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Dog Day Afternoon - Santa Monica

Posted at 12:43 AM on March 04, 2010 Comments comments (2)




Cherry Blossoms - Haiku - Santa Monica

Posted at 02:55 PM on March 01, 2010 Comments comments (0)



  


My cherry tree  

Blossoms on the pavement

of my driveway

-ss

Flour Days: Living and Kneading in Tsukiji (3)

Posted at 03:36 AM on March 01, 2010 Comments comments (0)


Zaru Soba  
Organic stone milled soba: Fukuyama, Gumma
Wheat/Soba ratio: 2/8  
Water: 42%  

-continued from Flour Days: Living and Kneading in Tsukiji (2)

GREETINGS FIRST
I got to the Soba Academy punctually at 930 am.  Akila Inouye, master chef of the Tsukiji Soba Academy and Master Chef  stood in front of the room and said,  "Let's start with proper greeting."  We bowed in unison. This kind of formality I was used to from having worked with Japanese all my life but I had never done it in a soba school. I got a little nervous.

From hereon, I will call Akila Inouye, simply Sensei, teacher. Sensei introduced me to his assistant Kotorii. He was a young man in his early thirties who completed the professional course last year.  His name means "Where the little bird lives". It was a little mismatched for someone who was nearly six feet tall. He smiled, and we bowed again.

The school provided me with a bandana and an apron.  The dress code was "comfortable clothes."  I have never travelled so lightly, as I did on this trip. All I packed was my Favorite Ts from the Gap and a few pairs of jeans. Chapstick was my only make up.  Whenever I travelled somewhere in the past,  I would have a bag just my shoes.  This time, I only brought  two pairs. A pair of street shoes and a pair of sneakers to wear in class. Soba was turning me into a minimalist.

There were supposed to be two other students in the comprehensive soba course besides myself.  I was looking forward to meeting them but they had cancelled for various reasons.  Ever since the subprime mortgage crisis happened in the US, Japan has been equally hit by this global recession. My sister, Fuyuko's pastry school, which she runs out of my parents' house, was  struggling from lower attendance lately. She has had to modify her classes. I wondered if the Soba Academy was experiencing something similar. While the Academy's weekend and evening classes were easier to get people in, the professional course was a bigger financial and emotional commitment. 

For those who want to pursue a profession in soba, by the way, there are different ways you can go about it in Japan. In my case, the goal was to learn how to make good soba by hand, and taking it as far as I can. The possibilities were infinite, including going the professional route. However, it did not seem practical at my age, (you can guess I have parents who are in their eighties) to start out as a lowly apprentice in a soba-ya.  I was thrilled to find a school that can show you the whole spectrum of soba making styles, allow you to make your own choices, and even help you network and find work as a soba maker.  Plus, for the entire month, it would be a two-on-one class.  It was hard to believe the course was going ahead as scheduled with just me. 

Today was the third time meeting Akila Inouye.  Our first time was last summer when I took the beginner's class. Sensei had told me then about his plans to travel to the US to do soba demonstrations in Dallas and New York in the fall.  I suggested to Sensei that if he could make a stopover in Los Angeles, I would try to organize a soba workshop. One thing led to another and we made it happen.  That's where I met Sensei the second time. We ended up doing four soba workshops in Santa Monica. We completely sold out. (here is the link to my blog about the Soba Workshop 2009).  So I had initiated myself as a soba maker in 2009. Now I was going to get myself really dusty with flour. Maybe it was fate that brought me back to Tsukiji. 

WHERE IT ALL BEGINS 
Being a course about making soba, we naturally spent a good chunk of the time talking about mixing flour with water. Sensei draws beautiful charts and pictures on the board, and writes very legibly.  (I later learned that he was a graphic designer/lettering artist before switching full time to making and teaching soba.)  WIth soba, no dough is the same. Humidity, the quality of flour, the speed by which the mixing and kneading is done, the amount of water added to the water, Kasuiritsu; even 1 % of extra water could dramatically change the quality of the soba. Soba is really a living food.

Making dough was something familiar to me from childhood. I remember how fun it was to play in the sandbox, make mud pies, or build sand castles at the beach or play with clay.


Sifted flour


Playing with dough has always had a calming effect on me. There was my mother's dough, which she used to make apple pies. What impressed me about her dough was the enormous amount of butter she used.  She never measured. She didn't even go by a recipe. Yet, when it came to how much water to add to the dough, she was very careful. I believe she even used a measuring cup. She instinctively knew what can make or break a pie crust.  


Sifting the flour


LESS IS MORE

Trying to figure out the optimum amount of water to add to the flour, Kasuiritsu, is one of the critical tasks in soba making.  In January, Tokyo was drier than the rest of the year, ranging from 25% to 35% humidity. So the amount of water we used to make soba ranged between 41% to 45%. Most of the time, we stayed around 41-42%. We relied on the scale and the measuring spoon. A small error  can ruin your soba and your day. There was no formula for figuring out the optimal amount of water for making soba.  Experience helps. Sensei said he did not believe in adding more water than necessary because it affected the flavor and texture of the dough. Less is more, he kept saying. All I wanted at this point, was to turn out something that looked like dough, and not a crumbly mass of flour.


