MooMooFoodie

FT: Know your noodles

Source:  http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/647af5dc-18bb-11e2-80af-00144feabdc0.html#ixzz29qoonBtW

October 19, 2012 7:12 pm

Know your noodles

By Tim Hayward

Ramen, Japanese noodle soup, is a fast food that should be made, say its connoisseurs, with all the finesse of haute cuisine

©Greg Funnell

The perfect serving

It’s too early on a Monday morning and I’m standing with steamed-up glasses in a Soho shop window, trying to drop a pinch of shredded spring onions into the right place on a bowl of ramen soup. My fingers feel like fat frankfurters: first I miss the pork, then the pile isn’t high enough. Finally chef Kensuke Yamada, with polite resignation, lifts out my attempt and replaces it with his own, perfectly balanced, mathematically aligned. He breathes a little sigh. These things really matter…

In the UK, there has already been a surge of interest in ramen noodles, which Kensuke tops with pork belly and egg, and garnishes so skilfully. When Alan Yau threw open the doors of Wagamama 20 years ago, we learnt, falteringly at first, the art of queueing, of eating at a communal table, and of slurping our soup. Now a chain of more than 100 restaurants worldwide, Wagamama is a business success but has arguably lost touch with the original ideas of ramen.

A new book, Slurp! A Social and Culinary History of Ramen by Dr Barak Kushner, who teaches modern Japanese history at Cambridge, both contextualises the soup and hints at some of the reasons behind its global spread. Kushner explains how noodles entered Japan from China and how they evolved in Japanese cuisine in a way that reflected the prevailing feelings of Japan towards its neighbour. It was only during the 19th century, with Japanese cuisine in something of a slump, that the first shops appeared selling “Chinese-style” noodles in broth, initially to workers, students and late-night drinkers – much like the original hamburger or even the doner kebab.

After the second world war, despite famine conditions, Japan was slow to receive a supply of American food aid. When it did arrive, it comprised large surpluses of wheat flour. Though the Japanese Ministry of Health encouraged people to eat bread, there was no indigenous tradition of breadmaking. The sole experience of wheat was the noodle, and so began a second surge of popularity.

©Greg Funnell

Cooking noodles

As Japan recovered and began to prosper, the people embraced the noodle with enthusiasm. Until around 1950 they were known as shina (Chinese) soba (buckwheat noodles), and retained a kind of transgressive, foreign glamour which appealed to the young – much as the American burger did to youngsters in austerity Britain – but they were also convenient and functional. Noodles fuelled students through nights of study; drunks reeling home from work could prop up a noodle stand and slurp; but, like convenience foods the world over, they also entered the home kitchen as time-savers.

In 1958, Ando Momofoku, a Taiwanese businessman, discovered a way of treating and packaging the noodles and dried soup flavourings so that they could be reconstituted in hot water. These “Chikin Ramen” (“ramen” might be a corruption of “lamian”, a Chinese term meaning “pulled noodles”) were the ancestors of today’s Pot Noodle.

©Greg Funnell

Basic soup

Today, ramen are everywhere. There are more than 34,000 ramen shops in Japan, serving over 25 per cent of meals taken out of the home. Many Japanese cities have noodle stadiums where competitions can take place.

In one small chain, Ichiran, diners are led to individual booths where they can pass a note to a server hidden behind a curtain, who will pass them their ideal bowl of ramen, which they can then contemplate and consume in reverent silence. Attempts have been made to mass-cater ramen, in restaurants such as Wagamama, but as refinement relies on daily careful preparation of soups, working at this scale tends to produce disappointing results. Good ramen is very good and – quietly turning our eyes from the Pot Noodle – is best made at an artisanal level by a caring and individual cook. It is part of the beauty of ramen that it will never be haute cuisine, but in the correct hands can be no less sublime.

©Greg Funnell

Topping with pork

In London, a new ramen bar, Bone Daddies, from ex-Zuma and Nobu head chef Ross Shonhan, is due to open in Wardour Street, Soho, in November. And at Tonkotsu in nearby Dean Street, Kensuke takes his ramen very seriously. Only two types are served, one with a spicy Tokyo-style soup, and the signature tonkotsu, after which the place is named. Originating in Kyushu, tonkotsu soup is made by boiling pork bones and fat long and hard. The bones yield flavour while the collagen and gelatin allow the fat to emulsify with the flavour-filled liquid in the turbulence of boiling. It has taken them months to perfect the technique, struggling to source the right kind of pork bones and testing batch after batch.

Noodle shops in Japan tend to be small, independent operations that guard their recipes carefully, so experimentation and refinement are the only routes to a good stock. Today the stock base is exactly as it should be – milky in texture, with a light pork taste but without any hint of “pigginess” in the smell.

The noodles themselves are still handmade elsewhere and shipped in to the restaurant, but they’ve got a noodle machine the size of a small car being imported from Japan at the moment and are in negotiations with British mills to develop exactly the right sort of flour. (Kensuke considers this level of control vital.)

©Greg Funnell

Tim Hayward with Kensuke Yamada

The fresh noodles Kensuke is using are boiled a single serving at a time, using a timer, and constantly agitated in a small basket. Using his free hand he ladles into the large “donburi” bowl a precisely measured shot of “base”. The stock itself is not seasoned – it would be impossible to control flavours while reducing it – so the correct quantity of base is judged in a daily tasting and a suite of measuring ladles are used to portion it out.

