In the same essay, Lisa Jobs describes a dinner with her father in Tokyo. They are in the iconic ’60s-modernist Hotel Okura―a space that so exemplifies Apple’s design ethos that I conflate it with the interior of a Macintosh.
Seated in the restaurant “with its high ceilings and low couches,” they abandon vegetarianism and eat cooked eel and sushi:
“He ordered too many pieces, knowing we wouldn’t be able to finish them. … It was the first time I’d felt, with him, so relaxed and content, over those trays of meat; the excess, the permission and warmth after the cold salads,
meant a once inaccessible space had opened. He was less rigid with himself, even human under the great ceilings with the little chairs, with the meat, and me.”
