Blue Lotus

Oxtail ragu

Oxtail ragu with fettuccine egg noodles, a recent freezer-cleaning meal. 

I've fallen into the habit of making chicken stock every week or so, which comes in handy for hearty soups that can be made in huge batches and reheated throughout the week. With Hideaki now coming home any time from 7:30 to 10:00 (and that's earlyfor a salaryman in Tokyo) it's really nice to have something in the fridge ready to eat at any time.

At the same time I've been conducting freezer excavations in order to clear up space for future visits to the new Costco in nearby Iruma. I recently found treasure in the form of a small bag of oxtails, so the next time I made chicken stock I also made stock from the oxtails, and then put it aside until I could figure out some way to use it. And a few days later I made one of my nicest cleaning-out-the-freezer dishes ever: the oxtail ragu shown above. I didn't follow a recipe but it was quite similar to the sauce in this recipe, with a few differences as I was starting with already cooked oxtails and some very nice tail stock.

I wonder what other treasures lay buried in my freezer?

Pasta and noodles

Perhaps my favourite category of food, if it can be considered a single category, is noodles and pasta. I love carbs in all forms but noodles are just extra special-- there's something comforting about them, yet the endless ways they can be cooked makes them exciting. I could eat noodles or pasta every day for the rest of my life but with the amazing variety of both the noodles themselves and the sauces (or soups, or toppings) that accompany them, I'd never ever get bored.

Recently I have indeed been eating noodles or pasta every day, or at least almost every day. Mostly it's stuff I've blogged before (like tomato-based sauces or simple spaghetti with eggs) so I don't bother taking a picture, but here are a few I thought I'd share:

This is kamo-nanban soba (soba noodles with duck and long onions), one of my favourite soba dishes. I often order it at soba restaurants but have never made it before as duck can be hard to find and tends to be pricey. But when I saw a single duck breast on sale recently I knew it was time to make my first attempt.

The broth turned out perfectly, with a rich ducky flavour and thick slippery texture. The duck itself was less successful: although I'd sliced the breast thinly, the pieces were rather tough, so I postponed the meal until the next evening. But the long simmer and overnight sit in the fridge that usually manages to tenderize the toughest cut of meat failed to help the duck-- it went from hard and chewy to slightly less hard and stringy-- and almost flavourless to boot. But the broth, having absorbed all of the duck's flavour, was fantastic so I can't complain too much.

I was afraid something like this would happen, as when I was checking out recipes online I noticed that they all called for ai-gamo (which I believe is a kind of hybrid duck), but what I had bought was hon-gamo (true duck). So next time I'll try it with ai-gamo and see if I can't get both tasty broth and tasty duck.

A bit about the name "kamo nanban soba": kamo (or gamo when used in a compound word) means "duck", and nanban means "southern barbarian". I assumed the dish is so named because visiting barbarians (the name nanban was used for foreign traders of entering Japan from the south, especially Southeast Asians and Europeans) introduced the practice of eating duck to the Japanese, to whom meat was officially forbidden until relatively recently. But while searching for a recipe online I discovered one site that claims that negi (long onions) were called "nanba" or "nanban" in the Edo era, and a dish called nanban soba, consisting of negi and soba in hot broth, was popular.

It sounds a bit dubious, since the word "nanban" is already used to name a few dishes originally introduced or inspired by foreigners (like the escovitch-derived nanban-zuke). But then again, the two other "nanban" soba dishes, tori-nanban soba (soba with chicken) and kare-nanban soba (soba with curry broth) are chock-full of negi. So who knows. I'm probably the only one intrigued by food etymology mysteries like this anyway.

Next up is fusilli with asari clams. I believe the classic pastas for vongole sauce are linguine and spaghetti, but somehow I love it with fusilli (heck, I love any sauce with fusilli).

Clams are in season now, and while I love them enough to never tire of them, it's nice to occasionally have a break from my two favourite ways to eat them (which are the pasta above, and steamed with sake). So here is asari udon (udon noodles with asari clams). It is really just udon noodles topped with my regular steamed clams (the clams are steamed in sake, then splashed with soy sauce, a small pat of butter and finely chopped negi) with just a little more liquid than usual. But a small change makes a completely new dish, and now my clam repertoire has expanded.

