A Fish Out of Water

Tsumami

On Sunday Hideaki and I went to a local cherry blossom festival, which suffered from a lack of actual cherry blossoms; this spring has been cold in Tokyo and most sakura are blooming late. The festival wasn't a complete bust though: they were giving away sake, and we won a bottle!

This is the same sake we bought last year, called Oizumi and made from local spring water. We quite liked it and I was a bit bummed that I wouldn't be able to afford a bottle this year, so we were thrilled to win it.

When you drink in Japan, especially sake, it is mandatory to serve tsumami (drinking snacks). Also called otsumami (and for that matter, sake is also called osake; the "o" is an honorific), these snacks are flavoured more strongly than regular food and tend to be served in small amounts, and are eaten slowly while enjoying the alcohol. Some tsumami, like nuts, are good with nearly any type of alcohol but most are thought to go with a specific type, like edamame (green soybeans) with beer or cheese with wine. For sake seafood is big: think shiokara (fermented squid) or grilled himono (dried salted fish).

The two tsumami shown above are typical. On the right is hiyashi tomato, which literally means "cold tomato" and has a thousand variations; this one is drizzled with fragrant sesame oil and ponzu (citrus soy sauce) and sprinkled with crushed sesame seeds and black pepper. On the left is maguro no tsukudani (tuna simmered in soy sauce), and is one of the best examples yet of my recent drive to save money by using up all the excess food that's taken over my kitchen.

I've had frozen tuna in my freezer since last year, a gift from my sister-in-law from a trip to Miura Hanto (the Miura Peninsula in Kanagawa, famed for its tuna). We ate it at first as sashimi and it was delicious, but there was such a large amount we had to freeze most of it, and not knowing what to do with frozen raw tuna I kind of left it in there until I forgot about it. When I noticed it again recently I was relieved to see it had no freezer burn, and when I won the sake I knew I'd finally found a use for the tuna. It turned out so good that I wish I had a freezer full of frozen fish! If you'd like to try making it yourself, read on: the recipe is at the bottom of the post.

This picture probably looks odd to most Japanese people, since you're not supposed to drink alcohol--especially sake--with rice. Apparently tsumami are just snacks and once you have your real meal (which in Japan always includes rice) you have to stop drinking, since sake is made of rice and you wouldn't serve two kinds of rice with a meal, would you? Or something like that. But the fact is that most tsumami are also really good with rice, and since we really liked the sake we included the tsumami with our dinner and kept on drinking.

From left, maguro no tsukudani, hiyashi tomato, asazuke (quick pickles) of cabbage and cucumber, hiyayakko (cold tofu topped with soy sauce and bonito flakes) and gobo to toriniku no takikomigohan (rice cooked with chicken and burdock, also from the freezer).

And now for the recipe. First I should note that if you should not use really good fresh fish: save the good stuff for sashimi and use either non-sashimi grade fish or sashimi grade fish that is too old to serve raw. It also doesn't have to be tuna: buri (yellowtail), kajiki (swordfish) and other firm fleshed fish can be used as well. Finally, you could simmer daikon, negi (long onions) or other vegetables with it; I will definitely use both next time. Oops, one more thing: the flavourings are highly adjustable: eliminate the water to make the flavour stronger, add more water to make it weaker, and add more or less sugar to your liking. Taste as you go and adjust as you like.

Maguro no Tsukudani (Tuna simmered in soy sauce)

450 grams (1 pound) of tuna, in blocks
1 knob fresh ginger
120 ml (1/2 cup) sake
120 ml (1/2 cup) soy sauce
75 ml (1/3 cup) water
2 Tbsp mirin (sweet cooking sake)
2 Tbsp sugar

Cut the tuna into bite-sized pieces. If it is getting a little old put it in a sieve and pour boiling water over it and let drain. Peel the ginger with the back of a knife and slice thinly.

Add the sake, soy sauce, water, mirin and sugar to a pot and cook over medium heat until the sugar has dissolved. Turn the heat to low, add the tuna and bring to a simmer, then half cover with a lid and let simmer, stirring carefully once or twice and making sure liquid doesn't evaporate. Cook 30 minutes to 1 hour or more; the tuna is ready when it is infused with flavour and softened slightly. If excess liquid remains you might like to remove the tuna to a bowl and simmer the liquid on medium until reduced to your liking, then return the tuna to the pot and stir to coat with the sauce.