LET THE FLOUR TAKE A JOURNEY

After the greetings and lecture, Sensei made one batch of soba to demonstrate h is technique. I stood next to him and watched his hand movements.  With soba, the initial mixing of flour with water is done mostly with your finger tips.  Like a piano player who is playing with his finger tips standing on the keyboards. the soba maker too moves the tips of his fingers quickly, making sure that there is no flour that is sitting still.  The hand movements are circular, fingers spread apart, and thumbs pointing towards your belly.  My hands are small. It wasn't easy to keep the flour moving in the bowl. "Let the soba take a journey," Sensei would say. It reminded me of the old saying, "Send your loving child on a journey." which means that the child will mature better by learning to stand on his own feet. Same thing with soba.  The only diffference was that soba had to take the first part of this journey in 30 seconds.

 



The fingers moves quickly to bind the flour with water. 


LET'S NOT WASTE FOOD

Any flour that was stuck on the fingers were wiped off and combined with the dough in the bowl. The whole idea of cleaning the bowl and removing the flour on your finger tips  were to keep flour waste to a minimum.  In class, we used a large and heavy stainless steel bowl. I could hardly lift one myself.  The traditional soba bowls, Hachi, are made of wood and are much lighter.  The stainless steel hachi was unbreakable, and easy to clean and sanitary.


Once the initial mixing was done, the next step was to continue mixing, using the fingers again but this time with your palms. The fingers are afloat.  This step ensures that every cell of buckwheat is fed with water and there are no dry cells left. As you work the flour, you can feel the moisture in the flour building.  Now you are ready to bunch the flour together and start kneading, Neri.


GLUTEN FREE 

Buckwheat flour contains no gluten. Gluten is the Latin word for "glue". It is the glutens in wheat flour that gives kneaded dough its elasticity. So how do we bind soba if there is no gluten?   


When flour is mixed with water and kneaded, the process adds strength to the dough, elasticity and helps bind the flour together wihtout relying on gluten.   At the Academy, we practiced making 100% buckwheat soba, Kikouchi, and Nihachi, 2:8 ration of all-purpose wheat flour and buckwheat flour, and some other variations. I found Kikouchi the tastiest of all Soba. 2:8 ratio was by far the easiest to handle while retaining good flavor and adding some elasticity to the dough. Sensei didn't want to add any more than 20% wheat flour so I didn't even try going beyond that but soba makers, especially those who make dried soba use as much as 70% wheat flour and they still label the package soba, which is something that does not make any sense. So far they have gotten away with such labeling so long as it is identified in the back as its primary ingredient. 



s.  

  The Flour combined with water is darker and mosit.

It is gathered in the middle of the bowl and ready to be knead.

 



I will talk about Neri, next in Flour days: Living and Kneading in Tsukiji (4)

 



Birds - Santa Monica

Posted at 09:15 PM on February 28, 2010 Comments comments (0)








Flour Days: Living and Kneading in Tsukiji (2)

Posted at 04:07 PM on February 28, 2010 Comments comments (0)

Hot soba with Chicken and Marinated Soft Boiled
Egg and Sweetened Kabocha squash.
Flour: Manitoba, Canada
Wheat/Soba ratio: 2/8
Water: 47.5%


- Continued from Flour Days: Kneading and Living in Tsukiji (1)

The Tsukiji Soba Academy is just a stone throw away from the Tokyo Metropolitan Central Wholesale Market,. I cannot deny that the proximity to the world's biggest fish makret was one of the good reasons why I decided to enroll in this school.


Tsukiji Metro station - Hibiya line

Every morning, I rode in the packed Metro, feeling like a canned sardine. But  you can put up with such temporary discomfort if you know your destination is Tsukiji. It is like visiting an amusement park every day, even though it was nearly closing time when I got there in the morning at around 900 am.

Crosswalk in Tsukiji near Honganji temple

The wholesalers (oroshi gyosha) and buyers (Nakaoroshi-gyosha) of the market were in cleaning up mode by the time I got there. Jyonai(the inner market) closed earlier, around 11 am but Jyogai (the outer market) stayed open till about 2 pm. For the regular shoppers, there was still plenty of action to catch, good fish and other things to buy.  I used to come to the fish market with my mother a lot.  She always bought way more than she needed but that was the price you paid for coming to the world's best market for fish.


Typical fish market shopping basket

January 18, 2010

I woke up at 6 am. It was the first day of my soba course. It is always the loud sound of television that wakes me up when I am at my parent's home in Tokyo. But I wasn't about to ask my father to lower the volume for me. My father is hard of but otherwise, in pretty good shape for a nearly 88 year old person. He monitors his diet carefully.  Never eats after six. Walks everyday. Poor hearing is a minor problem in the scheme of things.  My 80 year old mother, on the other hand, had fallen ill after a bad fall three years ago, and has gone blind. She is under nurse's care and sleeps most of the time. Each day, my father selects a cd for my mother to listen to.  Sometimes, he puts on something jazzy and cheerful like Gershwin. Other times, it's a quiet hymn. My mother seems oblivious to my father kind gestures.  