Assembly is swift. The base shot is topped with two ladles of stock. The noodles, now à point and shaken dry, are rolled into the hot liquid and topped with two slices of cold pork belly, three strands of menma, sesame seeds, a handful of chopped spring onions, some bean shoots and half a soft-boiled egg. Finally Kensuke reaches for a squeeze-bottle containing a black reduction of long-cooked garlic and swirls an artistic trail across the top.

The effect is simultaneously simple and poetic. This is clearly the very speediest of fast food but the simplicity of the presentation and the purity of the ingredients feels much more like something that Michelin gives stars for. Sure, it can be banged out at blistering speed to queues of hungry diners for very little cash, but the care with which the ingredients are set up means that the balance in the bowl is never less than gorgeous.

Tim Hayward is contributing writer, FT Weekend; tim.hayward@ft.com;Twitter@TimHayward

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©Greg Funnell

Kensuke Yamada

A ramen guide

Ramen differ from other wheat noodles, being made with an alkaline water called kansui which gives them their hagotaeor “tooth feel”. This firm texture is something like the Italian al dente but with a kind of rubbery resistance. Most ramen noodles contain egg, which adds to their yellow colour but those used for tonkotsu are made without and are white.

• The name “ramen” may come from the Chinese “lamian” meaning “pulled noodles” although, confusingly, ramen noodles are almost always machine-cut rather than hand-pulled.

• The boiled noodles are served in a soup, usually made with a stock of differing proportions of chicken and pork. The stock is finished with a carefully judged “base” of concentrated seasoning ingredients which may include the fundamental ingredients of the traditional dashi stock, konbu seaweed and katsuboshi (dried bonito flakes) plus soy, miso or salt.

Varying combinations give us the four main types of ramen:

• Shio is predominantly chicken-based and seasoned with salt (shio)

• Shoyu can have chicken, vegetable beef or fish in the base stock but is flavoured with soy sauce (shoyu)

• Miso, originating in Hokkaido, blends chicken or fish stock with fermented soy paste (miso)

• Tonkotsu is mainly derived from pork bones (tonkotsu) with perhaps a little chicken stock added.

• Toppings vary according to region or noodle shop but can include slices of meat or chicken, charsui pork, chopped onions, beansprouts, soft-boiled egg, menma (dried, fermented bamboo shoot), nori seaweed, spinach, pak choi or other greens.

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Tonkotsu

63 Dean St, London W1; 020 7437 0071; www.tonkotsu.co.uk

Book details

‘Slurp! A Social and Culinary History of Ramen’ by Barak Kushner (Global Oriental, £54.67)

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2012.

NY Times: Sharing Lessons From a Farm in Japan

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October 12, 2012

Sharing Lessons From a Farm in Japan

By DAVID TANIS

THOUGH she had intended to spend only one year abroad, Nancy Singleton Hachisu has lived in a small village in rural Japan for more than 20.

As she says, “I came for the food, but stayed for love.” A native Californian, she met Tadaaki, an organic farmer, married him and has been there ever since, raising a family, absorbing the culture and cooking up a storm. Her personal stories make her just-released cookbook, “Japanese Farm Food,” come alive.

I first met Nancy when I cooked at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Calif. Whenever she was in town for a visit, she always came by for a meal or two. She quickly turned from diner to friend, and finally ended up helping out in the kitchen. Her visits always included piles of gifts, a habit picked up in Japan. Sometimes it was a smuggled package of delicate bean curd, sometimes a handmade teacup, but she never arrived empty-handed.

That kind of generosity extends to her cookbook, in which she shares two decades’ worth of cooking knowledge in a disarmingly intimate way.

Nancy is fearless (she says “stubborn” is a better word for it). She simply jumps in and learns. Used to the weather in temperate Northern California, where seasons change only subtly, and it never snows, she needed to change her mind-set when relocating to the Japanese countryside.

Instead of year-round produce, there were harsh winters to contend with, and the concept of real seasonal farm cooking gained meaning. As she discovered, vegetables there during the warmer months are abundant, yet eating farm-to-table often means having the same vegetables for weeks on end, waiting for the next plantings’ offerings to appear.

She writes of tackling daily tasks: pickle-making, rice-planting and the hard labor of harvesting, and joining in seasonal rituals. There’s a lovely description of the communal celebratory pounding of mochi (glutinous rice) for the Japanese New Year to make traditional sweet rice cakes. (Of course, being stubborn as well as foreign, Nancy also insists on her own tradition of Champagne and French gougères for Christmas.)

The book offers a breadth of information, with lessons about Japanese products and techniques, and instructions for everything from homemade tofu to udon noodles. But for me, the recipes for simple vegetable dishes, often flavored with only a bit of miso or a splash of sake, are the most fascinating.

When I made the steamed kabocha squash, I found it astonishingly delicious, straight from the pan or cold the next day. Likewise, the easy salt-massaged cucumbers with roasted sesame proved the point that mindful cooking with minimal ingredients can produce marvelous results.

The Japan Times: Curry - it's more 'Japanese' than you think

Source:

 

Friday, Aug. 26, 2011

FOOD

 

Curry — it's more 'Japanese' than you think

 

By MAKIKO ITOH

Special to The Japan Times

To many people in Japan, summertime is synonymous with hot and spicy food. Spices are believed to cool you down by making you perspire, as well as stimulating an appetite dulled by the sweltering weather. The quintessential spicy dish in Japan is curry, which is so popular that it's regarded, along with ramen, as one of the top two national dishes — ahead of sushi and miso soup.