Serve hot or room temperature with sake. Will keep several days in the fridge (and will actually get softer after a day or two, so try not to eat it all at once).

梅酒 Umeshu

The tsuyu (the rainy season) is well underway in Japan, but don't despair: even monsoon clouds have silver linings, and with the rainy season comes ume. Ume (Japanese apricot*) is so strongly associated with the season that that the word tsuyu literally means "ume rain": 梅雨. And the best thing to do with ume is to make umeshu (ume liqueur*). Sure, it won't actually be ready for a year, but the preparations are a great indoor activity that will keep your mind off the downpour outside, and when the rainy season starts again next year you'll have something to cheer you up.

Each year before the rain begins every supermarket in the land puts up a special display piled with bags of green ume, large glass jars, cartons of alcohol, and bags of rock sugar. This is for umeshu, and it seems like every housewife in the country makes it. Those grocery store displays stay put for a month or two, with the green ume being replaced with yellow and red varieties and with additions like salt, akajiso (red perilla) and giant bamboo sieves. These are for making umeboshi (salt-pickled ume, or pickled plums). Umeboshi is a bit fiddly to make so I've never attempted it, but there's nothing easier than making liqueur. Anyone can do it, so if you live in Japan (or have access to ume) and have half a day free in the next week or so, now is the time to give it a try. But hurry--the umeshu making season is nearly over, and the green ume will soon disappear from the stores.

Umeshu, like all basic fruit liqueurs, has just three ingredients: ume, sugar, and alcohol. The following are the amounts used for the standard recipe, with their Japanese names (sorry to those of you who can't view Japanese characters):

1 kilogram ume

青梅 (ao-ume: literally "blue ume", this is unripened ume) is used for umeshu. Choose bright green fruit free of blemishes (ripening fruit is splotched with yellow and red and is used for umeboshi). The tiny 小梅 (ko-ume: small ume) can also be used, but are said to be slightly more astringent and sour. Buy the ume just before making your umeshu, as it doesn't keep very well. Note that unprocessed ume is mildly toxic, so don't be tempted to have a taste!

1 kilogram sugar

氷砂糖 (Koori-zatou: literally "ice sugar", this is rock sugar) is most often used, but any kind of sugar works. Koori-zatou is conveniently sold in bags weighing 1 kilogram, the amount most often used, but you can use anywhere from 500 grams to 1500 grams depending on how sweet you'd like your liqueur to be--if you're not sure it's better to go with less sugar as more can always be added later, while there's not much you can do to fix an overly sweet liqueur. Note that the less sugar used, the longer the umeshu will take, as sugar helps extract the flavour from the ume. Honey (蜂蜜 or はちみつ) can replace all or some of the sugar: use 2 cups of honey or 1 cup of honey with 500 grams of sugar. The umeshu will take longer this way, and for the first few weeks the jar will need to be turned frequently to help dissolve the honey.

1800 millilitres of alcohol

ホワイトリカー (Howaito rikaa: white liquor) is most often used. It is a clear 35 proof alcohol, similar to shochu, sold in 1.8 litre cartons. It tends to be a bit harsh, but the sugar and ume flavour will mellow that out after time. If you plan on using less than the standard amount of sugar, or if you'd like to drink your ume quickly, you might want to use a good-quality vodka instead. Brandy is also popular, producing a mellower, sweeter and more fragrant liqueur. Good brandy can be used, but Suntory produces a cheap version conveniently sold in a 1.8 litre carton labeled 果実の酒用 (kajitsu no sake you: for fruit liqueurs).

You'll also need:

A large jar with a tight-fitting lid

Jars specially made for liqueur are commonly available in Japan. Made with thick glass,  they have a wide opening and a double lid with a handle (smaller sizes have the handle on the side of the jar itself). The jars come in various sizes, with the 4 litre type being used for the standard umeshu recipe (I used a 2.2 litre jar as I made a slightly smaller than usual batch).