I opened the window to bring in some fresh morning air into my mother's bedroom, even though it was quite chilly outside. My mother turned her head towards the window, sensing the change of light. "Open your eyes," I asked her.  It's one of the things we routinely ask her to do, even if she cannot see. She wrinkled her eye lids and tried really hard to open them. Her eyes seemed to have gotten lighter in color than they used to be. I held her hand and repeated "Good morning"  She whispers back but it is hard to decipher what she is saying. I  told her I am starting my soba course today. She appeared suprised, then nodded her head. My mother always supported me when I told her about my dreams. I knew she was trying to wish me good luck. 

My father made buckwheat pancakes for breakfast this morning. I hear him complaining that the pancakes are going cold if I don't eat them soon. When I  sat down to eat, he offered to reheat the pancakes. It was ironic that I am here in Tokyo to make soba - buckwheat noodles and what I brought back from the US is a package of buckwheat pancake mix. But that's what he always asks for.  I poured some maple syrup on my pancakes. Father has put some butter out for me.  It's been softened in the microwave so I can spread them over my pancakes easily. My father enjoys having me around. He calls himself, "the butler." Father turned the volume of the television down so we can talk.. But when I told him I had to go to my soba class soon, he was not to happy about it. He asked me the same question as he did the night before.  "Why are you enrolling in a soba course?" The only answer I can give him was what I gave him the night before. "I want to knead." 

-to be continued Flour days: Liiving and kneading in Tsukiji (3)

         

First step of a new beginning.




Chair in the garden - Santa Monica

Posted at 07:39 PM on February 27, 2010 Comments comments (0)



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Flour Days: Living and Kneading in Tsukiji (1)

Posted at 05:17 PM on February 26, 2010 Comments comments (0)


Zaru soba
Sone milled soba from Shibetsu, Hokkaido
Wheat/Soba ratio: 2:8
Water: 42.5%

After being away in Japan for two months, my pets Ana and Kinchan are ecstatic to see me back in Santa Monica. Yesterday, they followed me all day while I was unpacking my luggage and cleaning house. The almond tree in my garden is in full bloom. I am glad I did not miss the spring beat. Tonight, Kinchan wants my undivided attention. She curls up on the pillow near my computor and keeps the jet-lagged master company. Nothing beats home.

As for me, I have two homes. My home in Santa Moinca and my home in Tokyo. Every year, I go back back and forth across the Pacific Ocean like a migrating bird. This time, I had a new reason to be in Tokyo. I went back to make soba. I enrolled in a professional course designed for people who want to open a soba-ya - a soba shop.  I had only taken one soba class before. That was last summer when I took an afternoon session for beginners at the Tsukiji Soba Academy. I never thought I would take soba this seriously but I decided I would give it a try. (here is the link to my blog about the first class). 

On the evening that I arrived in Tokyo, my eighty-eight year old father with whom I was staying asked me, "But why are you making soba?"  My answer was simple.  "Because I love to eat soba. Now I want to learn how to make it. I want to knead." He turned to my sister Fuyuko who lives next door and asked her for an interpretation. He did this several times in front of me and while I was away making soba. I don't blame my father. He thought I was putting my life on hold, including my life in America and my film career to make noodles. There was nothing to hold back.  I just wanted to knead. 
 
Each morning, I left home early to catch the subway to Tsukiji from Shibuya, as my father was getting up to start the day. I have a routine of eating breakfast with him when I am back in Tokyo. He would set the table the night before and turn on the coffee maker in the morning and make toast. We always watched BS Satelite news - which gives you news clips from around the world - CNN, BBC, German, French, Spanish, Chinese, Korean TV stations. This time, I felt rushed in the morning. I had to be in at the Academy by 8 am or 9 am, often skipping this precious breakfast time. No wonder my father was a little crossed with me. At night, I would come home late with a box of soba that I had made I would collapse on my flat futon with fingers still crusted with soba dough and massage my aching back. My sister and nephew would have my soba for breakfast the next day and give me comments. No matter how hard it was each day, I loved making soba. It was like learning how to dance and speak a completely new language. 

Slowly, my father came around and tried to understand what I was doing with soba. He even invited me to have lunch at Yoshida, a vintage soba-ya that his father used to go in Ginza. My ancestors are after all, solid Edoko (Tokyo native) who ate soba. Yoshida was a traditional-style unpretentious restaurant tucked away in a quiet street.  My father pointed to the corner of the restaurant where my grandfather used to sit. I could just picture my grandfather in his dandy suit, sitting there slurping soba and drinking sake. Waitresses in aprons came up to take orders.We had hot soba with duck. I noticed that the noodles looked machine cut. The negi (Japanese green onion), too? These are details that matters to a soba maker that I was becoming. My father, I am sure noticed some of these changes, too but he didn't make a fuss about anything. Yoshida was part of our family history.  He wanted to connect three generations of soba eaters. That was the whole point of bringing me there. It was a lovely gesture.  Later, we went to have sweet azuki bean soup at Wakamatsu, another vintage Japanese pastry shop in Ginza. It was a rainy day but we did everything we set out to do that day. I have many stories like this to tell.  I will start from the beginning.

