nakji

Bibimbap is a Korean gateway food. Most people who've never tried Korean food before enjoy bibimbap - when I lived in Korea, it was almost always given to newly arrived teachers! You can control the spiciness level, which I think is why it stands out among Korean dishes as foreigner-friendly. At least in the minds of Koreans, that is. There's a bibimbap topic, and a cookoff, as well. As for why everybody ordered it - maybe it was the most interesting thing on the menu that day? Is the menu the same every day?

Actually, I think that's in the book I have, I remember reading it. Now I'll just have to start trying to figure out how to make Japanese cuts of meat match up. I'm sure I'll figure it out, I'm pretty good at compromise. Thanks I've been cooking my way through a couple of Japanese cookbooks, and they have a lot to say on how things are supposed to look. There's almost always a note in the recipe on appropriate plating and garnish for dishes. So when the pasta was finishing in the pan, and I saw how gray it looked, I looked over at the skins (which I'd been snacking on) and a little gong went off in my head. They were tasty, too, so: bonus.

I am up to my neck in aubergine. I can't use the stuff fast enough. Tomatoes have come and gone, but grapes are all over the place, and persimmons are creeping in. I first moved to Asia when grapes and persimmons were in season, so whenever I smell them, grapes especially, it takes me right back to those first scary days. I also have my first Awate prefecture apple on the table, from a student. It will be breakfast tomorrow with peanut butter.

When I read the introduction of the book, I was struck by this as well. What I like about it is that it takes an "assume the reader knows nothing about real Italian cooking" approach, and goes from there. And truth be told, any of the really specific ingredients she does call for can most likely be sourced in Tokyo, but I like to use what's readily available and cheap. The time has passed for me to do tomato sauce; but I just tagged the mushroom recipe with a red: fall recipe tab. Noted! Shhh! Don't tell anyone in the Kitchen Consumer forum - but I only have one knife! I picked the book up off the shelf in the first place because I read a profile on her and her husband in the NYT the other week. She sounds crazy scary and cool. The book is full of stern warnings. In the aubergine recipe, she warns not to refrigerate the cooked aubergine, but I totally did. Please don't tell. I hope I have half the success you did! I'm glad to rekindle a great memory. Please, everyone, cook along if you like - the more the merrier, yes? I'm curious if anyone has tried her pasta roses with ham and fontina - do they taste as delicious as they sound?

As I mentioned over here, I have a very small kitchen with virtually no storage space. I have no oven; no dutch oven; no toaster oven; nor any immediate plans to get one. Whenever I look at an English language cookbook, I usually end up discarding it in frustration, since most of the recipes contained at some point require an oven. What can you do? It's a cultural thing. It does, however, mean I rarely acquire new cookbooks. So when I was browsing through a used bookstore in Tokyo the other day, and I came across an old copy of 'Marcella's Italian Kitchen", I picked it up only out of random curiosity. As I flipped through it, I casually skimmed the text for the telltale signs of oven temperature directions, and cooking times listed in hours. Imagine my surprise when there were virtually none. My heart started beating faster, and I thought, "Well, I'm sure all the recipes call for obscure Italian ingredients that I have no prayer of finding around here." I scanned the pages, this time looking for white truffles, strange fish, specific kinds of rock salt....nothing. Instead, it was full of recipes calling for fresh, seasonal vegetables,packaged pasta, and fresh fish... I clutched the book tightly and thought - "We have fresh fish in Japan. We have vegetables!" Then I ran up to the counter and bought it, before my husband could see me. (We have no bookshelves at home, either. Zen minimalism, you know.) When I go it home, I was thrilled to find that not only were the majority of the recipes things I could cook, they were things I would cook. So I went through and tabbed the book with coloured tabs, coded to the seasons here in Japan (green for summer recipes - tomatoes, aubergines; red for fall - mushrooms, pumpkin) and resolved to cook one dish from it each week until I got bored - or my husband begged for an end. Whichever came first. I invite you to cook along with me, if you have one of her books, and would like to increase your use of them. I have no idea if this book is her best or worst book, since I bought it used, there was no basis for comparison. There's a topic on Marcella Hazan herself, which you can use if you'd like to check out what people have to say about her books. Tuesday is as good a day as any, so I chose that for menu planning purposes - we still have vegetables leftover from the weekend, but won't need any leftovers from dinner the next day for our bento boxes, since it's my day off. This week, however, I was called away on Tuesday night to sample some mojitos at a new rum bar that opened in our neighborhood. (These things happen) So this recipe got made on Wednesday instead. The end of summer is aubergine season in Japan, and our local vegetable stand is literally piled high with bags of them for 100 yen every day. It's my favourite vegetable, so I always like to bring a bag of them home. I'm getting a bit sick of cooking them with dashi and ginger, though, so the recipe for baked aubergine with garlic and parsley on page 264 looked just the thing. I do have a small fish grill, which will grill small things, so my aubergines went in there for the baking. I didn't have any Italian parsley, so I used mitsuba (shh! don't tell!), but they came out great. She called for a half cup of olive oil, which made me gasp, but I used it all anyway. I can see I'm going to have to start buying bigger bottles. When they were done, I whizzed them up in my blender, and tossed them with hot linguine, as she calls for in the note at the bottom of the recipe (well, actually she calls for spaghettini - but I had linguine - you get the idea). I reserved the peels before I blended the insides, and chopped them for a garnish. I know from bitter experience that most recipes that feature aubergine heavily turn an unappetizing gray, and I wanted some colour punch to make it look nice. I julienned them, and piled them on top of the pasta. It look alright, but it tasted divine. And, aside from the aubergine roasting, which was unattended, the whole thing took ten minutes to put together. I think I'm in love. Now if I can only find a substitute for veal. Do you think kurobuta pork would do?

