Blue Lotus

Pad Thai

Pad Thai (Thai-style fried rice noodles) with bean sprouts, eggs, fried tofu and shrimp, served on lettuce; with garlic-sauteed tomyo (green pea sprouts).

Pad Thai is incredibly popular back home in Canada; it is the one Thai dish everyone knows. Here in Japan I was surprised to discover things are different: the best-loved Thai dish here is tom yam kung (hot and sour shrimp soup). It's a delicious soup, but rather fussy; also fussy is the next most popular Thai food: fried rice served in a scooped-out pineapple. Nothing wrong with either of those dishes, but sometimes I yearn for a fast, cheap and simple plate of pad Thai.

Luckily its easy to make at home. Even luckier: it is well suited to adaptation, and even bastardized versions can turn out deliciously. The pad Thai I made tonight is a good example: I made it without tamarind paste (can't find it here), cilantro (husband can't stand it), peanuts (we were all out so I topped the noodles with cashews instead) or lime (substituted lemon as I can't stand paying the equivalent of $2 for a lime). And yet it was lovely. It satisfied my cravings and had my husband, who fervently believes he hates South East Asian food, asking for seconds.

I followed a Canadianized recipe from The New Canadian Basics, a great cookbook that I often turn to for non-Japanese recipes. It took me a long time to actually use this cookbook, as it has no pictures at all and thus doesn't get looked at as much as the prettier cookbooks on my shelves. But a cookbook doesn't need food porn to be good, and once I started actually reading it discovered that it's a great resource, and I've loved every recipe I've tried. It's kind of like a mini Joy of Cooking, only better.

Orecchiette con rapine e vongole

Orecchiette con rapine e vongole: "little ear" pasta with rapini and littleneck clams. This dish is usually made with broccoli, but now that rapini (called nanohana in Japanese and also known as broccoli rabe or rape blossom) are showing up on supermarket shelves I thought I'd try that instead.

It turned out very nicely, but next time I'll make sure to serve it with some nice bread to sop up the juices with. Those were some seriously tasty juices, I tells ya.

Here is the recipe, modified from one I found on the Bertolli Olive Oil website. It makes 2 big servings, or will serve 3 as a first course. If you're not a fan of rapini, substitute 1 head of broccoli.

Orecchiette con rapine e vongole

• 200 g orecchiette or any short pasta
• 1 package (about 200 g) rapini
• 30 littleneck clams, cleaned*
• 2 cloves garlic
• 2 dried chili peppers, or a pinch of red pepper flakes
• 3 tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
• 100 ml white wine
• Salt
• 1 bunch parsley, chopped

Trim ends from rapini, cut in halves or thirds. Scrub the clams, slice garlic thinly, and cut chili peppers in half lengthwise. Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil.

Add the pasta to the pot and cook until a little firmer than al dente, then add the rapini. Parboil for 1 minute and drain the pasta and rapini together, reserving a little bit of the water.

Meanwhile, place the clams in a saucepan with the white wine, cover and cook over high heat until all shells are open. Remove the clams from their shells, leaving a few in their shells for presentation, and discard any clams with unopened shells. Set clams aside; strain and reserve the cooking liquid.

In a large frying pan, heat olive oil on medium-low and add garlic, sauteing until fragrant. Add halved chili peppers, if using, and saute for a few more minutes. Add reserved clam cooking liquid, increase heat to high-medium and bring to a simmer. Add salt to taste; if a more soupy sauce is desired add a small amount of the reserved pasta boiling water.

Add the clams, pasta and rapini to the pan; cook for a few minutes, stirring to mix well, until pasta is al dente. Spoon into shallow bowls, arrange a few clams in their shell on top, and sprinkle with parsley.


* Most clams are sold already cleaned, but if you aren't sure about yours then soak them in cold salt water for several hours or overnight. Use 1 teaspoon of salt per 200 ml of water, using enough water to cover the clams. After soaking, don't drain by dumping the clams and water out together; instead pick the clams out of the water by hand and discard the water separately. Rinse them well, then scrub then. All clams, whether pre-cleaned or cleaned at home, need to be scrubbed.

Fun with trees

It may be warm outside these days, but it really is winter-- a trip to the local park proves it, with drab views of bare trees. Cherry blossoms fill the park in spring, in summer the green leaves and grass make a lovely sight, and the colourful leaves brighten up the autumn. But in the winter, unless we get a nice snowfall, the park isn't much to look at. At least at first glance.

But if we look hard enough we find that the park has plenty to see. The trees still have plenty of charm, and are just as climbable now as they are in other seasons.

More park pictures here.

しゃぶしゃぶ

We've kind of settled into the habit of having nabe (hotpot) every weekend, which is fine by me: I'd eat it every day if we had the time. Tonight's nabe was shabu-shabu, which we don't have often because it's a bit fancy: it requires a special cut of meat and two dipping sauces.