Three recent dinners

OK, back to food:

A recent dinner consisted of, from bottom left: onsen tamago (egg poached in its shell); okara to kyuuri sarada (tofu lees and cucumber dressed with shiso, ponzu and olive oil); daikon no happa to kawa no itame (sauted daikon leaves and peel with soy sauce and sesame seeds); haru-kyabetsu no katsuobushi-ae (spring cabbage dressed with bonito flakes); komatsuna no nibitashi (komatsuna greens simmered in dashi and soy sauce); daikon to tebamoto no nimono (chicken drumettes and daikon braised with shiitake); mame to shirasu gohan (rice with green peas and baby sardines).

The chicken and daikon dish is delicious and economical, and I was about to share the recipe when I found a very similar one in English on the Kikkoman website. Either wings or drumettes can be used, and the kombu is optional (good additions would be whole shiitake and peeled boiled eggs).

A sale at the meat aisle inspired this man-pleasing dish: double meat curry with butter rice. The rice (Thai in this case, as long grain rice is hard to come by in Japan) is flavoured with butter and turmeric, and the curry uses both ground pork and chunks of stewing beef. It is a hybrid curry, half-way between Japanese style and western style: I start off cooking it western style, with the spices added at the beginning, and then finish it with a butter and flour roux to get the properly gloopy texture of a Japanese curry.

Curry is one of those foods that gets better with age, and this stuff kept my husband (and me) happy for half the week.

Here I tried Mark Bittman's recipe for spaghetti with fried eggs-- a fast, cheap and easy cousin of spaghetti carbonara. With a salad of spinach, cherry tomatoes, sauteed mixed mushrooms and toasted pine nuts. This was the first time I've spent longer on making salad than making pasta, but both were very good.

Mentaiko spaghetti

What to do with a large amount of poor-quality mentaiko (spicy cod roe): make mentaiko spaghetti.

I recently bought a tub of very cheap mentaiko because, well, it was very cheap. Turns out it was cheap for a reason, and now I've added mentaiko, and presumably tarako (the non-spicy version), to my list of "you get what you pay for" foods. Cheap mentaiko is artificially coloured (check out the bright red stuff on top of rice in my last post, and the pretty bubblegum hue of the pasta sauce above) and has the wrong balance of salty and spicy-- either too much or too little of either. Worst of all, it lacks the rich creaminess and oceany flavour of good roe.

So my cheap mentaiko was no good over rice, but I figured that when mixed with other ingredients, as in a pasta sauce, it would be fine. Mentaiko spaghetti is a favourite around here, and I usually just make an ultra-simple sauce of melted butter and mentaiko. This time I added the roe to a basic bechamel sauce in the hopes that the extra creaminess would cover the mentaiko's faults. It worked, and topping it with some finely shredded nori seaweed added some of the briny flavour I was missing. And I'm really glad I didn't have to throw away the mentaiko.

Still, I'm not crazy about heavy or creamy sauces, so next time I'll go back to my simple butter sauce and make sure I use good mentaiko to start with.

So what are your ideas for using up poor quality ingredients and other shopping mistakes?

Pot roast

Loin of pork pot-roasted in a tomato red wine sauce, with penne. Based on Mario Batali's Braised Pork in the Black recipe, with extra tomatoes to make a more pasta-friendly sauce. I don't know if it's the recipe, my fantastic cooking skills or the high quality of Japanese pork, but this always turns out so soft and tender. No knife was necessery, and my husband's poor teeth weren't bothered.

Penne alla vodka

A big favourite around here is penne alla vodka, a classic Italian-American pasta that combines a simple tomato cream sauce with vodka, which gives it a subtle kick. It is just lovely and would be on our table a lot more often if I wasn't so cream-phobic. But Hideaki has been requesting it lately, and since he's now sick with a cold I thought that cooking up a batch might have a therapeutic effect.