I've been dealing with less-than-ideal kitchens for the past couple of years. In Vietnam, my kitchen didn't even have hot running water (and on some days, it didn't have any running water. ) My kitchen in Japan is quite small, since I live in an apartment that's only meant for short-term residents who don't - well- own stuff. I had it worse last fall when I basically cooked in a closet, but this kitchen isn't much better. I have a two-ring gas burner, but I recently bought a table-top burner to increase my cooking capacity. The most important coping strategy I've learnt is organization and planning. Here's my fridge: It comes up to my waist. It's meant for single young men who live off of combini food and tall-tin Asahi. I could get by fine with it if there were shops nearby for daily shopping, but there aren't. I have to pick things up as I go about my day at various stations, or get random vegetables from my neighborhood vegetable stand. So, every Sunday, I sit down with a notebook and make a plan for the week, based on where I'll be on which day, what nights we might be planning to eat out, and what vegetables are in season and likely to be cheap and available. I've commenced colour-tabbing my cook books by season, so I can quickly flip through looking for recipes that are appropriate to what comes home. When things come home and go into the fridge, I put a reminder note up on the "info centre" so I can remember what's in there - since space is precious, I don't have room for moldering leftovers. That's also where requests and shopping lists go, or recipes/ideas I have for future meals. Next to the fridge, we have separated bins for all of our non-standard garbage - it all has to be washed, so I don't mind the bins being open. "Burnable" garbage gets its own lidded bin located next to the chopping space next to the work station, so scraps can be flicked in directly with the knife. Luckily, the floor space of the kitchen was reasonable, so we were able to bring home a work station from Ikea. All prep happens here, since the "counter" - the one square foot of space next to the sink, that is to say, is too low even for a short person like me to use comfortably. The shelves below the main prep area are storage for all of my bento equipment. When I plan the week's meals, I also plan how they'll be converted into lunch each following day. Then leftovers get packed into the bentos if possible, or into plastic containers if not, and then into the fridge. Then when I get up the next morning, bentos are packed right away, without me having to move around too much. I have implemented a "Just In Time" inventory system in my kitchen We're not allowed to wall mount anything, so we haven't been able to put up storage shelves. That's been ok, since I only really own four pots, and right now they all fit happily under the sink - so non-acquisition of stuff is a big help for us. Right now I'm trying to justify buying a donabe, but storage space is an issue for that - if it doesn't do more than one duty, it's hard to find a place for it in the kitchen. Utensils all go on s hooks that have been hung on the drying rack. The drying rack hangs over the sink, and came with the apartment. Without it, working would be a lot more difficult. All in all, this is the best kitchen I've ever had, mainly because I've been able to set up the work station to my specs. The small size to some extent works in its favour, since I don't have to move around too much to accomplish what I need doing.

No no, not just you. I thought so, too. *sigh* I see Canada is represented by hockey sticks and snow shoes. Now if they were offering poutine, that would be Canadian.

Well, being Scottish, my grandmother no doubt felt it was an unnecessary luxury. Not sure if she precooked the onions or not, though.