 

Curry in a hurry: Several brands of instant roux make curry a quick and easy meal for millions around Japan. Meanwhile, eateries from the poshest restaurants to curry chain CoCo Ichibanya take pride in their own special recipes. MAKIKO ITOH PHOTO

 

The spice mix known as curry powder and curried dishes were most likely introduced to Japan via the Anglo-Indian officers of the royal Navy and other stalwarts of the British Empire. They were among the first Westerners the Japanese came into contact with, after Commodore Matthew Perry landed his Black Ships at Kurihama in 1853, opening the country to the world after hundreds of years of isolation. Since this new dish came from the West, as far as these Japanese travelers were concerned, it was classified as yōshoku(Western food).

Nowadays, yōshoku is a distinct type of cooking that encompasses Western-style dishes that have been reinvented to suit Japanese tastes and ingredients. Japanese curry is no exception: Bearing only a passing resemblance to curried dishes from other regions such as India, it has been changed and adapted so much that it now stands on its own as something uniquely Japanese.

In fact, it's a home comfort that many can't bear to be without. Before every Seattle Mariners home game, baseball great Ichiro Suzuki eats the same curry, made by his wife, for lunch (actually breakfast for him, since he "works" into the night). When this was reported on NHK TV in 2009, it caused a short-lived fad for breakfast curry around Japan.

The earliest recipes for raisu karī (literally "rice curry") appeared in Japanese cookbooks in 1872. One of these is very similar to curry recipes that appeared in British cookbooks of the time, such as "Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management." It's a simple meat and vegetable broth thickened with a spoonful of flour rather than roux, and contains chopped apple — as does a Mrs. Beeton recipe for curried veal. It does include yuzu juice as an ingredient, presumably in place of lemon, so adaptations were already being made.

Roux (which is a sauce-thickener in French cuisine) seems to have been adopted by Japanese curry chefs quite early on, possibly because it thickens a sauce more smoothly and reliably without making lumps.

 

Filling snack: Kare pan — doughnuts filled with curry paste — can be found in bakeries all over Japan.

 

Rice curry (initially pronounced as karī, and changed to karēsometime around the turn of the 20th century for unknown reasons) appeared on restaurant menus in Tokyo as early as 1877. At first, it was considered to be quite exotic and expensive, like all Western food. Not only was preparing a proper curry sauce a time-consuming affair requiring the skills of a professional chef, but imported curry powder from Britain — considered to be far superior to the domestic kind — was a luxury only affordable by the rich.

This all changed after the great curry powder scandal of 1931, when unscrupulous dealers were caught selling cheap domestic curry powder as expensive Crosse & Blackwell powder from England. This escalated to an international diplomatic incident, leading to several arrests, but it ironically gave a big boost to domestic curry-powder manufacturers such as S&B Foods, since people discovered that they couldn't really taste the difference.

More and more inexpensive eateries started listing curry dishes on their menus, coming up with inventive items such as karē udon (udon noodles in curry-flavored soup), karē nanban (soba noodles in curry-flavored soup) and karē pan (dough stuffed with curry paste, breaded and deep-fried).

The biggest factor in spreading the popularity of curry nationwide was the introduction of "instant" curry mixes. The forerunners of present-day household names such as House Foods and S&B started to distribute powdered curry mixes on a large scale in the late 1920s. The solid-block type of curry mix that is most popular today was first introduced in 1954; containing roux thickener and various flavor enhancers such as vegetable or meat concentrate, they've been a staple of Japanese home kitchens ever since.

These days, the curry-mix marketplace in Japan is fiercely competitive. Besides the aforementioned big names, several noteworthy yōshoku restaurants produce their own "gourmet" brands.

In 1963, House Foods introduced a curry mix called Vermont Curry. Containing apple concentrate and honey, it was much milder and sweeter than other mixes, and helped to change the perception that curry was too spicy for children. karē raisu (curry rice) has been a perennial kids' favorite ever since, and has been the most popular dish on the national school lunch menu for at least three decades.

 

 

It's also a versatile dish, resulting in all sorts of variations. Emperor Akihito reportedly enjoys regional curries during his visits around the country; and when famed TV comedian Tamori revealed his own special curry recipe, it became popular in its own right.

Curry is also a staple of the armed forces in Japan. It's a tradition to serve karē raisu for dinner every Friday on Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force ships, a carryover from the Imperial Navy days. Each JMSDF ship prides itself on having its own unique curry recipe, some of which are featured on the JMSDF's official website.

Ready-to-eat curry sold in "retort" (pressure-cooked and vacuum-sealed) bags that can be heated in hot water were introduced in 1969, becoming an instant hit. They've been a staple of a hungry student's diet along with cup ramen noodles ever since. Curry packs were even introduced to the NASA space program's menu by Japanese astronaut Mamoru Mohri in 1997. Since they need no refrigeration, they're popular as emergency food rations too. Both Ezaki Glico and House have recently introduced ready-to-eat curries that don't need to be heated up to be tasty, as a response to the increased demand for such items after the March 11 earthquake.

Indian, Thai and other south Asian restaurants have proliferated in recent years, exposing Japan to many other types of curry dishes. Japanese curry still holds a special place in our hearts though. It's what we grew up with.