Clean towels

Bamboo skewers or wooden toothpicks

A large colander

Space in a cool, dry place for the next year or so

 

Here I have 1 kilogram of ao-ume, a 2.2 litre jar, 1.8 litres kajitsu no sake you brandy, 1 kilogram koori-zatou. I started a bit late and the only ume I could find were a bit old, so I had to throw several out. So I only used about 1 litre of the brandy and 500 grams of sugar--basically all that could fit in the jar. Because it has a higher ume-to-alcohol ratio it will take a bit longer than usual, and if it turns out too strong I may dilute it with a little more brandy. Anyway, the point is that the exact amounts are not terribly important, and as long as the fruit is completely covered by the alcohol you'll be fine.

The jar, sugar and sake will come with a recipe for umeshu. The jars usually have the most comprehensive instructions, and this one has recipes for several types of liqueurs, along with a seasonal guide. It recommends mikan (clementines) in January and February, strawberries in March, sakurambo (white cherries) in May, garlic and ume in June, peaches in July, shiso (perilla) in August, apples in September, yuzu (citron) in late October and early November, and karin and kinkan (quince and kumquat) in November and December. Year-round liqueurs can be made with lemons, grapefruits, shiitake, pineapple, coffee beans, and kiwi; elsewhere on the label is a recipe for aloe liqueur (the garlic, shiso, shiitake, and aloe liqueurs are used for health tonics--I've never tried any odd ones like that and hope I never have to). These are just a few ideas, and virtually any fruit--or combination of fruit--can be used for liqueur, with fragrant and strongly-flavoured being the best choices. Keep in mind that fruit that starts out sweet and edible will require less sugar than ume, and will be ready faster. Check the web for fruit-specific recipes--there are a lot of liqueur makers out there, not just in Japan but all over the world. For starters, here's my strawberry liqueur recipe from a few years back.

So let's begin. The first thing to do is wash the jar and lids with hot water and soap (if you're using heat-resistant glass you can sterilize the jar with boiling water, but the type of jar sold for liqueur making in Japan is not heat safe so cannot be sterilized this way). After washing, you may like to use a little of your alcohol to rinse the inside of the bottle and the inner lid. Allow to air-dry.

Next, wash your ume. Just water is fine, but unless you're using organic ume there will be traces of pesticides, so use soap or a vinegar solution if you like--just make sure to rinse well afterwards. Drain in a large colander, then lay the ume in a single layer on some towels and allow to air-dry. This may take a few hours so start early, and don't be tempted to go to the next step while the ume are still wet--water can make the ume go moldy, even when steeping in alcohol.

 

When the ume are completely dry, use a toothpick or bamboo skewer to remove the stems from the ume. Not all of them will have a nice big stem like the one below, but however small the stem remnants are, they must be removed.

 

While you are removing the stems, inspect the fruit and discard any that are cut, overly bruised, or moldy. Don't worry about minor blemishes. My ume were a little less than fresh, so a few of them were starting to get moldy at the stem like the one below, and a few more were heavily bruised. Those ones didn't make the cut.

 

Next, use a new toothpick or bamboo skewer to prick holes in the ume. This step is not vital and many recipes omit it, but it will help make things go a little faster.

 

Each ume gets two or three holes and goes directly into the jar. After about a third of the ume are in the jar, cover them with about a third to half of the sugar.

 

Continue pricking the ume and adding them to the jar, layering it with the sugar as shown until you've used all of the ume and sugar. This layering is not really necessary, and in fact all the sugar will be at the bottom and the ume will be floating at the top after a day or two. But most instructions say to do this, and it looks cool, so I keep doing it.

 

When you've used all of your ume (or when the jar is full) pour in your alcohol. If you're using the standard recipe with a 4 litre jar you'll use up the full carton of white liquor, with a bit of room leftover.

 

If you're using a smaller jar and can't fit in the entire carton of alcohol, don't worry--just make sure the ume are completely covered by the alcohol, as shown above.

And you're nearly done. Take a look and enjoy how pretty it is, because it won't last: the ume will quickly lose its green colouring and will turn wrinkly and yellowish.

 

Cover with jar with the inner lid, making sure it is tightly sealed and the spout and air hole are covered. Seal with the outer lid, and don't forget the to label the jar.

 

Liqueur jars come with labels. This one has space for ingredients, alcohol type, date the liqueur was made, and date it will be ready for drinking. This label uses the Japanese way of writing dates and this is what I entered: 20th year of Heisei, 6th month, 9th day (June 9th, 2008). I'm guessing the liqueur will be ready for tasting in September, but I think I'll let it steep for a full year.  