390 YEN!!!!!!!!! Were these child portions? I have to get out of the city.

Last night I made a big pot of tonjiru, since it turned rainy and cool-ish where I am. I started using the recipe from Washoku, but since I hardly had any of the ingredients she called for, I used my own mix instead. Negi; carrot; sweet potato, and mushrooms- although I'm not sure of the variety name. They're medium-sized, and all grow together as a bunch, with gray tops. They're not enoki, maitaki, eringii or shiitake. I also added some garlic (!) since: a) My husband brought a kilo home last weekend and I have to start using it up; and b) I love the taste of garlic and miso together. Although the recipe in Washoku called for equal parts white and red miso, I only had red on hand. I figured the sweet potato would add enough sweetness anyway. I garnished with some mitsuba - my first time buying it. I usually patiently take it out of my cart every week, when my husband puts it in hopefully, thinking it's cilantro. This week, I let it stay, and put it into the soup. I can't say I really enjoyed it, as it reminded me of celery leaves, and I hate celery. We had a couple of bowls each, along with rice and some homemade pickles (Korean radish and Canadian sweet red onion). The whole thing was a really satisfying meal, and better yet, there's some leftover for lunch today.

Oh, my goodness, I hadn't thought about those in years. My dear "Nanny in England" made those the few times I met her. She was actually Scots, from Dundee, but my Granddad was from Yorkshire, perhaps he introduced her to them? Oh, they're marvellous. I think she used to make them in pie form, too. Yum yum yum. And I don't have an oven, so I could recreate them. The pastry was made with lard, I think, and absolutely no paprika. Butter and onions, and strong cheddar, yes. She was an excellent cook. I wish I could get my hands on her recipes, but they're lost, along with her. She made a mean cock-a-leekie soup, too.

There were two Barleywines that I saw, but I didn't get near all the booths, so there might have been more. The one we tried was lovely, but I'm not sure how much of it I could drink at a sitting. They were quite sweet to my taste. Just the dark, actually. Which is a shame, because I love the regular, as well. Happy memories.

I'll admit their cookies look dry, and the macarons look a little pallid, but their cake selection always looks delicious - maybe because I always see it at lunchtime? I can see serious investigative work here is needed. I volunteer for this difficult task! Well Hiroyuki, I'm always good for a laugh, if nothing else. I'm going to have to break down and buy a computer in Japan, so I can start typing in the kana.

Maybe Ou bai nigori shu from Nara It's sake based. From here I can't find information about the brewery, so maybe it's only available at izakaya. When I googled "nigori ume shu" (にごり梅酒), I got some hits such as http://ma2ya.shop-pro.jp/?pid=1862052 It's imo jochu based. ← Thanks, Hiroyuki. The one above looks like the right colour, from looking at the bottle. It was so delicious, and I can't help but think it would be amazing in baking - drizzled on ice cream, or with crepes. I'll have a look around my local liquor shops, we have some really good ones in Ofuna. Can you tell me how to say the kanji on this bottle? I can't read them.

Last night, I had a drink which I think was called "ume nigori-shu". I'm not sure exactly what it was, but it was incredibly delicious - kind of rich and jammy, but not too sweet. I thought it made the perfect nightcap, but I have no idea what the bottle looked like, so I could buy some at a liquor shop. Can anyone help me out?

We were there on the second day, in the afternoon, and I only saw one or two "sold out" signs amongst all the booths. Perhaps attendance was lower in Yokohama - or maybe they brought more this time round! Either way, it was a great opportunity to try some beers that I normally wouldn't. I'll admit, a bottle of Gotemba Weizen found its way into my shopping cart today at the supermarket.

I pass through Yokohama station every Thursday, and the Antenor kiosk there haunts me. I finally got an excuse to buy something there this week, when one of my co-workers booked Shinkansen tickets for me. (W00t - Takayama getaway, here I come!) She loves Mont Blanc cakes, and Antenor was featuring a sweet potato version, so we had an impromptu Mont Blanc picnic in the office on Friday. I thought it was absolutely gorgeous, with the textures of the marron and sweet potato melding perfectly. The mound of sweet potato puree on top was a breathtaking gold colour. Is Antenor a Japanese chain, or is it French? My google turned up only references to Greek mythology.

Oh, my goodness. The carrots are round. Is that how they serve them in Paris? I'd kill for a meal like that right about now - meat and three and dessert. Can I order takeout from Japan?

I had a bag full of tomatoes that I was contemplating making tomato jam with the other week, but then I had the same thought - what would I do with it? So I ended up making tomato soup with them. It sounds like it would be nice with an omelette; or on the side of a steak frites. Served on toasted baguette with fried onions and melted cheese as a sandwich? Layered on a tuna melt? Slathered on burgers? Or, if it's really sweet, why not with vanilla ice cream? Tomatoes are a fruit, after all.

