You are learning dish descriptions: you will read the scene it happens in, learn 10 words and phrases, take apart the pattern behind them (dish description language), hear them in a conversation, rehearse them, and finish by saying one thing out loud to be graded.
At the tempura counter, the chef or server describes each piece as it's placed before you. Understanding and responding to these explanations — briefly, warmly — is an art form.
Course by course, Chef Kondo places pieces on the white paper in front of the stranger. Each is explained briefly by the assistant: the ingredient, the region, sometimes the farmer.
A deep purple rectangle appears. 「こちらは北海道産の茄子でございます。塩でどうぞ。」 From Hokkaido. With salt. The stranger lifts it. Bites. The outside is shatteringly crisp — sakusaku — the inside a cream of eggplant so soft it collapses. 「絶品です！」
Chef Kondo glances over. A slight smile. He adjusts the oil temperature by one degree.
Next: a sliver of lotus root, cross-sectioned so the holes become windows of batter. 「これは何ですか。」 — 「れんこんでございます。京都産です。」 Renkon, from Kyoto.
「初めて食べました。おいしい！」 He means it with full sincerity. The chef hears it. That is enough.