Makiko Itoh is the author of "The Just Bento Cookbook" (Kodansha International). She writes about bento lunches at www.justbento.comand about Japanese cooking and more at www.justhungry.com.

 

Recipe for beef curry with rice  This recipe goes back to the roots of Japanese curry; it's almost a rich beef stew. Beef symbolized the opening of the country to outside influences in Meiji Era Japan. Leftover curry freezes well, but take out the potatoes or they will turn into mush. Japanese curry mixes are labeled with their level of spice. Amakuchi is quite sweet, chūkara is medium and karakuchi is hot. I usually use a chūkara mix and add some red chili powder at the end if I think it needs more heat. Serves 12 Stewing beef such as chuck (neck/shoulder) cut into 1 cm pieces — 500 g Vegetable oil — 2 tbsp Butter — 2 tbsp Large onions — 5, thinly sliced Ginger — 1 large piece, finely chopped Garlic — 3 cloves, finely chopped Medium carrots — 3, sliced 5 cm thick Medium potatoes — 4, peeled and cut into 1.5 cm pieces Water — 1.5 liters plus ½ cup Dried bay leaves — 2 Commercial curry mix — 240g (1 large packet or 2 small packets) Red chili powder (optional) Plain steamed rice Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a heavy-bottomed pan over high heat and add the beef. Saute until well browned. Take the meat out and set aside. Add the rest of the oil and the butter to the pan; add the onion, garlic and ginger. Saute over medium-low heat until the onion has lightly browned. Turn the heat up to high and add the carrots, potatoes and beef. Saute briefly, then add 1.5 liters of water and the bay leaves. When the pot starts to boil, lower the heat to a gentle simmer. 20 minutes in, remove the potatoes with a slotted spoon or spatula (this prevents the potatoes from disintegrating). Continue simmering the sauce until the meat is falling-apart tender, an hour or more. Remove the pot from the heat. Add ½ cup of water to cool down the sauce, then add the curry mix, broken into small chunks. Stir until the mix has melted completely. Add the cooked potatoes back and reheat the sauce over a medium-low heat — do not let it boil. Add a little red chili powder to taste if needed. Put some hot steamed rice on one half of a shallow bowl; pour the curry on the other half. Serve with fukujinzuke (a chopped vegetable pickle, pictured),rakkyo (pickled shallots), grated cheese or a raw or boiled egg.

 

ST: Japanese curry favours

Article from Sunday Times. For those who prefer to cook Japanese Curry without using those curry cubes available in Supermarket.

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Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

Apr 17, 2011

Japanese curry favours

By Chris Tan, Ask The Foodie

Getting an authentic-tasting Japanese curry right takes a lot of patience and stirring. -- PHOTO: CHRIS TAN

 

Q My family likes Japanese curry. I have tried cooking this several times at home but am just not able to get the same taste as that served in restaurants. I hope to be able to prepare this from scratch and cook it frequently for my kids as they love this dish very much. Ready mixes use palm oil, MSG and artificial flavours and I am reluctant to use them for frequent consumption.

Elaine Sio

This question wins a Silit econtrol Pressure Cooker Duo Set consisting of 4.5L Pressure Cooker and 3L Pressure Pan, worth $699, sponsored by Silit.

A Glowing with mellow warmth and yoshoku (foreign food) glamour, Japanese curry is a fascinating beast.

Its reliance on a roux (cooked flour paste) and fruit for body and flavour are characteristic of its Anglo-Indian roots.

British merchant and navy ships, whose cooks were well versed in colonial cuisine, made contact with Japan's ports and its imperial navy in the 1800s and passed on their Anglo-Indian curry recipes. The dish quickly became popular in the military followed by school kitchens and eventually evolved into the staple it is today.

My recipe is a simplified version of those used by old-school Japanese curry restaurants and serves four to five people. You might want to make a double quantity all at once since this takes only a little more effort than a single quantity.

Finely chop 250g of onions. Heat 2 tablespoons of lard or oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onions and stir frequently until caramelised to a reddish-brown. Take care not to burn the mix.

Add 4 tablespoons of pounded ginger and garlic. Fry for another 4 to 5 minutes until you smell a sweet fragrance. Scrape mixture into a bowl and set aside.

Add 1 tablespoon oil to the same pan and raise the heat to medium-high. Add four chicken thighs and drumsticks each (or about 1.2kg of whatever meat you desire) and lightly brown them.

Next, pour 1 litre of chicken, beef or vegetable stock into the pan and bring to a simmer. Throw in 1 cinnamon stick, half a star anise, 4 cloves and 4 cardamom pods, cover and let the stock bubble gently for 30 minutes until chicken is cooked but not yet tender. Take the pan off the fire and set it aside, still covered.

Now, the roux. In a non-stick, large, heavy-based pot, heat 100ml of oil over medium-low heat. Add 35g of plain flour and stir constantly. Scrape the bottom and corners of the pan to avoid scorching. Do this for 15 to 20 minutes until the mixture darkens to the colour of tea with condensed milk.

Be patient, as a good roux is crucial to a curry's success. If it starts to scorch and throws up black specks of burnt flour, ditch it and start again because it will make the curry taste nasty. Add 25g of Japanese curry powder (try sauce mix brand S&B) to the roux and turn heat to low to cook. Be sure to stir for another 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a blender, combine the cooled fried onion mixture with half of a carrot, grated, 1 apple, peeled, cored and chopped, 1 small peeled banana, 200g of cherry tomatoes, 100ml of Japanese soy sauce and 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce (Lea & Perrins). Blend to a fine paste. Scrape paste into the curry roux and stir well to combine. It will be very thick. Turn heat down to very low and cook for 10 minutes, stirring constantly to avoid scorching.

