart out to a curious manager and the sole other customer in the cafe, a monk who trains at a temple nearby. When she starts to describe how she doted on her boyfriend, how he loved her cooking, the manager decides to indulge her, and allows her to slip into the kitchen, and cook up her ex’s favorite dish: a warm, delightful butter chicken curry. As Momoko finishes telling her story, she realizes this combination of cooking and sharing has healed her heart in a way nothing else can. The cafe is failing--subpar curry and a remote location has led to months of financial troubles. But as he devours Momoko’s dish, the manager gets an idea about how to save the business: what if they started doing this regularly, inviting in patrons to share stories about breakups, heartbreaks, and tragic endings, cooking dishes that meant something to the relationship? Like an unconventional therapy group, the “Ex-Boyfriend’s Favorite Recipe Funeral Committee” is born, with Momoko leading the Friday night sessions, and the monk-in-training offering blessings. Inspired by the author’s actual experience working at a café where she posted a recipe called “My Ex’s Favorite Butter Chicken Curry,” <The Ex-Boyfriend’s Favorite Recipe Funeral Committee< is a magical, soul-nourishing comfort read for anyone who has loved and lost and loved again. With eight recipes included!...

Autorentext

Saki Kawashiro was born in Tokyo, Japan. An avid reader, after graduating from college she worked as a bookseller in Fukuoka, in Southern Japan. While manager of the store’s cafe she invented a recipe for the café menu—“My Ex-Boyfriend’s Favorite Butter Chicken Curry”—which included a vignette about their breakup, which went viral. Author Toshikazu Kawaguchi (Before the Coffee Gets Cold) made an appearance at her bookstore and Mr. Kawaguchi’s editor inspired Saki to write a novel about her adventures, and she became Saki’s editor. The result is The Ex-Boyfriend’s Favorite Recipe Funeral Committee, which is Saki’s first novel.

Yuka Maeno is a translator, editor, and subtitler working in English and Japanese. Her Japanese to English literary translations include The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop by Takuya Asakura. Originally from Nagoya, Japan, she currently lives in Bray, Ireland.

Klappentext

What ingredients do you need to cure a broken heart? This soul-nourishing comfort read is for anyone who has loved and lost—and wants to love again.

Twenty-nine-year-old Momoko has been tragically dumped. She thought her boyfriend was her soulmate. She believed he was going to propose. Instead, he broke things off at a love hotel.

So Momoko does what many broken-hearted people do—she gets incredibly drunk. So drunk that she passes out in a nearly empty café. When she awakens, she’s eager to tell her story to anyone who will listen and pours her heart out to a curious manager and the sole other customer in the café, a Buddhist monk in training. As Momoko describes how she doted on her ex and how he loved her cooking, the manager decides to indulge her by allowing her to slip into the kitchen and cook up her former beau’s favorite dish: a warm, delightful butter chicken curry.

As Momoko finishes telling her story, she realizes that this combination of cooking and sharing has stopped the flow of her constant tears. And the manager has a brilliant idea.

What if they started doing this regularly, inviting patrons to share stories about heartbreak while cooking dishes that held significance in their relationships? Thus, an unconventional therapy group, the “Ex-Boyfriend’s Favorite Recipe Funeral Committee,” is born.

Based on the author’s viral heartbreak story, this is a charming novel (with recipes) about a woman who uses the power of a warm meal to bring together the fellow lonely hearts in this small suburb of Tokyo.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

My Ex-Boyfriend’s Favorite Butter Chicken Curry

Of all places he could’ve dumped me, he chose to do it in a love hotel. A love hotel!

Lying down in bed, I struggled to stifle a sob.

I didn’t want to hold back. I wanted to bawl my eyes out. I wanted to howl and wail and let out every sound I had inside of me with so much intensity that you would be able to actually see the emotions pouring out of my mouth. But instead, I bit my lip. I had to save what was left of my dignity.

And that was because Kyohei Takanashi—the jerk who’d just broken up with me—was lying on the other side of the bed, purposefully leaving enough space so that an adult could have fit between us. He was facing away, so I couldn’t tell if he was fully asleep. There was no way I could let him know that he had broken my heart. Whatever I did, I wasn’t going to let him feel sorry for me.

Grabbing the charging cable by my pillow, I drew my phone toward me and checked the time under the covers. My eyes were burning from the tears, and the blue light didn’t help. It was already two in the morning. I had been in bed for at least thirty minutes, but I was never going to sleep. Instead, my nose began to run as a new flood of tears spilled from my eyes.

Taking care not to disturb Kyohei, I gently stretched my arm over to put my phone back. At that moment, my fingers touched a plastic wrapper. It was an unused condom.

Had he planned on it? He must have put it there for us. If only I had known. If only . . .

I felt a surge of emotion I couldn’t decipher: Regret? Shame? Whatever it was, it welled up inside of me, as the tears kept coming.

It wasn’t that I really wanted to sleep with him and was frustrated we hadn’t. It wasn’t that. I just . . . I’d just thought that he was the one I’d marry. That there would be no one else for me. But our love, which had lasted four years, had come to an abrupt and humiliating end. On a hotel bed far bigger than necessary, our relationship shattered to pieces and vanished entirely.

•

It smelled like a mix of spices, and I thought of the time I had made butter chicken curry for Kyohei. He’d put away three whole bowls of it in one sitting, and I’d called it the “Kyohei curry” ever since.

I guess I won’t be making that ever again. But wait . . . why am I smelling curry right now?

I opened my eyes. I could see the grain pattern of a wooden table and realized I had been sleeping with my face down. I groaned in pain as I struggled to lift my head and get my bearings. I noticed I was sitting on a comfortable sofa, and that I had a splitting headache. It felt as though my head was being crushed and ground up in a stone mill. My vision was blurry, and bits of mascara fell off my lashes as I rubbed my eyelids.

Where am I?

There was nothing familiar about the place. It looked as if it might be a café. There was an antique cuckoo clock and a small TV to my left. Coffee cups and books, as well as a snow globe, were mixed among a collection of antique items on the display shelves. A dusty smell—that smell you can only find …