Put the jar in a closet, cupboard or other dark place in the coolest room of your house (if you have a yuka-shita, or under-floor storage space, keep it there). Every few weeks shake the jar a little to help dissolve and disperse the sugar.

This is the liqueur after just one day. The sugar has already fallen to the bottom and is starting to dissolve.

In two to three months the umeshu will be drinkable, but you'll want to leave the ume in for longer than that: six months is standard but you can take them out after anywhere from four and a half months to a year. There are two ways to remove the ume: if you'd like to keep the umeshu in its original jar, use a clean and dry ladle or pair of tongs to fish the ume directly out of the jar. But you may want to use the jar for a new batch of liqueur, so set a large funnel inside of a clean, dry bottle, set a colander inside the funnel, and carefully pour  the umeshu into the bottle.

The spent ume are soft, wrinkly and completely delicious. Keep them in the fridge or freezer and eat as-is; plop one or two into a glass of umeshu or umeshu-based cocktail as a kind of edible garnish; simmered to further soften them and burn off the alcohol and then used as a topping for ice cream or yogurt; chopped up and made into jelly or jam; or cooked with nizakana (simmered fish), as the the flavour helps cut fishiness. I am not very creative with my used ume and always end up throwing most of them out because I need the fridge space, but apparently a clever housewife can find endless uses for them. Warning: they have a lot more alcohol than they seem to, so try to limit yourself to a few at a time!

As for the liqueur itself, it doesn't need to be refrigerated, but you may want to pour some into a small bottle to keep in the fridge so you always have some nice cold stuff on hand. Otherwise, keep it where you keep your liquor--preferably in a cool, dark and dry cabinet. It will continue to improve as it ages and will keep for a very long time, but after a decade or so will start to darken and take on bitter notes. I've drunk umeshu that is older than I am, and it was nearly black and had strong nutty and bitter flavours. I didn't find it very pleasant, but some people really like old umeshu.

Umeshu can be drunk as-is, and is apparently great in cocktails, but I like it with club soda so much I've never experimented with it. In Japan these are the most popular ways to drink it:

Umeshu rokku (on the rocks): with ice

Umeshu soda (umeshu soda): one part liqueur to two parts club soda, with ice

Umeshu tonikku (umeshu tonic): one part liqueur to two parts club tonic, with ice

Umeshu no oyuwari (umeshu with hot water): one part liqueur to two parts very hot water; this is often taken before bed or as a health tonic

So that's it for umeshu instructions. If anyone has any tips, umeshu cocktail recipes, ideas for using up the used ume, or anything else to add, please leave a comment.

* Note about translations: I have a pet peeve about poorly translated Japanese words and especially hate seeing the words "ume" and "umeshu" translated incorrectly. Ume is sometimes mistakenly called "plum", but is actually the fruit of Prunus mume, commonly known as "Japanese apricot" (what we know as plums are called sumomo or prune in Japanese). Umeshu is often incorectly translated as "plum wine", but it's neither wine nor made with plums. Just call it "ume liqueur" or "umeshu", damn it!

Still blooming

The cherry blossom season is remarkably long this year, and although I was stuck at home with a cold while the blooms were at their peak there were still a few left to see when I recovered. Sadly my camera is acting up, yet again: it won't focus in regular (non-macro) pictures, with the middle of the frame especially blurry as you can see above. My lens is clean and the camera continues to work fine for close-ups, so I'm not sure what's going on. I guess I'll have to send it in for more repairs. Or is it finally time to buy a new camera?

Many of the cherry trees at our local park are not regular somei yoshino (the most widely planted variety of sakura), but a fruit-bearing type that bloom a little bit later and produce tart little wild cherries in June. They have more colour than somei yoshino and also have a bit of a fragrance, but because they bloom at the same time as their leaves sprout they are a wee bit less impressive. Still, a cherry blossom is a cherry blossom, and a park full of these is plenty beautiful.

But even though the sakura are almost gone doesn't mean they can't be celebrated. This is Japan, and there's always something to buy. This sake is produced by a local merchant's association just for this season and is called "Ooizumi", which is the same name as our neighborhood but switches the kanji around-- the first character is replaced by the kanji for "sakura".