Early on during my soba training in Tsukiji, I realized there would not be that much time to blog about my soba making experience. So I took mental notes,and decided to work backwards in time to tell you my soba stories later. These stories involve being in Tsukiji every day, working with flour and water, lots of fish, drinking warm sake, and meeting passionate people who love Soba. Soba is by nature not an easy flour to bind together. It takes wisdom and patience to make these thin and long noodles. I learned these facts on the first day of the course, and I am still learning.

Note: Blog will continue in Kneading and Living in Tsukiji (2)


 


Sleeping Beauty - Santa Monica

Posted at 12:27 AM on February 22, 2010 Comments comments (0)









Sweet Azuki Beans Soup with Mochi - Zensai

Posted at 02:20 AM on February 01, 2010 Comments comments (0)


Sweet azuki beans soup with Toasted Mochi

I realized that during my first year of blogging, I only made six dessert entries.  This is very little for someone who loves sweets.  There is a reason.  At home in Santa Monica, noone cares for sweets but me.  So making desserts is not on my priority list. But here in Tokyo, I practically live in my sister Fuyuko's pastry atelier. Everyone takes desserts seriously so if I make a batch of something, there are plenty of people willing to taste my creations. 

One of my favorite winter dessert or snack food is a warm Japanese sweet bean soup called Zensai.  Since I had some leftover mochi from New Years, I decided to make Zensai and top it with some toasted mochi.   Zensai is a perfect cold weather soup that is made with Azuki beans, water, and sugar.   When you go to a Anmitsuya (a Japanese style dessert shop), Zensai is usually served with grilled mochi on top, and pickles on the side.  Kinozen in Kagurazaka, Tokyo makes a killer Zensai. I visit Kinozen at least once or twice during my stay in Tokyo to get my Zenzai fix and some.  Kinozen serves Zensai with moch; they also serve it with sweetened chestnuts, Kuri zensai, and Millet gruel, Awa zensai.  Awa like mochi is also gooey in texture. The Japanese find this texture very comforting.   

 

Mochi- it has long shelf life if you keep it in the package. 
Grilled they soften and pop up like popcorn.  It's great with
soysauce,  and in soups like Zensai.

Simmer the beans  gently


ZENSAI 

Makes 8 servings

Ingredients:

300 grams azuki beans  

300 grams white granulated sugar  or more

1 Tbs soy sauce  

4 pieces of Mochi, cut in half

 

Rinse the beans in cold water several times. Soak overnight in plenty of cold water to soften.  If the beans are very fresh, no soaking is necessary.


Discard soaking water, rinse and cover beans with fresh cold water.  In a heavy saucepan, bring the beans and water to a boil.  Drain.  Start again with fresh water and bring to a boil and then turn heat to a gentle simmer until the beans are cooked throughly, being careful not to overcook or burn them. The beans should be submerged in the cooking liquid and never exposed. It will take about 90 minutes to two hours to cook the beans. Test one bean and squash it with your finger.  If it squashes easily, it is ready.

 

When the beans are cooked, pour off the excess cooking water leaving just enough to cover the beans. Add 1/2 the white sugar and the soy sauce. Bring to the boil and then turn down the heat to a simmer for about 15 minutes.  Add the remaining sugar and cook for another 15 minutes. Taste and make adjustments.  If more sugar is needed it can be added at this point.  Simmer for a few more minutes and turn heat off.  The azuki beans are ready to be served but it's best if you let them rest in the saucepan overnight. 

 

When ready to serve, cut the mochi pieces in half and grill under a broiler or a toaster oven until they pop. Heat the zenzai until very hot. Place a piece of grilled mochi in individual serving bowls. Ladle the hot zenzai on top. Serve immediately.

 

This recipe makes about 8-12  servings.   


Note: If the soup is too thick, you can dilute it with a  little water.  If it is too thin, you can

cook it and thicken the soup. This is a matter of preference.  It should have the consistency of a thick soup.

 


Two Japanese Pastas - Wafu Style

Posted at 02:47 AM on January 24, 2010 Comments comments (0)



Natto pasta with scallions


When it comes to fusion cusine, Japanese often do things that I find quite daring mixing native ingredients with foreign imports.  Take pasta, for example. The most popular Wafu, Japanese style pastas are Tarako, salted cod roe and Natto, fermented soybeans. Both ingredients have strong flavors.  Tarako is salty, some are spiced with chili, in which case they are called Mentaiko.  Natto is smelly like cheese and slimy like okra. It is an acquired taste.  Fusing Tarako with Pasta is understandable because Tararko is similar to Bottarga, the dried and cured roe, which is used in Italian pasta.  But there is nothing I can think of that comes close to Natto in Italy. The Japanese figured, if Natto works on top of rice, it can also work on top of pasta, and it does, more or less. 



Pasta Carbonara with Bacon, Mentaiko (salted cod roe) and Chives


When my son Sakae and his girlfriend Bina were in Tokyo during the winter holidays, I took them to an inexpensive neighborhood pasta place in Shibuya that's been here since the early fifities called Kabe no Ana, Hole in the Wall.


We ordered the two quintessential Wafu style pastas. The Natto spaghetti came with a generous mound of whipped natto (fermented soybeans) seasoned with raw egg, soysauce and mustard and served over buttered spaghetti. It was slimy as Natto  should be. People either love Natto or hate it. My son loves natto but he was not crazy about this dish. He said he prefers Natto over rice and not pasta.  I feel the same but many Japanese eat Natto this way and love it.