It seemed to work, although at first I thought he didn't like it. He was eating it so slowly, and when I asked why he said he was eating a single piece at a time, in order for it to last longer. Cute. I just wolfed mine down as usual.

So here is the recipe. The pancetta (or bacon if you live here in Japan where pancetta is a luxury) and red pepper flakes are optional. The cream, vodka and Parmigiano are not.

Penne alla vodka 

• 3 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
• 150 grams pancetta or bacon, thinly sliced
• 2 to 3 cloves garlic, minced
• pinch of red pepper flakes, or to taste
• 2 400 gram cans whole tomatoes, pureed
• 100 ml vodka
• 250 grams penne
• 150 ml cream
• 2 Tbsp chopped fresh parsley
• pinch of salt, or to taste
• 4 Tbsp grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, plus more for garnish

Heat the olive oil in a large heavy pan, add the pancetta and cook on medium-low heat until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Remove half of pancetta for garnish.

Add the garlic and red pepper flakes to the pan and saute for 2 minutes over low heat. Carefully pour in the pureed tomatoes and salt to taste, stir and increase the heat to medium. Bring to a boil, add the vodka and let simmer for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, cook the penne in a large pot of salted water. Drain when al dente. Add the cream to the sauce and mix in well, then add the penne and parsley. Bring to a boil and cook over medium-high heat about 5 minutes, or until the sauce is reduced and clings to the pasta. Stir in the Parmigiano and taste sauce, adding salt if necessary.

Spoon onto plates and top with the reserved pancetta and a sprinkle of Parmigiano.

Serves 2 to 3 

Spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce

• Salad of shrimp, broccoli, sweet peppers and edamame dressed in a dressing of ponzu (citrus soy sauce), olive oil, black pepper and sesame seeds
• Crusty bread with extra virgin olive oil
• Spaghetti in fresh tomato sauce with katsuobushi and shiso

The sauce is part of my ongoing experiments with fresh tomatoes, which started here. This time I tried to add a Japanese twist, adding some katsuobushi (dried bonito flakes) leftover from the yakisoba my husband had cooked the day before. I figured the katsuobushi would add a bit of umami as well as a nice smoky flavour, and it did. I liked it so much that I added another pack, and decided to continue the Japanese theme by adding some thinly sliced shiso (perilla, a unique Japanese herb). The shiso didn't add much to the dish at all though, so I think I'll have to try this again with basil. And maybe mozzarella. Expect a recipe soon!

The great tomato sauce cook-off

Inspired by a TV show we saw on Wednesday (NHK's Tameshite Gatten), I conducted a bit of an experiment in the kitchen yesterday. The show was about tomatoes, specifically Japanese tomatoes, and how to cook a good tomato sauce with them. Not a rich meat sauce or arrabiata, but a simple fresh sauce, the kind that is popular in the summer, loved by the Japanese, and very hard to recreate at home. Unlike the restaurant version, the home-cooked version tends to be watery and to lack flavour.

I paid attention from the beginning, since I've always complained about the tomatoes here, much to the surprise of most Japanese: people here are very proud of their toms, especially the momotaro variety. They love the sweetness of these tomatoes, but I find the flavour bland and un-tomatoey, the pinkish colour unappetizing, the texture mealy, and the quality unreliable. Even during peak tomato season there are still duds. Whenever the subject of Japanese tomatoes comes up with my students (more often than you'd think, since food is a perennial favourite topic), you'd think we were each talking about a completely different vegetable. (Or fruit. Depends on your classification system).

Turns out we kind of were. According to the TV show we saw, the typical supermarket Japanese tomato is grown in a greenhouse and picked while still green, which could explain not only the mealiness and blandness, but the fact that they never seem to come into season. What my students are probably talking about is the home-grown version, or the expensive kind that have to be ordered privately (nearly all of my female students are gardeners, and many get their produce delivered from private food co-ops). Roma tomatoes, however, are usually vine-ripened, and although this doesn't necessarily affect the sugar content (tomatoes will continue to ripen and sweeten on the shelf) it does affect the glutamic acid content. Both types of tomatoes were measured, and the vine-ripened romas had a far higher level of the stuff. Which may mean nothing to you, but glutamic acid produces the savoury flavour compound called umami, one of the five basic tastes. Think of it as nature's MSG.