I think it is brewed elsewhere but the bottle says it's made with local underground spring water. It's good to know that we actually have underground springwater here, because I've always wondered why our neighborhood was called what it was: Ooizumigakuen means something like "university campus of the big spring". And yet there are no universities here and I've never seen a spring, big or little. But in advertisements for this sake I've found out that the Shirakogawa, a local stream, has underground sources. So now half of the mystery is solved, and maybe someday I'll find out where the secret university is hidden.

I bought this sakura anpan at a local bakery. Anpan is a popular snack consisting of a bun filled with anko (sweet red bean paste); this sakura version is topped with a preserved cherry blossom.

Inside, instead of the regular dark red anko it stuffed with shiro-an (white bean paste) mixed with preserved cherry blossoms. The blossoms turn the shiro-an a lovely shade of pink and add a pleasant salty floral flavour.

And of course, the traditional two-toed cherry blossom viewing socks. Actually, I think those are ume (Japanese apricot blossoms), but close enough.

So there you have it. There is not a single holiday or seasonal event in Japan that doesn't involve commercial products for sale, so if you happen to miss the cherry blossoms themselves, don't worry. There's still plenty of stuff to buy.

Pomegranates

These lovely pomegranates, called zakuro in Japanese, were a gift from a student of mine. Many of my students have gardens with fruit trees and it's not uncommon for them to share their bounty with me and their fellow students. I've received persimmons, sudachi (a tiny lime-like citrus fruit), mandarins and various other types of orange, all of which are received gladly by everyone. But this is the first time a student has shared pomegranates, and somehow the other students seemed far less enthusiastic than I was. I think the pomegranate fad never made it to Japan, where they grow widely but are not well appreciated due to their tartness. In Japan, the sweeter the fruit the better, and with so many options people don't tend to bother with the sour stuff. I think the general consesus was that these zakuro would make lovely seasonal decorations but they weren't fit for eating. The lady who gave them away even seemed a bit apologetic, saying they were just going to be thrown out otherwise.

But I was just thrilled to be given these, and for free-- I'd have to pay at least $5 per piece (assuming I could even find them). Not only is it a delicious fruit, but it's incredibly beautiful. And I love the way it takes me back to my childhood: I have vivid memories of eating them when I was little, how I'd grow frustrated at all the work involved just to get a small amount of flesh, but never be able to stop myself. Strangely, it was one of the few exotic fruits (exotic by Canadian standards, anyway) I remember eating as a child-- I didn't taste mangoes, papaya, starfruit and the like until I was far older.

Japanese pomegranates seem to have browner skins and paler seeds than the ones I'm used to, and are a bit more sour than I remember. They take the same amount of work to eat though, and after eating half a pomegranate's seeds I realized I didn't have to patience to continue. So I made pomegranate juice.

This is what I got from one and a half pomegranates. The top is pink and foamy because my juicer is part of my Magic Bullet mixer and I can't get juice without a bit of whipping action. No mind, the foam was pretty and may even be normal for pomegranate juice for all I know. This was the first time I've had it fresh (and only the second time to have pomegranate juice at all-- like I said, the stuff never became trendy here).

It was terribly sour, but once I'd sweetened it a bit it was so so good. If I could drink this stuff every day I would be a happy girl (and healthy too? I have a vague idea that this stuff is good for you but don't know exactly how). Next year I think I'm going to offer my student cash for her whole crop...

Liqueur update

This is the strawberry liqueur after one week. You can see the sugar has fallen to the bottom and is starting to dissolve, and the berries have already lost much of their colour.

It is way too early to check on the liqueur, but I had to add the vanilla I wasn't able to find last week. So in went two pods of vanilla, split, and another one and a half packs of strawberries, since I don't think I used quite enough. I didn't even bother tasting it, since at this point the only flavours will be raw alcohol and sugar.

You probably won't see the liqueur again until June. Hope it turns out!

Making liqueurs

Last June I blogged about the picking wild cherries at the local park and turning them into cherry liqueur, and since then I've completely forgotten to post the results. Well, those very same cherry trees are about to erupt into bloom, so I think it's time to show you our wild cherry liqueur.