(I realized I lied in my first post: I actually own four cookbooks, two of which I bought so I could learn to feed myself in Japan. I still occasionally refer to them, but there aren't any flat surfaces in my kitchen to put them on, so I find them incredibly inconvenient for actual cooking.) So I went back to the New York Times and read this offering from Alex Witchel, about a recipe for burritos from one of her stepson's friends. Definitely not "serious". And not particularly funny, either. But is the New York Times trying to be serious with its Dining section, and missing the mark, or are they just trying to fill pages with articles like these? eta clarification

You know that famous pillow? The one that says, "If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit next to me?" I love that pillow. So when I read your post, I thought, ooooh goody. I love reading the Bruni and Beyond topic, but I never have anything insightful to say about any of it, never having eaten anything anywhere in New York. So I immediately skipped over to the Times website and found something by her; and read one. To be honest, I found her process of creating plum sauce exactly pretty much how I go about cooking. In fact, is an excellent description of almost all my adventures in the kitchen. I live a transient life, so I have a collection of cookbooks that numbers exactly two: "How To Cook Everything" by Mark Bittman, and "Larousse Gastronomique" (abridged). When I get home at ten o'clock and have to put dinner on the table the thought of opening one up and actually referring to a recipe makes my brain hurt. I could check the internets, but my husband is hogging it with Facebook. That being said, I'm not a writer for the New York Times, which pretty much proves your point, I guess, if you're working from the premise that people who read the NYT Dining section are there to learn about cooking food seriously. Which, I think, a lot of the discussion on the Bruni topic boils down to - who are these articles targeted at? edited for link

I was devoted to their chocolate chip muffins in university, but when I was back in Canada this year, I tried one, and it was downright chewy and inedible in a very strange way. I've never been a big fan of their coffee, but I always relied on their baked goods.

If I might add, Ce'nedra, those are also excellent for breakfast, especially with a cup of thick Vietnamese coffee. I like mine dipped in Chin Su tuong ot sauce.

continued The crowd wasn't too big, and lines were moving really quickly, which really helped us make the rounds. In the middle of the hall were blocks of ice for rolling your glass around in between bouts; I'm not sure if this is a standard touch at beer festivals, but it seemed to keep the kids occupied. The other nice thing was the laid-back atmosphere, with a lot of young people in yukatas. A stunning number of witty t-shirts were on display; my favourites being: "Proudly brewed in New Jersey. You gotta problem with that?" and "Friends don't let friends Vote Republican", which made me laugh out loud, to the obvious gratification of the wearer; a man who I assume was a member of the American armed forces. We pressed on through the beers. Ginga Kogen Another favourite, and not just for the pretty blue bottle. Pale Ale - hints of toast and barley. I went back for more. Shonan Ruby - Refreshing and mildly citrusy - gulpable. I put two stars next to it - not as assertively citrus as a lot of the Weizens, which I find can get sickly after a glass or two. Very drinkable over a long stretch, if you need that kind of beer. Shonan brewery also has a bakery that incorporates their beer into the bread, and a restaurant nearby my home in Chigasaki, where they do excellent work with Napoli-style pizzas. Their label features a distinctive rock that can be seen in the bay near Enoshima island. Sankgallen Sweet Vanilla Stout - My husband and I got into an argument here. He got me to taste it without telling me the name, and then asked me, "What's the opposite of chocolate?", and I replied, "Caramel?", which disgusted him completely, as it's apparently obvious to all and sundry that Vanilla is the opposite of chocolate. But it tasted more like caramel to me, so there. Yokohama Brewery Pilsner - Light tasting; like popcorn. Not particularly memorable. Birra Rossa Catania- Possibly made with blood oranges, from what I could tell from the literature. Astringent and citrusy. Beer Lao Obviously not a Japanese beer, but one of the distributors had some bottles of Beer Lao Dark, which we tried for nostalgia's sake. If you're going to be an obscure country, your claim to fame had might as well be best beer in Asia. I'm not sure if that claim holds up to rigorous tasting, but I feel like we should throw Laos a bone here. Taste fatigue had really started to set in at this point, so we took a break to visit the space-age toilets. One thing I love about Japan is that the toilet rolls are always full. Then we had some energy left for a final round. Fujizakura Heights Rauch - What a beer to wake up the taste buds. I can honestly say I've never had anything like this. Mesquite, barbecue, and smoky (as opposed to roasted) flavours dominated. Not a beer I could drink all the time, but interesting nonetheless. Yona Yona - from Nagoya Ale - I also starred this one. I wrote, smooth, drinkable, fruity; which is a bit of a miracle, since my fine motor skills were beginning to go at this point. They also had a Tokyo dark beer, but there's only so much stout one can drink, I think. Gotemba Kogen Our favourite of the day. We'd sampled this beer from this brewery before, when we visited Hakone last fall. They're also available in our supermarket, and we occasionally indulge in their Weizen when we're feeling flush. (It's usually around 500 yen per bottle) Weizen Bock - "The colour of a Belgian", according to my husband - not really sure what he meant by that. I wrote, "citrus notes, some alcohol; buttery vanilla buttercream. Lovelovelove. I went back for another glass, I'll admit it. Schwarz - My husband tried it just so he could say, "Use the Schwarz!" No comments other than that. Kinshachi - Nagoya Pilsner - I wrote, "tastes like beer", which I think is because the sorts of beers I was brought up on are based on this style. But I was also pretty far gone at this point. My notes degenerated from there. Overall, Weizen and stouts were heavily represented at most of the tables, along with a sprinkling of ales and pilsners. I saw one or two porters, and quite a few tables had IPA, which is the style of beer that's quite popular in my home province in Canada. My favourite was Gotemba, but I also liked Yona Yona and Shonan quite a bit as well. I'm not sure if any of these get distributed outside of Japan, but they're worth a taste if you see them.