Commercial Japanese curry roux that has been solidified and moulded into blocks is the mixture that has been cooked up to this point. If you like, you can cool and portion it into freezer containers to freeze for up to three weeks. Without thawing, take the frozen roux and proceed with the recipe.

Ladle all the liquid from the chicken pan into the curry roux pot and stir to mix. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, then add the chicken. Cut two or three cleaned carrots and potatoes each into large chunks and add them into the pot. Cover and simmer gently for 45 minutes until meat and vegetables are tender. Stir in 1 teaspoon instant coffee powder (some Japanese recipes add cocoa powder instead, or as well). Adjust the seasoning to taste with more salt, black pepper, brown sugar, honey, soy or Worcestershire sauce. At this stage, it should be slightly spicier and a bit more intense than you like it to be.

Now comes the most difficult part. Let the curry cool completely, transfer it to an airtight container and cover tightly. Refrigerate and wait one or two days for it to mature. The overall taste should become fuller, less spicy and more rounded and the meat and vegetables will absorb lots of flavour. Japanese curry restaurants may mature their base sauce for several days before serving it.

Finally, bring the curry to a full boil. Cook for a minute or so to make sure it is fully heated up.

Dish and serve with hot rice and fukujin-zuke (mixed vegetable pickles, sold in every Japanese supermarket). Pat yourself on the back. Make sure your curry-eaters treat you to a shoulder massage or foot reflexology session.

NY Times: Where Steaming Fried Noodles Spell Relief

 

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March 19, 2011

Where Steaming Fried Noodles Spell Relief

By KIM SEVERSON

Ramen is usually just steps away from hungry diners in most parts of Japan. Often, it’s in the form of flash-fried, pre-seasoned noodles packed into cellophane bags and foam cups. Now instant ramen is being sent by the truckload to the survivors of the Japanese earthquake.

Of course, instant ramen was born of hardship. In the aftermath of World War II, a Taiwanese businessman named Momofuku Ando was inspired by two things: long lines of starving people waiting for fresh ramen in Osaka and a government edict encouraging people to eat bread made with wheat flour donated by the United States. They pushed bread because noodle companies were too small to handle the demand.

But the entrepreneur had a better idea: mass-produced noodles. In 1958, after several years of experimenting, he began selling chicken-flavored instant ramen to appeal to export markets averse to pork or beef. It was the precursor to Top Ramen. His company, Nissin Foods, would later strike gold in America with Cup Noodles and its varieties of flavors.

From its beginnings in Japan, and despite misgivings about its nutritional merits, instant ramen has found devotees worldwide among the poor and those too tired or ill-equipped to cook. It is the belly-filling standby of travelers and cabdrivers and office workers too busy to leave their desks. In American dorm rooms, ramen sustains the starving student.

I once wrote an article about women in prison who so longed to cook that they figured out ways to approximate the creativity of the kitchen while incarcerated. A favorite recipe was instant ramen noodles dressed up with items from the prison commissary: sliced Slim Jims and crushed Cheetos.

Instant ramen is now entrenched in popular culture. An emo-pop record label, started on a shoestring, is named Fueled by Ramen. There are books like “Chicken-Flavored Ramen for the Soul” and thousands of recipes dedicated to dressing it up. One company sells a little silicone figurine that holds down the lid of a ramen cup, changing color when the ramen is done.

But instant ramen’s essential appeal, beyond cost, convenience and kitsch, is that noodle soup is soulful and soothing.

“At the very basic level, however it was produced, you are getting hot soup and noodles, and that is one of the most basic comfort foods the world has ever known,” said the chef David Chang, who led a ramen revolution of sorts in Manhattan with his steaming bowls of fresh ramen at ’Momofuku Noodle Bar in the East Village. (And who, for the record, says his restaurant is not named after the founder of instant noodles, but rather because momo in Japanese means peach and fuku means lucky.)

Nutritionists and the diet-conscious have made instant ramen a noodle non grata. One packet contains about half the maximum amount of sodium anyone should eat in a day. And most versions are fried, sometimes with particularly unhealthy trans fat.

But attacking instant ramen donated to feed Japanese earthquake victims would be just wrong, said Mr. Chang. It’s still very cold in the north, and there was a recent snow. Although potable water is at a premium, those who can find a source of fuel might melt snow or ice to turn dried noodles into sustenance.

“You are not going to tell a starving person they can’t eat that,” he said. “Now is not the time. For the dire situation they’re in, I can’t imagine a better food.”

 

WSJ: No Cute Frills, Just Taste - Just Bento

January 13, 2011, 9:45 PM JST

No Cute Frills, Just Taste — Just Bento

A new book called “Just Bento” is just that – a guide to how to make Japanese lunchbox meals where the rice doesn’t smile back.

Kodansha International

Makiko Itoh’s “Just Bento” went on sale in the U.S. in December.

Japanese bentos, known as lunchboxes, have gained a global cult following, sometimes fostered by a syrupy cuteness in the dishes. Rice balls smile back, a hot dog is pan-fried into the shape of an octopus and a car is parked on a bed of lettuce. So “kawai,” or cute, have some of these bentos become that they have become more a shrine to Sanrio characters like Hello Kitty than to food itself.