I ended up with about two litres of black liqueur that has an intense cherry fragrance and a syrupy flavour. The sweet cherry taste is balanced by a soft nuttiness and a slightly bitter flavour, and although it tastes nice it is a bit hard to drink straight. The liqueur in the picture above is heavily watered down, which is not only a better way to drink it but the only way the colours would show up in the picture. This is dark, dark stuff.

My next project is strawberry liqueur. I made some a few years ago and although it turned out a little bit too sweet it was totally delicious. I ended up giving it away to so many people that there was hardly any left for me, which I've regretted ever since. This time I'm keeping it all to myself!

If you can find the ingredients, why not try making some strawberry liqueur for yourself? It's super-easy and tastes a thousand times better than anything you can buy in a store. If you're in Japan, the strawberries will be in the markets for another month or so, so this is a good time to start. This is what you'll need to make it:

• 200 to 500 grams rock sugar
• 1.8 litres "white liquor", or other alcohol 
• 3 1/2 packs strawberries, washed, hulled and dried
• 1 vanilla bean, split (optional) 
• A large glass jar with a tight-fitting lid

OK, you probably have questions already, so I'll go ahead and answer them: 1) It doesn't really have to be rock sugar, that's just the kind that is used here. The amount of sugar depends on you: 500 grams or more will result in a very sweet liqueur, so use less sugar if you don't want it syrupy. Keep in mind that more sugar can always be added at the end if it's not sweet enough, but it's very hard to fix a too-sweet liqueur. 2) "White liquor" is a 35% distilled alcohol widely sold in Japan. Although it's meant for liqueur making it can be a bit harsh and nasty, so don't buy the cheapest kind. Or use vodka. 3) Why 3 1/2 packs of strawberries? Because that way you can start off with 4 packs and then eat them while you hull them, little sneak that you are. 4) There is no vanilla bean in the picture because they don't sell that kind of thing out here in the sticks. I'll add it later. If you can't find vanilla or don't like it, try using lemons instead. Here is my recipe for strawberry liqueur with lemons from a few years ago.

To make the liqueur, add the strawberries and rock sugar to the jar in layers. Most of the Japanese recipes say to do that, but honestly I don't know if it's necessary. The sugar will settle to the bottom in a few days anyway. But it looks pretty, so why not. Some recipes also say to pour the alcohol into the jar first, so when you drop the strawberries in they will splash around and not get bruised. But I don't think bruising is a big problem.

Pour in the white liquor. Make sure you completely cover the fruit and sugar with the alcohol.

Seal the jar tightly and store in a cool dry place for at least 2 to 3 months. You can start tasting it after 2 months, but I find it tastes best after 3 or 4 months. When it's done, drain it into another jar, saving the strawberries (they won't look pretty but they'll be great in smoothies or over ice cream). You can give it another strain with a coffee filter if you want to remove the fine particles leftover from the berries.

And that's it. If these instructions sound vague, that's because making fruit liqueurs is not an exact science. It's very hard to screw up and totally acceptable to make substitutions and fiddle with recipes. Seriously: the liqueur jars, sugar and white liquor sold in Japan all come with recipes, and they're all different.

So now that you know how easy it is, there's no excuse not to try it for yourself!

Update: it turned out nicely, but I found I didn't really like the combination of vanilla and strawberries. The vanilla overpowered the delicate strawberry flavour and gave the liqueur a slightly cloying quality, and while this might be nice with tart strawberries I don't think it works with the very sweet, bland strawberries favoured here in Japan. I much prefer the lemon version. Still, it's totally drinkable and vanilla fans might really like it.

Laughing Magpie lamb chops

Baby leaf salad with cherry tomatoes and walnuts; asparagus with lemon and garlic; wild rice pilaf; and grilled lamb chops with a sauce of red wine, garlic and rosemary.

Are you getting tired of grilled lamb chops? Sorry, they're the only kind of lamb that can be found reliably around here, and since they're also frequently on sale we eat them often. One of these days I'll do something different with them, I promise.

The wine was The Laughing Magpie 2005, a blend of Shiraz and Viognier from d'Arengberg (a winery I was introduced to at my wine class last month). This beautiful wine is intensely fruity but smooth, with flavours of blackberries, plums and chocolate. I'm in love.

Wine Class

Here are a few members of my wine class, about to head home on the final day of school. Sandra Shoji, the teacher, is third from left.