Bina ordered the Mentaiko pasta, carbonara style.  It was your basic egg pasta with bacon which was coated with spicy Tarako, salted cod roe. She ordered the large plate. Compared to the Natto spaghetti, this one was a winner. I orderedTarako, salted cod roe, and with Squid and Shiso.   Bina's dish tasted better. We all ended up taking a bite or two of her pasta. 


Both Natto and Tarako pasta can be easily made at home. WIth natto, you just take it out of the container, mix it with whipped raw egg, a teaspoon or two of soy sauce and mustard and pour it over hot buttered spaghetti.  Not much to it really.  Sesame oil works instead of butter, too. WIth the Mentaiko pasta, you take the cod eggs out of the egg sac with a spoon, or slice it in half, and mix the loose roe into the hot pasta. Toppings such as chopped shiso, scallions, nori seaweed, roasted sesema seeds, daikon sprouts work for both pasta dishes.

 


Stir fried Hijiki Seaweed with Tofu and Vegetables

Posted at 07:23 AM on January 16, 2010 Comments comments (0)



When I am in Japan, I find myself eating some type of seaweed everyday. One in particular that i love is hjiki, a porous grassy seaweed that grows wild on the rocky coastlines of Japan. Hijiki has great texture and flavor. It is sold in the US in dried form. Hydrated, hijiki expands to about ten times its original size, so a little amount goes a long way.  I use the long Hijiki seaweed, called Naga-hijiki

The easiest and tastiest way to prepare hijiki is to simply stir fry it with other vegetables. The most popular combination is hijiki with sliced tofu pouches, age, carrots, and green beans.  The way I do it is, I look in the fridge and see what vegetables I want to use up. You can come up with your own combination. Peas, sliced burdock, peppers and celery also work well. I season this dish with dashi or chicken stock, soy sauce, mirin, sake and sugar. You can spice it up fresh ginger. For a more savory flavor, you can add about a cup of thinly sliced pieces of meat or seafood such as shrimp or clams to this recipe. If you want to make this dish more like salad, add crispy greens like mizuna, lettuce or sprouts (daikon radish sprouts are good.), just before serving. The  other nice way to serve this dish is to mix it into steamed rice and turn it into hijiki rice. I do this quite often.

One thing to remember about hijiki is to make sure you soak it in water for at least an hour, drain, and rinse it several more times to remove any impurities. Serve this dish in small appetizer portions.  It's a great source of calcium, iron and fiber.


Naga-hijiki - Long hijiki

RECIPE: STIR FRIED HIJIKI, TOFU and VEGETABLES
Serves 4

1 cup dried hijiki, hydrated

3 -4  dried shiitake mushrooms, hydrated

1 large or 2 small pieces Age (deep fried tofu pouches) optional

2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into matchsticks, 1/8 thick

1 tsp peeled and thinly sliced ginger

2 tbls roasted sesame oil or vegetable oil

1 cup dashi, dried shitake mushrooms stock or chicken stock of your choice

2 tbs mirin

1 tbs sake

1 tsp sugar or honey (optional)

1/4 cup soy sauce, or to taste

Salt if needed

 

Garnish: 1 tsp roasted sesame seeds (optional)



Add the hijiki last.

Soak hijiki in cold water to cover for at least one hour. Drain.  Rinse a couple more times to remove impurities.


Hydrate shitakes in cold water to cover, about 20 minutes.  Slice shitakes into 1/8 inch pieces. Reserve soaking liquid for the stock if you like.


Put oil in a frying pan over medium-high heat. Stir fry the carrots, age, mushrooms and ginger first for 2-3 mintues. 


Add the hydrated and drained hijiki.  Stir a couple times; add the stock or shiitake soaking liquid, mirin, sake, sugar and soy sauce. Stir, turn heat to simmer, and cook, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes until most of the liquid is evaporated. Mixture should not be soupy or dry. Taste, and make adjustments with soy sauce, sugar and salt, if needed.


Serve as a salad or appetizer, about 1/3 cup servings per person.  Garnish with roasted sesame seeds.


Nikujaga - Japanese style stew

Posted at 09:36 PM on January 13, 2010 Comments comments (0)


Nikujaga

We had our first snow fall of the year in Tokyo earlier in the week. But it quickly turned to rain. Today, it's back to being sunny again.  I still feel cold though, especially at my parents' house, which does not have central heating. I walk around with a wool scarf around my neck. But what works best to combat the cold is to cook and eat something that has a warming effect on the body. I have been alternating between one pot nabe dishes and Japanese style stews -nimono.

When it comes to nimono, one that is particularly popular with my family is a meat and potato based stew called Nikujaga, which literally means Meat and Potatoes. Nikujaga is cooked in a soy-mirin-sake broth. I use thinly sliced sukiyaki-style cut beef or pork; this dish is like a cousin of sukiyaki, What sets Nikujaga apart from Sukiyaki is the inclusion of potatoes.  I also make other versions of Nikujaga by adding carrots, peas and green beans. Basically, what works in stews will most likely work for Nikujaga. What I like about this dish is that unlike western stewd, Nikujaga has no added flour. So it's hearty but light.