But Makiko Itoh’s book “Just Bento” brings the focus back to the lunchbox basics: Creating a healthy, homemade meal (cartoon characters not included).

“So far I think the focus on bento boxes outside of Japan has been on the cute decorative bento,” said Ms. Itoh, a former web designer turned prolific bento blogger, in an interview with JRT. “I just wanted to tell people that carrying a bento box is a great way of carrying a homemade meal.”

Ms. Itoh’s book, which was released in the U.S. in December and published by Kodansha International, is an unintimidating introductory guide to the art of bento making. The approach is easy to digest and easy to follow, keeping to the tone that helped Ms. Itoh’s blog of the same name gain a big and loyal following. The first recipe, chicken and three-color pepper stir-fry bento, includes a how-to on fixing rice for the lunchbox, a different set of guidelines from if you were to cook a fresh bowl for dinner.

Flickr/Gamene Too cute to eat?

The recipe selection ranges from staple items like “tamagoyaki,” a type of sweet omelet, and the crowd-pleasing chicken “kara-age,” Japan’s version of the fried chicken. But for the days a rice-based bento doesn’t sing to you, the second half of the book is dedicated to Western influenced recipes, like deconstructed salade nicoise bento and the Mediterranean mezze-style bento.

Convenience is another focus in the book. Tips on how to cut down morning preparation time are sprinkled throughout, an approximate timeline on how long it will take to fix the menu accompanies each lunchbox concoction, and most ingredients can be found at the local grocery store.

But Ms. Itoh doesn’t starve the book of the cute factor entirely. Drops of flower-shaped carrots surround the mini-hamburger, and ham and cheese sandwiches come with bunny ears. After all, artistry and presentation is an essential part of the bento.

Follow Yoree Koh on Twitter @yoreekoh

Copyright 2008 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved

WSJ: Mochi - New Year's Silent Killer

January 4, 2011, 3:04 PM JST

Mochi: New Year’s Silent Killer

On Saturday, a 66-year-old woman on the outskirts of Tokyo fell victim to a deadly seasonal hazard that lands dozens in the emergency room every year on January 1: sticky rice cakes.

Sticky rice cakes, or mochi, as the Japanese call them, are made by pounding the life out of glutinous rice and are a staple during the Japanese new year feast. The average Japanese consumes about 1 kg of mochi annually, most of which is eaten during the first week of new year, according to the mochi trade association website.

Rhosoi/Flickr Mochi served in a dish known as zoni makes it stickier and more deathly.

While harmless to most, mochi claims a handful of lives every year by getting lodged in the throats and blocking the airways of elderly eaters whose mastication abilities and saliva secretion may be weakened by age. According to the Tokyo Fire Department, this traditional food sends over 100 patients to the hospital every year in Tokyo alone—mostly aged 60 and over— half of which end up in serious condition or worse. Between 2006 and 2009, 18 people died from mochi suffocation in Tokyo, making it the leading food item to cause suffocation.

During the new year, consumption shoots up, as does mochi’s deadly viscosity—mochi is served submerged in hot broth as a dish known as zoni, making it stickier than it would be if prepared otherwise. Almost half of mochi-inflicted injuries in Tokyo occur in January. The Japanese media has reported eight mochi-related deaths in Tokyo in the first three days of the new year.

While these tragic yet preventable deaths are largely accepted as part of the New Year’s landscape, some are beginning to question the preferential treatment given to mochi. In 2008, fruit jelly with konjac yam powder was vilified after 22 people were reported to have suffocated from it over the span of 13 years. After much investigation involving doctors, dentists and engineers, the Japanese government decided last month that the shape and size of the fruit jelly should be altered. That the Food Safety Commission found mochi to be about 50 times more dangerous than konjac jelly seemed to have gone ignored.

With the reports of this year’s mochi death toll mounting, Japanese have bloggers are wondering out loud about the unfairness of mochi’s untouchable status. “The only reason why mochi isn’t regulated is because it’s a traditional food item,” says one blogger. “Is it just easier to pick on a limited number of konjac jelly makers, compared to countless mochi producers?” If bloggers get their way, Prime Minister Naoto Kan  may have one more sticky issue on his new year’s plate.

Read this post in Japanese/日本語訳はこちら≫

Copyright 2008 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved

ST: Soba so satisfying

Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

Nov 14, 2010

Soba so satisfying

This noodle dish topped with mushrooms and flying fish roe makes light work of packing lunch to the office

By Tan Hsueh Yun, Hunger Management

Use at least three types of mushrooms to add texture and different flavours to your soba. -- ST PHOTO: LENNE CHAI

Although we have a fairly good canteen at work and a number of eating places around our office in Toa Payoh North, quite a lot of us bag lunch or dinner to work.

I suppose eating out all the time gets tiresome, and it is dead boring choosing from the same old things in the canteen.

When I take lunch or dinner to work, it's usually something simple - a sandwich or a simple stir-fry. Sometimes, I might assemble a salad or pack up some leftovers.

If I have been testing recipes for work, then I eat multiple versions of what I cook. This happens until I perfect the recipe or I get thoroughly sick of it, whichever comes first.

But one of my colleagues really takes things to the extreme. K's office meals are more like banquets that come in multiple, reusable boxes.

When she has mee siam for lunch, it is made from scratch. The noodles are in a separate box from the gravy and the limes have their own little container too.