Beef is the traditional meat used, but pork is popular as well and that's what we had (nearly anything can be used, such as lamb, octopus and crab). A fattier cut of meat is preferred, and it must be sliced paper-thin. Shabushabu differs from other nabe in that the meat is not left in the pot to cook-- it is just swished around in the hot broth for a few seconds until it cooks. As it swishes around in the bubbling liquid, it makes a sound described as shabushabu, which is where the dish gets its name. The the pot is similar to a Mongolian style steamboat, and indeed shabu-shabu is derived from Mongolian hotpot, the quick-cooking fondue-like mutton dish favoured by Genghis Khan and his soldiers.

Besides pork, we had cabbage; atsu-age (fried tofu); negi (green onions); eringi mushrooms; enokidake mushrooms; shiitake; kuzu-kiri (glass noodles); and shungiku (chrysanthemum leaves). Traditionally there would be hakusai (Chinese cabbage) and silken tofu rather than cabbage and atsu-age, but otherwise this is a fairly standard shabu-shabu.

The broth is a simple kombu dashi (kelp stock) which becomes richer and tastier as the meal progresses. The two dipping sauces are oroshi-ponzu (grated daikon with ponzu, or citron-soy sauce) and goma-dare (sesame sauce, made with toasted sesame, kombu dashi, sake, soy sauce and sugar). Part of the fun of shabu-shabu is seeing which ingredient goes best with which dipping sauce. I think the atsu-age, enokidake and shungiku were best in the rich, creamy goma-dare, while the rest was better in the piquant oroshi-ponzu.

It's not easy holding slippery food with chopsticks in one hand and taking pictures with the other, so I didn't get the sexy pork shots I wanted. But here's a limp eringi mushroom being dipped in goma-dare. Sorry, this was the best I could do.

After all the ingredients are used up, udon is added to the remaining broth to make a noodle soup. Topped with negi and whatever is left of the dipping sauces, it was a delicious way to finish a delicious meal.

豚キムチ

Tonight's dinner was my favourite emergency dish: buta-kimchi. I call it an emergency dish because of its incredible ease of cooking: it takes just a few minutes to saute, and in its purest form requires only two ingredients: thinly sliced pork, and kimchi (spicy Korean pickled cabbage). It's possible to add vegetables and other flavourings though, and this time I doctored it up a bit: to make a milder, less spicy version I used less kimchi than normal and added sake and soy sauce. Buta-kimchi is great with beer or rice, and while most Japanese have to choose one or the other (as many people here avoid having alcohol and rice together), as a foreigner I'm free to have both. Woohoo!

Because you can never have too much pork, I also managed to include bacon in the meal: bacon-wrapped scallops on a salad of mizuna greens and grape tomatoes. And to round off the meal with some slime, a cup of natto (fermented soybeans).

Judy

The roubai (wintersweet) bloomed early this year, thanks to the warm winter we've been having. They are the first flowers of the year, and as this picture was taken a few weeks ago, are already past their peak. Ume (Japanese apricot) won't be too far off, and then it will be time for the sakura (cherry blossoms) to bloom.

This is how I keep track of each year's progression: by noting the flowers in bloom. But in life, there are other ways to mark the passage of time.

A family friend died yesterday.

Judy was the mother of one of one of my two childhood best friends. Not only that, though; the friendship of three 5-year old girls brought our entire families together. We had all moved to the same street of a brand-new subdivision, and as us girls ran endlessly from house to house, the adults eventually followed. There were constant get-togethers, barbeques, and holiday dinners together, and Judy became a kind of second mother to me.

By our teens we girls had drifted apart, thanks to different schools, a few moves far away, and grumpy teenage self-preoccupation (I think that last one applies to me only, actually). But our parents remained close friends and managed to keep meeting up, and eventually us girls grew up and became friends again. Perhaps not in the same way as when we were five, but I'm very grateful for our friendship, in whatever form it takes.

Krista, Johanna, and their families were at my wedding 7 years ago, and that was the last I saw of Judy.

As children grow up, there are a number of "firsts" that friends will inevitably compare with each other, and I remember the excitement or dread involved in anticipating and reporting these events. Like losing teeth or learning to ride a bicycle; getting periods and training bras; and eventually, getting a car, moving out, buying a house, getting married, and having a baby. Not that all of us accomplished everything on that list (for example, I still don't need a training bra), but the milestones are there and noted.

And then the grimmest milestone of all: first parent to die. It's something I never imagined as a kid, and something I've purposely avoided thinking about as an adult. Because it's too horrible to think about. But now that every death I hear of reminds me of my own parent's deaths, I'm starting to realize: they won't live forever. Judy's death has brought home that fact in the saddest way possible. Judy, who I haven't seen in years and hardly have the right to call her my second mother, but will always think of as just that.