Still, this show claimed to have found a technique to produce a good sauce with typical shelf-ripened Japanese tomatoes. Skeptical, I headed to the supermarket yesterday morning to find tomatoes for a taste test.

Here I should mention that the variety of tomatoes in Japan has improved a bit recently: years ago the only choices were the pink Japanese tomatoes and cherry tomatoes (called mini-tomato). Now you can buy midi-tomato, which are a bit bigger than cherries but taste the same; fruit-tomato, which are extra sweet and very good to eat raw; and roma tomatoes, which are usually called ryouri-yo-tomato or italian-tomato. The selection is still nowhere near as good as back home, but I was confident I would be able to find what I needed.

And I was able to find roma tomatoes. But strangely there were no regular Japanese tomatoes at all. Or perhaps not so strange at all: foods often sell out after being mentioned on health or cooking shows. What I bought instead was koutoudo-tomato (high sugar-content tomatoes), which seemed to be a special variety of momotaro, and were also likely vine-ripened. Both were domestically grown, a bit more expensive than regular tomatoes (and tomatoes are already very pricey here), and were in good condition, although the Japanese tomatoes seemed a bit fresher.

When I got home, I tried both of them raw. The roma was bitter and yucky, which I expected as it's not meant to be eaten raw, and the Japanese tomato was delicious: amazingly sweet and juicy and I was tempted to cancel the sauce cook-off and just make a salad. I finally understood what my students are talking about. This is a tomato that the Japanese can be proud of.

It seemed a little unfair to use these special tomatoes against the romas, but I went ahead anyway. The picture above shows the sauces being made: the Japanese tomatoes on the left, and the roma sauce on the right (the seeds and liquid that were removed are in the bowl at top right, and you can see how omitting them makes much less sauce).

With the romas, I followed the regular technique for a simple fresh tomato sauce: I peeled them, removed their stems, cut them in half and scooped out the seeds and liquid with a spoon. Then I pureed them in a blender and simmered them in a pan for a few minutes, until the sauce was reduced with there was no separation of water and sauce.

The Japanese tomatoes, however, weren't peeled or seeded. Normally the seeds and skin are removed for two reasons: they are bitter and hard, and they make the sauce too watery or cause the sauce to separate. But the show explained that, contrary to popular belief, the seeds don't really contain more water than the flesh (this was measured, with the flesh consisting of 94% water and the seeds 95%, a very small difference indeed). Not only that, but the skin of the Japanese tomato is thinner and softer than other varieties, with the skin and seeds being just as tasty as the flesh (the featured chef even said the seeds were the tastiest part of the tomato). Finally, the skin and seeds contain pectin, which if you've ever made jam you'll know is a gelling agent and would therefore help thicken the sauce and keep it together.

So I simply removed the stem and pureed them, and simmered the sauce in a pan. The show recommended 20 minutes, but it was thick enough in 15 and I thought any more cooking would ruin the fresh flavour.

Both sauces were finished with a pinch of salt and splash of good-quality extra virgin olive oil, with freshly cooked spaghetti added to the pan and mixed up to distribute the sauce evenly.

This is the sauce made from roma tomatoes.

And here is the sauce with the Japanese tomatoes. Although my presentation skills leave much to be desired, you can see that the two sauces look quite similar.

But they couldn't have tasted more different. On the first try, I vastly preferred the Japanese tomatoes. The sweetness was immediately appealing, and it was balanced with a sharp acidity, which I hadn't noticed at all when I tried them raw. The roma sauce didn't have the same big impact, and seemed a bit dull by comparison at first. But after a few more bites, I noticed that what the roma sauce lacked in aggressive sweetness and acidity was made up for by its tomato taste: that summery, viney, slightly bitter flavour that conjured up memories of sitting in the garden on a sunny late-summer day and biting into a just-picked tomato. (Never mind that I don't actually have such memories, since I used to hate raw tomatoes and always shunned the lovely ones my Dad grew. This fake memory just goes to show you how tomatoey this sauce tasted.) And after a few more bites, I noticed this sauce also had a certain hard-to-describe depth of flavour, which must have been the umami from the glutamic acid.