She warms up bak kwa in the office toaster oven before eating.

The celery and carrot sticks she snacks on are cut precisely into slim batons and the sesame sauce she dips them in is from her favourite Japanese restaurant.

She looked at me disapprovingly last week when I ate a cold sandwich right out of the fridge. She would have toasted it perfectly so that even the middle bit would be warm.

I just shrugged. It was a mad Friday.

But really, I am in awe of her because I cannot summon all that enthusiasm when cooking just for one.

Sure, I have been through phases where I cooked elaborate meals for myself but truth be told, I get excited only at the prospect of cooking for others.

So when K asked recently if I wanted to try some soba she had made, I thought, oh, a simple meal?

I was pretty sure we were just going to dunk some cold Japanese buckwheat noodles into a dipping sauce spiked with some wasabi.

But of course, I was wrong.

Out came the boxes: One of cooked soba, one of sauteed mushrooms, one of toasted sesame seeds, one of tobiko or flying fish roe. Then there were two little bottles, one with soba dipping sauce in it, and the other filled with sesame seed salad dressing. There was also a packet of seaweed.

Using the boiling water dispenser and the microwave oven in the pantry, she whipped up a light, delicious noodle dish in just minutes.

The succulent mushrooms had been sauteed with gomamiso or miso paste with sesame seeds. And the flying fish roe, with their distinctive bright orange hue, were so fun to eat, bursting when I bit into them.

It is easy enough to reproduce at home and to make enough for company. Instead of seaweed, I use spring onions, and am planning to try shredded shiso leaves next time. Slim spears of asparagus, blanched, would be good too.

With so many kinds of mushrooms available in supermarkets now, try and use at least three different types, for texture and different flavours. I love white shimeji, firm Swiss browns and earthy shiitakes. Pearl grey oyster mushrooms are good too, as are slender willow mushrooms.

The recipe does call for many Japanese ingredients and all of them are available at the Isetan supermarket in Shaw Centre.

This is an unconventional way to eat soba, to be sure. Some Japanese people might be horrified. But the different textures and flavours make for a lip-smacking meal, whether for one or for many.

I guess I'll give those cold sandwiches a rest for now, and take something more interesting to work.

hsueh@sph.com.sg

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Mushroom mix in a basket: (clockwise from bottom) shimeji, shiitake and Swiss Brown

MAKE IT YOURSELF: MUSHROOM SOBA

INGREDIENTS

2 Tbs sesame seeds

500g mushrooms - mix of Swiss brown, button, shiitake, shimeji or oyster

1 Tbs vegetable oil

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2 Tbs gomamiso

400g green tea soba

2 spring onions, sliced on the diagonal

4 Tbs soba sauce

4 Tbs sesame salad dressing

4 Tbs tobiko

METHOD

1. Toast the sesame seeds in a small, non-stick frying pan over medium-low heat. Shake the pan a few times and watch that the sesame seeds don't burn. When they are a light golden brown, turn off heat, pour seeds onto a plate and set aside to cool.

2. Bring a large pot of water to boil.

3. Wipe the mushrooms with damp paper towels. If using shiitake or button mushrooms, remove the stems and cut each one into quarters. Quarter the Swiss browns. Cut off the root end of the shimeji, separate the mushrooms into small clumps. Chop oyster mushrooms into large chunks.

4. Heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. When the surface of the oil starts to shimmer, add the garlic. Stir-fry for 30 seconds. Add mushrooms and stir-fry for 2 minutes. Add the gomamiso, mix well with the mushrooms, stir-fry for 3 minutes or until the mushrooms have softened. Turn off heat, pour mushrooms and pan juices into a large glass mixing bowl.

5. Add soba to boiling water and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, depending on how chewy you like your noodles. Start checking after 4 minutes. Reserve about 250ml of the cooking water, drain noodles and add to mixing bowl.

6. Add spring onions, soba sauce and sesame salad dressing. Mix well with a fork and spoon.

If the noodles are too dry, add some of the reserved soba cooking water, 1 Tbs at a time to prevent the noodles from clumping up.

7. Divide the soba into four bowls, top each one with sesame seeds and 1 Tbs of tobiko. Serve immediately.

Serves four.

ST: So bad it's good

Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

Oct 3, 2010

So bad it's good

When a craving strikes, even unhealthy fare like luncheon meat never fails to satisfy

By Tan Hsueh Yun, Hunger Management

Pair the humble luncheon meat with the stirfried egg and bittergourd, put in between burger buns and you get the delicious Chanpuru Burger. -- ST PHOTOS: BENJAMIN NG

 

Call me perverse but sometimes, in the middle of a healthy, refined and elegant meal, I start to think bad thoughts.

I could be eating sushi or maybe grilled fish and salad and visions of fried chicken or thick cut fries or roast pork would suddenly pop into my head.

Recently, in the middle of a very lovely kaiseki meal, I said to the friend I was dining with: 'Sometimes, when I eat this sort of food...'

'You want something unhealthy?'

See? I am not the only one. We went for Korean fried chicken afterwards.

Oh dear. And there's more.

One night while relaxing over drinks after work, my friends and I became very enchanted by the Spam Fries that Wild Oats, a bar at Mount Emily, serves. The batons of luncheon meat are fried till crisp. We dunked them into kaffir-lime flavoured mayonnaise, unable to stop ourselves.