I think I mentioned the class before and made a vague promise to post about it soon. Well, it's already over-- today was the final day. So I figure I better post about it while it's still (somewhat) fresh in my memory.

I learned a lot, but what I learned only makes me want to find out more. I have a feeling that this is a subject that no matter how much I know, there will always be more to learn. Which could either be really frustrating or really challenging. In any case, I have a lot to learn and look forward to doing so.

I also have a feeling that this is a very expensive hobby to get into, but with fewer health benefits than other pricey hobbies like golf or yachting. Looking on the bright side though, it is probably a healthier interest, both physically and financially, than cigars, gambling or internet porn addiction. So I'm in.

During each class we learned about wine history, grape varieties, wine regions and the like, and tasted anywhere from 6 to 10 wines (and today we had something like 13 wines, including a blind taste test). The class was at Temple University and was taught by Sandra Shoji, who writes the wine column for the Daily Yomiuri.

I liked nearly everything we tasted, except for a couple Greek and Japanese whites (but even then I could see myself enjoying them in certain situations). My tastes didn't really change or become more refined: I prefer crisp, fruity and aromatic whites, and soft, complex reds. In fact, it turns out that my tastes are much wider than I thought- I seem to like pretty much any good, well-made wine. The difference is that now I have a slightly better idea of how to tell which wine will be good.

Anyway, here are some of the wines I especially liked. I wasn't able to get pictures of everything, so this is a bit of a random selection.

Moscato D'Asti 2005, DOCG, Scrimaglio. A reasonably priced frizzante (semi-sparkling wine) white with a lovely fruity nose and sweet flavour balanced by crisp acidity. It is also very low in alcohol and I'd love to drink this on a picnic with dessert. 

Barbera d'Alba, Superiore 2000, DOC, Giocomo Vico. From the same region as Moscato d'Asti, Piedmonte. Full bodied but smooth, with mellow tannins and spicy, cherry flavours.

We tried Port, Sherry, and Madeira, and although I thought I didn't like fortified wines I loved these three. My favourite was this Barbeito 10 year old Boal Madeira, from Funchal, Portugal. It has a complex nose with spicy, nutty, fruity and smoky notes, with a sweet marmalade flavour balanced by acidity. It went fantastically with Stilton cheese, although the teacher preferred it with chocolate. It is over 4000 Yen for a bottle but will keep well after opening, and at 19% alcohol it will probably last quite a while, making the price quite reasonable.

Feral Fox Pinot Noir, 2004, d'Arenberg. From Adelaide Hills in Australia, this had aromas of spice, vanilla, and black cherry, with juicy flavours and plenty of tannins.

On the last class we were joined by Bill Campbell of Hotei Wines, an importer of fine California wines, who gave an outline of the wine importing business and brought several wines fro us to taste. He started off by opening a bottle of sparkling wine (Gruet Methode Champenoise Blanc de Blans 2002, from New Mexico) with a champagne sabre, which certainly got our attention.

Again, I enjoyed all the wines. This Cline Viognier California 2005 was very nice. Like the other Hotei wines, it was tasted blind, and it really confused me-- I was expecting a California wine but this seemed like an Alsatian Gewurztraminer. Obviously this was my first time trying viognier, which is apparently a cult grape in California. I can't wait to try more.

I also liked the Havens Albarino Napa Valley Carneros 2005, with its dry, tart flavours and intense peachy citrus aromas. This Spanish grape is also new to me, And Havens is apparently the only producer in America that grows it.

Finally, I seemed to have liked this Stag's Leap Artemis Cabernet Sauvignon 2004, but by that time I was a wee bit too tipsy to describe it properly. All I have on my notes for this wine are a purple wine stain and the words "NICE!" and "spicey". Yes, I know it's misspelled. I really have a problem remembering to spit-- the more I enjoy the wine, the more likely I am to swallow it. And with so many good wines today, I didn't do much spitting.

Don de Dieu

Another snacks-for-dinner post. This time I assembled some brie and crackers; bread and olive oil; Italian sausages; and grilled shishamo (smelt with roe).