Those of you who have mothers, give them a hug right now. And then hug everyone else you love. Because you won't be able to do it forever.

Meatloaf

Meatloaf with mushroom sauce and green beans sauteed with garlic and parsley. I seem to have forgotten to add a starch-- mashed potatoes would have been great.

But what do I know. This is my first time making meatloaf, and I wasn't really sure what to serve with it. I didn't eat a lot of it growing up-- I guess we weren't a meatloaf kind of family-- and it's not the kind of thing one finds in restaurants. Or at least not here in Japan.

The recipe (found here on Epicurious) suggested the meatloaf be served with ketchup, which sounded a bit gross to me. But when I tried to think of what kind of sauce is normally served with meatloaf my mind went blank. So what goes with meatloaf? Gravy? HP sauce? I think the mushroom sauce I made worked out well, but I'm just curious about how it's normally done. Because I liked this meatloaf and plan to cook it again soon.

Cream of broccoli soup

Sometimes all I want for dinner is soup and a sandwich.

鶏団子ともち餃子の鍋

Tonight's dinner: tori-dango to mochi-gyoza no nabe (hotpot with chicken meatballs and rice cake dumplings).

In the left-hand basket: maitake mushrooms; Pacific cod; salmon; mochi-gyoza (dumplings stuffed with rice cake). Right-hand basket: yaki-doufu (grilled firm tofu); shimeji mushrooms; shiitake; hakusai no horenso maki (spinach and Chinese cabbage rolls). In bowls: chicken meatball mix, made with ground chicken, garlic, ginger, egg, sesame oil, soy sauce, and shokoshu (Chinese sake); and daikon oroshi (grated daikon radish).

The chicken balls and mochi-gyoza were made by my husband, all I had to do was chop up the other ingredients and make a light broth, with konbu (kelp), sake and soy sauce. The broth had some of the nabe ingredients (the fish and some green onions) pre-cooked in it to add extra flavour, then it was brought to the table where we cooked the nabe ingredients in it little by little.

Once cooked, the ingredients were cooled down a in a mixture of daikon oroshi, ponzu (sour citrus soy sauce) and shichimi (seven spice mix) and eaten, slowly. Nabe is a very relaxed way to eat, and it took us over an hour to finish it off. Nabe is also incredibly warming, and by the end of the meal we'd turned off the heat and removed several layers of clothes.

That's not nearly as sexy as it sounds, since without central heating we need to wear a lot of layers, and even after stripping down we were still left fully clothed. Which is a good thing: it spared us the sight of each other's bulging, nabe-filled bellies...

ラム肉カレーうどん

One of our best "emergency meals" ever. I came back from a wine class (more on that another time) a bit too tipsy to do any proper shopping, figuring there would be enough random food in the house to make dinner. There wasn't, and I was just about to give up and order dinner in when my husband stepped up and saved the day.

He took a tray of frozen lamb, a forgotten package of udon noodles, a couple onions, a bit of negi (green onion) and some seasonings (curry powder and menstuyu noodle sauce) and created a masterpiece: Lamu-niku curry udon (curry udon noodles with lamb). I'm sure you'll never find this on a menu anywhere in the world, but it worked beautifully. Makes sense: lamb is an excellent match for any kind of curry, including mild Japanese-style curry; curry udon is a Japanese noodle shop favourite. Throw them together and you get something wonderful. So instead of eating something merely edible for dinner, as we were prepared to do, we ate something excellent.

Gnocchi with roasted pepper sauce

It only happens a few times a year, but I take full advantage when it does: sweet peppers were on sale at the supermarket yesterday! Two little ones for 98 Yen, about a quarter of the usual price. So I bought a bunch and roasted them, and tonight I turned them into a pasta sauce, with onions, bacon, garlic, chili pepper, and tomatoes, served with gnocchi. It was so good I'm kicking myself for not buying more. I don't know which is worse: paying full price for bell peppers, or having to wait several months for them to go on sale again.

If you've never tried roasted bell peppers before (or if you eat them from a jar or can), you've got to try making them. It's easy to do, and although it's a wee bit time-consuming the reward is so worth it: soft, tender peppers with the bitterness replaced by incredible sweetness and a deep, smoky flavour. Completely different from fresh peppers or roasted peppers from a jar. There are a few different methods, but this recipe shows the best way, with pictures. Once you've roasted them, eat them as is or add them to sandwiches, pasta sauce, pizza, soup, or salad.

Do try the recipe-- you'll love it. I swear to god, I'd be eating roasted peppers every day if they weren't such a luxury item here...