Sukiyaki-style cut - potk shoulder

Cut the potatoes in uniform pieces and bevel the edges so they don't fall apart during cooking.  

Shirataki or Ito konnyaku
These zero calorie yam noodles come in a variety. There are 
dark and light type, some with more dietary fibers than others. Flavor   is bland by itself but takes on the flavors of other ingredients when
cooked together. Boil or blanch in hot water to remove the odor. These noodles add volume and dietary fiber to the dish.  It's a great diet food without feeling like you are on a diet.

Shirataki noodles out of the package.  


RECIPE: NIKUJAGA
Serves 4

4 medium size potatoes, peeled  
1 onion, peeled  
3/4 lbs sukiyaki-style cut beef or pork shoulder
1 shirataki noodles, blanched and cut in half
3 tbls vegetable oil
3 cups of water, enough to cover the meat and potatoes

Seasonings:
3 tbls sake
3 tbls mirin
5-6 tbls of soysauce  
1 tbls sugar 

Slice the meat in 2 inch pieces.  Slice the onion lengthwise in half and then cut each half crosswise into 1/4 inch pieces.  Cut the potatoes into six pieces. Bevel the edges.

Cook the shirataki noodles in water for 3 minutes.  Drain. Cut the noodles in half. 

Heat the oil in a medium size pan over medium heat, saute the onions until they are transluscent but still firm. Add the meat, potatoes and shirataki and continue stir frying for a couple of minutes.

Add the seasonings sake and mirin, sugar and 4 tbls of soysauce and the water and turn heat to high. There should be enough water to cover the potatoes but not more. When the liquid boils, cover the pan and lower the heat. Simmer the ingredients until  the liquid is reduced to half the original amount.  Add the rest of the soysauce to make adjustments to the flavor. My Nikujaga is not very sweet.  If you like it sweeter, make adjustments with sugar or mirin.  Cook until the potatoes are done.  

Serve Nikujaga while hot.  Let everyone help themselves to the dish.  Steamed rice and pickles go well.

Nikujaga using other vegetables:

Alternate ingredients for Nikujaga:
meat, carrots, potatoes, green pepper
and shirataki noodles.

L'atelier du Gout - a French Pastry Chef in Tokyo

Posted at 08:56 PM on January 09, 2010 Comments comments (0)
Fuyuko's Gateau du Voyage, fruit cakes

L'atlier du gout is very busy today.  A new customer called to place a large order of Gateau du Voyage, fruit cakes. L'Atlier du Gout  is my sister Fuyuko Kondo's French pastry shop and pastry school. It is located on the ground floor of my parents house in Shibuya. When she is baking, the whole house smells of butter burning. That makes coming home to Tokyo, a unique kind of a French experience.


Fuyuko's day starts at six in the morning.  She changes into her neatly pressed, spotless white uniform.  When I come downstairs with my morning coffee, Fuyuko is talking on the phone to the new customer who placed the big order of fruitcakes. Fuyuko assures her that the cakes will arrive in Osaka before noon tomorrow. The cakes still need one final touch up - dried pineapples rings, pistachios, goji berries and orange peel go on top. Fuyuko slices an end piece and asks me for an opinion. For these fruitcakes, she used a new butter from Hokkaido. I am always tasting her creations. I can never refuse her offer.

Fuyuko did her culinary training with Wittamer in Brussells and Ecole Le Notre in Paris in the eighties. Back then, there were only a handful of Japanese studying european pastries abroad. During Fuyuko's apprenticeship, I visited her in Paris a couple of times. I remember her tiny one-room apartment crowded with pastry equipment and  pulled sugar flowers. She was practicing even at home. These glossy sugar flowers had a way of brightening her modest room. That year, Fuyuko won a prize in the pulled sugar contest in Paris.  

Today, French pastry chefs like my sister have multiplied in numbers.  So have the number of pastry shops in Japan. You can find some of the finest French pastries. I always feel at home when I eat Fuyuko's fruitcake in Tokyo. On this visit, I am going to take some lessons in French pastries. Being able to do this in Tokyo is a unique kind of French experience.

Fuyuko decoratees the cakes.

Gauteau du Voyage


You can order Fuyuko Kondo's cake by visiting the website: http://www.la-chouette.jp
She offers pastry classes and sells pastries on-line.  She can ship anywhere in Japan.
The website is in Japanese but you can e mail Fuyuko in French or English. 

11-17 Nampeidai-cho
Shibuya-ku, Tokyo 150-0036
Tel 03-3461-6551




Nanakusa-gayu - Rice Porridge with Seven Herbs

Posted at 08:03 AM on January 07, 2010 Comments comments (0)
Nanakusa Gayu


Seven herbs - nanakusa 

I don't think I have ever eaten as many good luck foods as I did this year. On January 7th, there was yet another occasion.  The Japanese celebrate the Festival of Seven Herbs, Nanakusa no Sekku. This is a new years custom of eating a rice porridge with seven-medicinal herbs to bring good health and longevity. 

The chosen herbs go by their ancient names and used mostly for this occasion, so it's hard to remember all of them by heart. Even my father could only name three but when the festive day arrives, you find out.