The Japanese tomato sauce I liked less and less. Its initially pleasant sweet and tart flavours intensified until it started to taste like ketchup, with little depth or true tomato flavour.

By themselves, I think both sauces would have been excellent, but trying them together sharply highlighted each sauces strengths and weaknesses. The main drawback to the roma sauce was a slight mushy, mealy texture. This could be due to the quality of the tomatoes, so I'd like to try it again with really good romas. And my tendency to use too much sauce probably contributed to the ketchupy flavours I found with the Japanese tomatoes, and a better sauce/pasta ratio would likely help a lot. So would using regular Japanese tomatoes, which probably have enough sugar already-- the high-sugar variety was likely overkill.

So overall, both Hideaki and I preferred the roma sauce, but also really liked the Japanese tomato sauce. For now I'll make fresh tomato sauce with Japanese tomatoes, unless I can find good romas. And I want to do several more experiments: I still want to try it with regular Japanese tomatoes, not the high-sugar kind. I want to see what happens if I use whole roma tomatoes, without removing the skin and seeds. I want to compare fresh romas to canned. And I want to try mixing romas and Japanese tomatoes, to get a sauce that hopefully highlights the best of both types: sweet, tart, and full of umami and tomato flavour.

Spaghetti alla carbonara con fave

Spaghetti carbonara with fresh fava beans.

This is my usual creamless recipe, with fava beans added to the pasta during the last few minutes of boiling. Soramame (what favas are called in Japan) season is nearly over here so I'm enjoying them while they last. Last year I ran out of ideas and kind of got sick of soramame, but after recently discovering how good they are with pasta I don't think there's any danger of fava bean burn out.

Pasta primavera

Pasta primavera (spring pasta) with fresh green peas, snow peas, asparagus and fava beans, and topped with parsley, toasted pine nuts and Parmigiano. Made with pink and white bunny shaped pasta, this was just a few days too late for Easter, but that's OK. This was a fantastic dish no matter what day it is, and I'll be sure to try it again.

This is the first time I've done pasta primavera. I've always been a bit confused by this popular pasta, since it is supposed to be made with spring vegetables but is always full of stuff like zucchini, tomatoes and broccoli. Those are definitely not spring vegetables, and since I'm not a zucchini fan I've never bothered with the dish.

Then I found this cute pasta and when trying to think of a good sauce to go with it, pasta primavera was all I could come up with. So I figured that since the markets are full of beautiful spring produce, I'd do an all-spring version. Shucking the peas and fava beans was a bit of a chore, and parboiling and cooling everything separately was a wee pain in the butt, but it was so worth it. It turned out so well that I have no idea at all why anyone would ever consider adding zucchini to it. Unless it was summer and the garden was overflowing with the stuff, but then why call it "pasta primavera"?

See what I mean about confusing? And I haven't even mentioned the pine nut dilemma (I mean, what season are pine nuts anyway?).

Cod meuniere and pasta with sausage and tomato sauce

Baby leaf salad and cod meuniere with fresh fava beans.

Meuniere is usually made with sole, but any lean white-fleshed fish can be used. And although parsley is normally used, my local supermarket was all out so I used banno-negi (very thin green onions). I was actually pretty good, but I'll be sticking to parsley next time. This is an extremely easy and simple dish that, providing you use the very freshest fish, always turns out great.

The recipe can be found below.

Caserecce with sausage and tomato sauce. Normally I use penne or fusilli with this sauce, but I recently found an interesting pasta and decided to use it instead. It is a long version of caserecce, which is a short pasta rolled up into an S-shape and said to resemble little scrolls. The little folds hold sauce well, but the long version is very tricky to eat. Every had bucatini? This was very similar. It's just too stiff to stay rolled around the fork, and will start to unravel between the plate and your mouth, resulting in a big mess. I don't think I'll be using this pasta again (or if I am, I'll wear a bib), but I think regular caserecce would be good with this sauce.