I went to the Great Japan Beer Festival with my husband today in the Yokohama Osanbashi hall, on the waterfront. This festival provided the opportunity to sample some of the best ji-biiru available in Japan. This event is also held in Tokyo and Osaka, and friends told me the Tokyo event is plagued with long lines and waits. The crowds were manageable today, and the hot steamy weather made the thought of spending all afternoon sampling cold beer even more delightful. Osanbashi Hall is beautifully sculpted out of glass and wood, and sits on the cruise ship pier on the harbourfront. I don't actually go into central Yokohama that often, but I'm always struck by how beautiful and unique the waterfront area is. In the hall were 69 different companies offering at least two beers each; and grouped by region. Tickets were 3,600 yen each, and included a 50 ml glass to be used for sampling - making the event more eco-friendly, I guess. Plus helping with the clean-up. I have no real experience in beer-tasting, although I know what I like. I've been a fan of Hitachino Nest for a while. I especially enjoy their Weizen and White beers. Since we live in Shonan area, we also occasionally have a few bottles of Shonan Beer, which is quite smooth, and especially refreshing on a hot day. Aside from that, we had no experience with other local brews from around Japan. (As for international beers, I like Hoegarden if I'm drinking before noon; Leffe Blonde if the sun's over the yardarm. That's just to let you know where my preferences lie as a baseline. ) Between us, my husband and I tasted a heroic 20 beers. I wrote brief notes on each of them, which in no way correspond to the sort of notes beer experts might generate. I apologize for their amateur nature in advance. Shiroyama from Kagoshima Herb Ale - grassy. Nice, but nothing special. Hideji Smoking Mole - Dry and smooth. Faint roasted taste. Went down very quick. I'm sorry I didn't go back for more of this. Miyoshi Weizen - tasted like bubblegum and bananas. Too sweet for me. Aki (seasonal fall beer) - An ale with hints of molasses. Warm and smooth. Quite enjoyable. Daigen G Weizen - light caramel flavour; a contrast to the Miyoshi - much less sweet. I enjoyed it quite a bit, and went back for more later. It's available at our local supermarket as well. Hitachino Nest Clearly marked as the number one craft beer exported to the U.S. Sweet Stout - I'm normally not a stout fan, but this surprised me. It was lighter than your average stout, with a light roasted taste with a molasses and burnt sugar undertone. I'd drink it again Ginger Ale - Gingery without being spicy. I wanted to like it more than I did. I wrote I thought it would be nice with cheese, but perhaps I was just wishing for a bit of cheese at that point. White - Always my favourite, it's grassy and citrusy. A good morning beer. Coedo Excellent beers here. Weizen - Two stars in my notes. Pine; clean. But not Pine-cleaner. Barley Wine - Heavy and syrupy with an assertive alcohol taste, but not unpleasant. The sort of beer I'd want for breakfast if I were in a sugaring cabin in Quebec. Daikoku I wanted to try their Soba Dark, but they were sold out. I ended up trying their stout, not because I'm much of a stout fan, but because there was no line-up, and they were stuck next to Hitachino Nest, with a vast crowd, and I quite frankly felt a little bad for them. I'm glad I did. Oya Brasserie Stout - Like drinking 80% dark chocolate, a rich roasted taste without being heavy or cloying - like a really excellent cup of French Roast coffee; a good beer to drink in a Jazz club or while writing angry letters to someone who has jilted you. to be continued....