Seri, Japanese parsely
Nazuna - Shephard's purse
Gogyo - Jersey Cudweed
Hokobera - Common chickweed
Hotokenoza - Nipplewort
Suzuna - turnip
Suzushiro - daikon radish

The seven herbs sold in packages.

The recipe for making the porridge is quite easy.  You can start with day-old rice or fresh cooked rice.  Put the rice in a medium size saucepan and add four to five times the amount of water.  Simmer the rice for forty minutes until it becomes like a soft oatmeal in its consistency. The porridge is seasoned with salt and soysauce. The seven herbs are added, just before serving.  

My eight year old nephew took one look at the porridge I made and said it reminded him of the emergency food that he got at his school's earthquake drill.  He was referring to the ready made porridge that came in the earthquake kit.  Porridge is not something he eats that often at home.  But when he tasted mine, he liked it a lot, and even asked for seconds.  

After a couple of weeks of heavy holiday eating, this simple vegetarian rice porridge is easy to digest and very refreshing.

If you do not have these Japanese herbs, come up with your own lucky seven.  Japanese also make do with what they can find locally.  Think of a combination such as dill, mint, coriander, basil, parsely, chervil, baby spinach, mizuna, kale and baby radish, carrots and turnips. The idea is to choose young green sprouts and roots that bring vibrancy to your life. You can serve this dish for breakfast, lunch or dinner.  I served this as an appetizer before dinner on January 7. It was a hit.  I can eat this porridge all year around.

RECIPE: NANAKUSA GAYU- Rice porridge with Seven Herbs 
Serves 6

1 package of Nanakusa or a handful of herbs of your choice, including baby radishes and turnips
2 cups cooked white short or medium grain rice
8 -10 cups of water 
salt and soysauce to taste, about a 1/2 teaspoon of each.

Wash the herbs and roots. Cut the root ends. Blanch them in hot water for a minute.  Drain.

In a medium saucepan, bring the rice and water to a boil. Then turn heat to a simmer and cook for about 40 minutes, until the consistency of the rice becomes thick and porridgy like a soft oatmeal.  Some people like their porridge, Okayu, thick; some like it thinner.  This is a matter of preference. Be careful not to burn the rice. You can add more water if it gets too thick.

Add the nanakusa and serve immediately with salt and soysauce for those who like a stronger flavor.

Nanakusa Gayu - Rice Porridge with seven herbs

Note: Don't overcook the herbs or they will loose their vibrant green color.  

Menu suggestions: This Okayu (generic word for rice porridge) is traditionally served as a hearty Breakfast dish with pickles.  But you can also serve it anytime of the day.  Some consider Okayu as Japanese comfort food.

Japanese Produce - Chiba

Posted at 07:49 PM on January 06, 2010 Comments comments (0)

Japanese cabbage 

Every time I go grocery shopping in the Depa-chika (the basement of a department store where they sell food) in Tokyo,  I am astounded by how expensive the produce is, especially since I am used to prices in California.  A single stalk of celery can cost $3, a stalk of broccoli $8, a mango grown in Japan can be as high as $100, and that is not for a tree but for a single fruit!  A Brazilian friend who saw what can cost for such fruit cried, "But that's what we feed the pigs!."  People in Tokyo can find the finest fruit and vegetables of every kind but they can come with a hefty price tag. You have to be a smart shopper to live in this city.  My cousin takes regular trips outside of Tokyo to buy produce directly from the farmers. You can also have farm fresh products shipped to you but that's not cheap.  

Satuma-imo and Sato-imo potatoes

A visit to the family grave gave us a chance to leave Tokyo and be in the countryside. With my son, Sakae, we went to Chiba, which is about an hour train ride from Tokyo. The famiy grave is in the middle of a pear farm near Matsudo in Chiba. This prefecture is the leading producer of vegetables in Japan. 

Red daikon radish

In the old days, the farm women from Chiba, Chiba no Obasan, would come out from Chiba to Tokyo to sell vegetables and other farm products.  They carried big handwoven baskets of produce on their backs.  I loved the Obasan that regularly came to our house in Kamakura.  What she produced out of the basket was amazing -  fresh farm eggs wrapped in newspaper, daikon radish, spinach, carrots, potatoes, fermented soybeans,natto, bean cakes, even rice. She was like a magician. You don't see these traveling farm women anymore but the farms are still around, though much less than when I was a girl.  

 
Japanese cucumbers
I left Shibuya at nine in the morning. It was past rush hour traffic but the trains were still packed with shoppers. As the train moved away from central Tokyo, we could sit and look at the view outside the window. We began to see less highrises, more single unit homes and patches of farm land.

  Tokyo Negi

We arrived in Chiba earlier than expected so we decided to explore the nearby market in Matsudo. As expected, the quality of the local produce was incredible. There were blushing pink fat daikon radishes and gigantic turnips with dirt clinging to their roots. They were probably just picked a few hours ago. I could smell the earth.  Compared to Tokyo, everything was reasonably priced.  Sakae saw many unfamiliar vegetables, including slimy mushrooms like nameko.  If we didn't have any family commitments, I would have bought the beautiful cabbage, burdock, negi, and more.  Oh well, it will have to wait till next time. At least, it was nice to get out of the city and breathe some fresh country air.  I now understand why my cousin makes the weekly trips to Chiba to buy produce.