In the recipe at the bottom of the page, I've left the pasta up to you.

Sole Meuniere

The sole can be substituted with any mild whitefish.

• 4 sole fillets
• salt and freshly ground black pepper
• all purpose flour for dredging
• 2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
• 4 Tbsp unsalted butter
• 1 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 2 Tbsp chopped parsley

Sprinkle the fish with salt and pepper on each side, lightly dredge with flour. Heat the olive oil in a large pan over high heat and saute the sole, turning once, 2 to 3 minutes per side. Transfer fish to a warm plates and keep covered while sauce finishes.

Pour off any excess fat from the pan, add the butter and cook over low heat until it just starts to turn brown and gives off a nutty, popcorn-like aroma, about 3 minutes. Immediately turn off the heat, add the lemon juice and stir. Add the parsley and pour the sauce over the fish; serve immediately.

Pasta with sausage and tomato sauce

This recipe is based on what's available to me here in Tokyo, but is highly adaptable. If you can find it, use hot sausage instead of sweet, or use both. A pinch of dried chili flakes will work well in place of the whole peppers. Red wine is fine, especially with hot sausage. And a thinly sliced sweet pepper is a nice addition; add it with the garlic and peppers.

Penne is a good match for this sauce, but any hearty pasta will do.

• 2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
• 450 gr (1 lb) sweet Italian sausage, removed from casings
• 1 large onion, chopped
• 3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
• 2 dried chili peppers, sliced lengthwise
• 250 ml (1 cup) dry white wine
• 2 small cans (400 gr/14 oz each) whole tomatoes
• salt to taste
• 450 grams (1 pound) of pasta
• a few sprigs of basil, thinly sliced
• grated Parmiggiano Reggiano to taste

Heat the oil in a large heavy pan over high heat, add sausage meat and saute, breaking up the sausage with a wooden spoon, until meat is browned, about 5 minutes. Remove sausage to a bowl using a slotted spoon, keeping the fat in the pan, and add the onion. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring often, until onion is soft, about 10 minutes minutes.

Add the peppers and garlic, cook for another 5 minutes. Add wine and sausage, and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium and simmer, stirring often, until liquid is reduced by half, about 5 minutes. Add tomatoes with their juices and simmer, using the wooden spoon to break up the tomatoes sauce is slightly thickened, about 10 minutes. Taste and add salt as desired.

Meanwhile, boil pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until al dente. Drain and add to pan with the sauce with the basil (saving some to use as a garnish), mix well. Serve garnished with basil and Parmiggiano, with more cheese at the table.

Linguine con polpo

Linguine con polpo (linguine with octopus).

This was a very quick pasta, made by sauteing garlic, a dried chili and thinly sliced octopus in olive oil, adding a splash of dry white wine and simmering briefly, then mixing in linguine. Topped with grated Parmigiano, this was a simple but delicious treat.

Some fresh parsley would have really perked it up, but alas here in Japan fresh octopus is far easier to buy than fresh herbs.

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.

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...

Pasta two ways

My first real cooking of the year was this pasta: trofiette (a twisted shape that looks homemade but in this case isn't) with a spicy tomato-bacon sauce.

The next day the leftover sauce was doctored up with onions, garlic, and anchovies. The topping was not cheese, but a crunchy mix of breadcrumbs and sliced almonds, toasted and flavoured with olive oil and anchovies. Delicious. It takes a while to toast the almonds and breadcrumbs, but the effort is totally worth it. I can't think of a better thing to do with leftover tomato sauce.

Here are both recipes. They are highly adaptable, so substitute at will and feel free to use more or less of anything. They will make 2 to 3 servings each, and you will probably still have a little tomato sauce leftover. (Maybe I should add a third day recipe?)