And to think, we were planning to have just one drink each - no food, no nibbles - before heading home.

Since then, visions of luncheon meat have been popping into my head at all times of the day and night. I should shoot myself. What self-respecting food writer thinks about processed meat? Shouldn't I be yearning instead for grass-fed beef or pork from pigs that are fed an organic diet? But the belly wants what it wants.

I don't eat luncheon meat often but when I was growing up, my mother would sometimes fry slices of it for lunch, or make an omelette with it. Our family favours the Ma Ling brand and I like the firm, slightly chunky texture of it.

My favourite way to eat it is panfried and in a sandwich with slices of cucumber. Yes cucumber. Who am I kidding, right? But the crisp, green rounds, greasy meat and soft white bread (the kind I will never own up to eating) come together so deliciously.

Since it is useless to fight food cravings, I decided to give in to mine and make something that is both healthy and unhealthy: a Chanpuru Burger.

The idea comes from Okinawa, Japan. People there are said to live long because of a healthy diet that includes lots of vegetables, tofu, seaweed and fish. Chanpuru is a popular dish, a stirfry made with goya or bittergourd, and egg. Other ingredients might include pork, chicken and tofu.

Paradoxically, the Spam brand of luncheon meat is also popular in the cluster of islands in Southern Japan. It was introduced by the American troops stationed there. The Japanese add it to chanpuru and make onigiri or rice balls with it.

A fast food chain, Jef, came up with the brilliant idea of combining chanpuru and Spam in a burger, and I set out to copy it.

The important thing is to get the luncheon meat good and crispy. A round 400g tin will yield four good-sized patties, but if you want to be really, really bad, just slice it into three. Simply let the meat brown in a non-stick pan over medium heat.

Knobbly Japanese bittergourd is what the Okinawans use in chanpuru but sometimes, even Japanese supermarkets here don't stock it. I just use the local variety available in wet markets and most supermarkets.

If you wanted to, you could get an artisanal burger bun, but the soft squishy kind works best here. Slather it with what TV cook Paula Deen would call a 'gracious dollop' of mayonnaise spiked with ichimi togarashi, Japanese red pepper flakes.

The resulting burger is simply delicious - virtue and vice in every bite.

For those who cannot contemplate eating something like that, I've included a recipe for a straight-up chanpuru.

There is a catch of course. It has sliced pork belly in it.

hsueh@sph.com.sg

---

MAKE IT YOURSELF: CHANPURU BURGER

INGREDIENTS

1 400g tin luncheon meat

1 small bittergourd, about 250g

2 Tbs sesame oil

1/2 tsp salt

1 Tbs sake

3 eggs, lightly beaten

1 Tbs Japanese rice vinegar (optional)

4 Tbs Japanese mayonnaise

1/2 tsp ichimi togarashi (above) or to taste

4 hamburger buns

METHOD

1. Remove luncheon meat from the tin, slice into four equally thick rounds. Place in a large non-stick fry pan over medium heat. Cook until well browned, flip over and brown the other side. Place on a plate lined with paper towels, set aside.

2. Wash the bittergourd under running water, dry with paper towels. Trim both ends, cut the gourd in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and spongy core. Slice each piece in half lengthwise, then cut into thin slices crosswise.

3. Warm the sesame oil in a wok or medium fry pan over medium heat. Add the bittergourd, stir fry 2 minutes. Add salt and sake, stir fry another 2 minutes.

4. Add the beaten eggs, mix well with the bittergourd. Just as the eggs are about to set, add the rice vinegar (if using), give the mixture one last stir and turn off the heat.

5. In a small bowl, mix the mayonnaise with ichimi togarashi. Slice the hamburger buns in half and spread each half with the mayonnaise mixture. Place one slice of luncheon meat on each bottom half of the bun. Divide the bittergourd mixture into four equal portions and spoon onto the patties. Cap each burger with the top half of the bun. Eat immediately.

Serves four.

VARIATION: CHANPURU

INGREDIENTS

1 medium bittergourd, about 400g

100g thinly sliced pork belly

1 square firm tofu (tau kwa)

3 Tbs sesame oil

1 tsp salt or to taste

3 Tbs sake

4 eggs, lightly beaten

2 Tbs rice vinegar

METHOD

1. Wash the bittergourd under running water, dry with paper towels. Trim off both ends, cut the gourd in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and spongy core. Slice each piece in half lengthwise, then cut into thin slices crosswise.

2. Cut the slices of pork belly crosswise into 2cm pieces.

3. Halve the square of tofu and slice crosswise into 0.5cm pieces.

4. Heat the sesame oil over a large fry pan over medium heat. Add the pork, separate the pieces with a spatula or a pair of chopsticks. Stirfry about 1 minute, add the bittergourd and stirfry 2 minutes. Add the tofu, stirfry 2 minutes. Add salt and sake, stirfry another 2 minutes.

5. Add the egg and mix it in well. Just as the egg is about to set, add the rice vinegar, give the mixture one last stir and turn off the heat. Check for seasonings and add more salt if needed. Serve with rice.

Serves four.

Boing Boing: Sailor Moon bento box

Sailor Moon bento box

Cory Doctorow at 10:20 PM Sunday, Sep 26, 2010

 

This elaborate, kick-ass Sailor Moon bento box was created as an entry in a bento competition (<-- many other wonderful entries to be seen!).

The Most Amazing Sailor Moon Bento Box You'll Ever See (via Neatorama)