I was really excited about the Italian sausage, since I've never been able to find it here. But last Saturday I discovered that Nissin, an import supermarket in Azabu-juban, carries three kinds of Italian sausages. And a whole bunch of other good stuff. I've known about the place for years but have never bothered going, assuming it was the same as National Azabu or Kinokuniya (two well-known import shops that don't really have anything that I can't get far cheaper elsewhere).

But Nissin beats the pants off of those other two shops, with a huge selection of meats, cheeses and dry goods and fairly good prices. Along with the sausages, I bought a few kinds of cheese, a chunk of eisbein (German cured pork leg) and tamarind paste, which I was lamenting just a few weeks ago about not being able to find.

But the best part of Nissin is its wine and spirits, which have an entire floor to themselves. Easily the biggest and best wine selection I've seen in Japan, at surprisingly low prices. Then I checked out the beer selection and got a nice surprise: they had three Canadian beers! One was Molson Canadian, a mediocre beer from Canada's biggest brewer, but the other two were from Unibroue, a Quebec microbrewery that makes fantastic beers which until recent years haven't been very well-known outside of Canada. So, pleasantly surprised (and overwhelmed by the wine selection) I picked up both Unibroues.

The beer above is Don de Dieu ("Gift of God", named after explorer Samuel Champlain's boat) and it was rich, complex and delicious, and went really well with the food, which was totally accidental. The other one is Raftman, which is brewed with whiskey malt. I'm looking forward to trying it but am wondering why this was one of only two Unibroue beers on sale. It's a bit of an odd choice, and I kind of wish I could by another beer instead, like Maudite, Fin du Monde, or Blanche de Chambly (my brother is a big fan of Unibroue and these are three from his stash that I really like drinking when I go back home). But I guess I should actually try the Raftman first.

Anyway, I'm very curious about these beers in Japan and wonder if they're available anywhere else.

Nissin World Delicatessan
Open daily 9 aam to 9 pm
03-3583-4586
2-34-2 Higashi Azabu, Minato-ku Tokyo

Wild cherries

These are the wild cherries Hideaki and I picked at our local park this morning. I had assumed they were inedible (in fact last month I had tried a red one out of curiosity and it was horribly sour), but on my morning walk yesterday the park was full of people picking them. One little kid with his hands and mouth stained purple seemed to be proof that the cherries were indeed edible, but I still wasn't sure. So I worked up some courage and struck up a conversation with two ladies each carrying a few plastic bags bulging with the fruit. They were very happy to tell me what to do with the cherries (make juice, make liqueur, eat them as is) assured me that I'd be a great cherry picker because of my height, and even gave me a cherry to try.

I popped the tiny fruit into my mouth and the juice exploded on my tongue, revealing a sweet cherry flavour with a bit of sourness and a tiny hint of bitterness. Not as good as proper full-size black cherries, but not bad at all- especially considering the price.

The first thing that popped into my mind when I tried it was "Trail!". Trail is where my Dad grew up, in the Rocky Mountains of British Columbia, Canada. The few visits I've made there have always been in the summer, when several types of berries and cherries are in season. I guess this wild cherry tasted a lot like one I'd tried in Dad's hometown. Funny how the brain remembers flavours like that.

So on my way home from the park I stopped at each cherry tree and grabbed a handful of cherries to munch on, thinking how lucky I was to live near a free all-you-can-eat fruit smorgasbord.

This morning I came to the park as usual, only this time not to exercise but to pick. I brought some bags, a plastic tub, and my husband, who was just as excited to pick free cherries as I was.

After about half an hour I stopped eating them and concentrated on filling my tub. But not because I was full or especially keen to finish the job. Nope, what stopped me eating was the observation that I wasn't the only one enjoying the cherries- several cherries had little tiny worms poking out of them. I'll spare you the gory details, but once I had taken the cherries home and washed them I discovered that virtually all the cherries were pretty much crawling with worms.

Yuck! That ruled out eating the cherries straight, or making juice or jam. I decided the only thing to do was to make liqueur- any bugs I'd failed to remove would simply be pickled, and a good straining would ensure that nothing icky was left in the final product.

This is the beginnings of my cherry liqueur. It's just alcohol (the "white liqueur" widely available this time of year in Japan), the cherries (washed and carefully debugged) and rock sugar. I'm going to let it steep for a few months and then see how it tastes.

I hope it turns out as nicely as last year's strawberry liqueur.