Onions

Gobo - Budock

Hoshigaki - Dried Persimmons

Posted at 08:22 PM on January 03, 2010 Comments comments (0)
Gozen Shirogaki 


Every new year, a beautiful wooden box containing Gozen Hoshigaki -  dried persimmons arrive from Tsuchiya - the two hundred year old artisanal pastry shop in Ogaki, Gifu.  It is a New Year's gift, Onenga, from Keiko Tsuchiya, the owner of the shop whom my family has known for more than forty years. Keiko was my Japanese tutor when I was living in Mexico city as a girl. When her family moved back to Japan, she married Tsuchiya, and has lived in Ogaki ever since.  I have not seen her since my Mexico days but I spoke to her on the phone this year.  She was full of nostalgia. She said my family is her connection to Mexico. My connection to both Japan and Mexico is this hoshigaki. 


The persimmons used to make Gozen Shirogaki are the cream of the crop. The chosen fruit is carefully peeled, strung and hung on bamboo poles to dry for forty days. My father likes to take trips to Ogaki during the fall when hundreds of these bright orange persimmons are hanging out in the open air to dry.  It inspires him to write haiku.

They say the cost and labor of making one Gozen Shirogaki compares to producing a bushel of rice. The persimmon makers sleep in the storage room to attend to the persimmons during the production season. Each persimmon is massaged by hand with a special  brush - a process that creates a fine crystalized white coating on the fruit.  These hoshigaki have tender skin with a very moist inner meat. They taste heavenly.  I feel lucky if I can eat one in the new year. I am off to a good start. 


Hoshi-gaki goes very well with tea. The tea master, Senno Rikyu, wrote about the hoshi-gaki of this region in his chronicles. 

To obtain Gozen Shirogaki, you must special order them from Tsuchiya in the fall.  

39 Tawaracho
Ogaki-shi
Tel 0584-78-2111



A Visit to Kaneiji Temple - old Tokyo

Posted at 11:43 PM on January 02, 2010 Comments comments (0)


                 My 86 year old father waiting for the incense and the flowers.

The old Okame sculpture greets us.

The occasional haikus that I post on my blog are mostly written by my 86 year old father, Toshio Kondo.  He asked me if I would go to Kaneiji temple to visit our ancestor's grave this morning. The temple is in Yanaka, the old section of downtown Tokyo.  My father drove. He knows all the back streets and shortcuts.  Considering his age, I wondered when he was going to stop driving. He said he planned to drive until his license expired. That's in two years!   

Whenever I come to Yanaka, I feel my old roots. The area is also known for artisanal shops and cherry trees. The buds are still tight but the old trees are elegant and beautiful even during their dormant period. Our routine visit to the family grave site includes stopping and saying hello to the lady who manages the gravesite.  My father always calls her in advance of the visit.  

When we arrived to her house, the lady who manages the gravesite served us tea at the entrance of her house. We talked about the weather, how good it has been in Tokyo.  She prepared a bucket of water, some incense and flowers to take to the grave.  As we got up to go to the family gravesite, I noticed my father was walking slower than he did last year.  He said he was pacing himself so as not to tire himself.  I slowed down, myself, too.  I am always in a hurry to go somewhere. To do just the opposite is a good exercise.

The family head stones stood tall. They felt ancient but solid.  My father traced the engraved names on the headstone with his old hands and recounted stories of my grandparents. On this occasion, I noticed the construction of three new high rise buildings since I was Iast here. I found their presence rather intrusive. There was also construction to remove some of the old graves to make room for the new. My father said we were lucky we still have our family grave. I felt fortunate to have a father who can still drive, show me around when I am Tokyo and remind me of the things that matter.

Hatsumode - New Year's Prayer Visit to Hie Shrine

Posted at 05:05 PM on January 02, 2010 Comments comments (0)


On the second day of the new year, we went to the Hiei shrine in Akasaka to do hatsumode - a Japanese tradiiton to visit a shrine or temple to make the first prayer of the year. The shrine was packed with hundreds of worshipers.  We chose the Hiei shrine because we knew it would be much less crowded than the Meiji shrine, which receives more than three million worshipers during the New Years holiday.  We still had to get into a queue and wait forty five minutes for our turn.  There were many colorful snack stands that sold beer, sake, tako-yaki, okonomiyaki - Japanese style pancakes filled with cabbage, meat and octopus. We bought some tea to keep ourselves warm.  After the worship,  my nine year old nephew Hayato wanted to get an o-mikuji, a written oracle that predicts your luck. We each bought one.  My sister Fuyuko got "Kichi" which means good luck. Hayato got "Chukichi" which is one notch luckier than good luck.  I pulled a "Daikichi" which is the highest luck you can get with an omikuji.  I don't really count on charms and amulets but I didn't mind improving my odds of making this year a good luck year. The omikuji had a lot written on it, starting with an old poem which insinuated how things will go for me. Old and young branches will both give plenty of blooms, it said, but it also warned what can go wrong if I didn't act with modesty.  I folded the oracle and put it in my wallet.

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