In Okinawa, a market is called a machigwaa. Step inside, and the fish on the counters are colors you won't find on the mainland — the vivid, improbable blues and reds of tropical reef species. Alongside them: pork in every conceivable form, because Okinawan cooking uses everything the animal provides, including the face, the feet, and the organs. Island vegetables, island tofu, pickled things in jars. This is not like other Japanese markets. The market opened in 1950, grown from the black markets that kept people fed in the ruins of postwar Naha. The building was rebuilt in 2023, but the atmosphere — the sellers, the noise, the smell of the sea — has not changed in any way that matters. There is a custom here called mochi-age: bring it upstairs. You choose your fish or meat on the first floor, pay for it, carry it up the stairs, and hand it to one of the restaurant cooks on the second floor, who will prepare it for you — grilled, simmered, fried, however you like — for a small fee. The market and the meal are one transaction, separated only by a flight of stairs.