白菜と肉団子の春雨スープ

Hakusai to niku-dango no harusame soup (meatball soup with Chinese cabbage and rice vermicelli):

This is a Chinese-style soup with niku-dango (meatballs made of pork, green onions, garlic, ginger, chili paste, egg and sesame oil); hakusai (Chinese cabbage or napa cabbage); harusame (rice vermicelli, or clear noodles); shungiku (chrysanthemum leaves); and shiitake. Really good stuff, and the only thing (other than nabe) that I know what to make with hakusai. Would love some ideas on things to do with this vegetable, as ubiquitous as it is this season.

Update: I found a very similar recipe here. The only big difference is the meatballs: I used pork instead of beef (either would be fine, a mixture of the two would be great), and I added minced green onion and a bit of chili paste. The "bean threads" refers to rice vermicelli, which (obviously) goes by several names and could be replaced by pretty much any clear, thin noodle.

Naka-u

Japanese-style fast food at its best:

• On-tama curry: beef curry over rice topped with onsen tamago (poached egg) and fried green onions
• Kamo-oroshi udon: udon noodles in hot broth with duck breast, daikon oroshi (grated daikon radish), nameko mushrooms, and green onions
• Oyako-don: chicken and eggs (oyako means "parent and child") over rice

This was our dinner at Naka-u, a popular fast-food chain. Naka-u specializes in udon (fat wheat noodles) and donburi (rice bowls), especially oyakodon. This is the place to go for a fast, cheap, hot, and (relatively) healthy meal. And as a bonus, the food tastes great.

I love their oyako-don-- they always get it right, with super-soft chicken, perfectly cooked eggs, and just the right balance of salty and sweet. I wouldn't think of not ordering oyako-don at Naka-u, but there are always tempting seasonal items, and this time I couldn't resist the kamo-oroshi udon. The duck was wonderfully soft and tender and the broth was rich with duck flavour, without the gross slick of duck fat found on top of other shops' versions. Surprisingly, at 480 Yen this was one of the best versions of kamo nanban noodles I've ever had-- and I've had a lot. Seriously, I've paid three times as much for greasy broth and tough duck.

Naka-u is an Osaka-based company with shops all over Japan, most of which are open 24 hours. Have a look at their menu here: donburi and curries; udon; and sides.

Students and salaraymen are its main customers, but you'll find all types of people there, including a higher than usual percentage of female diners. In fact, it's pretty much the only Japanese-style fast-food place where I feel comfortable eating alone (like most women in Japan, I would rather die than enter a ramen or kaitenzushi shop by myself). But I prefer to go there with my husband, because he's a big eater and always shares. More to enjoy!

More mosaics

I had so much fun making the Favourite Food of 2006 mosaic that I've made two more: Favourite Fauna of 2006 and Favourite Flora of 2006. Click the pictures for links to each photo.

Perhaps I have a bit too much free time on my hands?

寄せ鍋

It's been too long since we've last eaten nabe (hotpot). It's the kind of meal that you have to save for when you have time, since it can easily last a few hours. So with a whole weekend to ourselves, we knew it was time for a nabe.

As usual, we couldn't decide what kind of nabe to cook, so we settled on yose-nabe (mixed nabe):

In the zaru (bamboo collander) on the left: shungiku (chrysanthemum leaves); maroni (clear noodles); negi (green onions); shiitake; thinly sliced pork. Right-hand zaru: hakusai (Chinese cabbage); gammo-doki (deep-fried tofu balls); buri (yellowtail). In front: buri sashimi.

These ingredients were all cooked little by little in a broth made of konbu dashi (kelp stock), soy sauce, sake and salt.

When each ingredient is cooked, it is plucked from the nabe and put in a bowl, along with a little bit of the stock, a splash of ponzu (a sauce made of soy sauce and sour citrus juice) and a shake of shichimi (seven-spice mix).

You might have noticed there were two kinds of buri in the first picture. The fish is in season now and we wanted to try it a few different ways. The regular, non-sashimi-grade buri was left in the nabe until well-cooked, which gave the broth a wonderful flavour and resulted in a nice soft texture for the fish.

The buri sashimi was eaten two ways: sashimi style (as-is, dipped in soy sauce); and as shabu-shabu style (swirled in the hot nabe broth until partly-cooked).

Between the three kinds of buri, I liked the shabu-shabu the best. I really enjoyed the contrast between the still-raw insides, which were soft and cool, and the cooked outside, firm and piping hot.

Using fish for shabu-shabu is something I first encountered just last year, in Wakkanai, Hokkaido. This city, at the northenmost tip of Japan, is known for its tako-shabu, which involves thinly sliced octopus that can be both eaten as sashimi and cooked shabu-shabu style. It was delicious and so was this buri, so we've decided to add sashimi to all our nabes from now on.