First day: troffiete in a spicy tomato-bacon sauce

This is based on arrabbiata, a simple but fiery sauce classically paired with penne. You can use any kind of pasta, but I prefer short, textured pastas that hold the sauce well. I recommend canned whole tomatoes, as the quality is usually better than diced. The tomatoes can be crushed in the pan with a wooden spoon, but if you don't want to be bothered you can substitute diced or crushed tomatoes.

2 tablespoons olive oil
200 grams (7 oz) pancetta or bacon, sliced
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
125 ml (1/2 cup) dry white wine, optional
2 dried red chilies, sliced lengthwise (or 1/2 tsp crushed chilies)
2 400 ml (14 oz) cans whole tomatoes
Salt to taste
Fresh basil, sliced (optional)

225 grams (1/2 pound) trofiette, penne or other pasta
Grated Parmigginano cheese for the table

In a large heavy pan, heat oil over medium heat and saute bacon until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Add onion, reduce heat to medium-low and saute until soft, 10 to 15 minutes. Add garlic and chilies, cook a minute or so, until fragrant.

Add the wine, increase heat to medium-high and simmer about 5 minutes until reduced. Add tomatoes and their liquid, breaking the them against the side of the pan with wooden spoon. Simmer uncovered, stirring often, until sauce is thickened, about  10 to 20 minutes. Season to taste and stir in basil, if using.

Meanwhile, cook pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water until al dente (tender but firm to the bite). Drain, toss with half of the sauce in a large bowl, and serve with cheese at the table.

Second day: farfelle with anchovy tomato sauce

This is based on Mario Batali's St. John's Eve Pasta, from his Molto Italiano cookbook. It's a very anchovy-intensive dish, so feel free to reduce the amount of anchovies for a more subtle flavour. If you'd rather not deal with whole anchovies, you can substitute anchovy paste. The original recipe recommends lasagnette or pappardelle, which are flat, frilly pastas. I prefer panko (Japanese breadcrumbs, available at Japanese or Asian markets), but you can substitute fresh breadcrumbs, or make your own by shredding bread with a mixer or blender.

80 ml (1/3 cup) sliced blanched almonds
250 ml (1 cup) panko
5 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
4 salt-packed anchovies, filleted, rinsed, and chopped
Freshly ground black pepper
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
180 ml (3/4 cup) leftover tomato sauce
Fresh basil, sliced (optional)

225 grams (1/2 pound) farfalle or other pasta

Toast the almonds in a heavy pan over low heat, stirring often and being careful not to burn, until a light golden brown. Remove to bowl. Toast panko the same way, add to bowl with almonds.

Wipe the pan and heat 2 Tbsp of the olive oil over medium-low heat, add anchovies and crush with wooden spoon until smooth, add black pepper to taste. Drizzle over the toasted almonds and panko, tossing to mix evenly.

Heat the remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil in the pan over medium-low heat, add the onion, saute until soft. Add the garlic and remaining 2 anchovies, cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the tomato sauce, increase heat to medium and bring to a simmer. Cook until the sauce is thickened and reduced by about one-third. Add the basil, if using.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water. Drain, toss with sauce in pan, spoon onto plates. Top with the almond-breadcrumb mixture.

11/28 Dinner: Spaghettini alla carbonara

Broccoli sauteed with garlic and parsley, tofu salad (not shown), and spaghettini carbonara (thin spaghetti with bacon, onions, egg and Parmigiano cheese).

This is a creamless version I learnt when I worked in an Italian cafe/restaurant in Vancouver. I was taught to return the drained pasta to the still-hot pan of pancetta (Italian bacon) and onions, pour the egg and cheese mixture in and mix it all up until the eggs were fully cooked. I suppose this was due to salmonella fears, but I really like the way it's done in Japan, with the eggs still runny (the eggs are safer here).

So that's what I tried to do tonight. I mixed everything up in a big bowl, and while the eggs stayed nice and runny it was luke-warm by the time it was on the plate. I want it hot! I'm going to have to experiment a bit to find a way to keep it hot without fully cooking the eggs. Anyone have any tips? Hopefully that don't involve adding cream?