We all have failures in the kitchen from time to time. This is one of mine. My mom couldn’t stop raving about these tofu donuts—she loved them so much she fried these babies up 3 days in a row. The original recipe (which comes from a Japanese cooking magazine) calls for Morinaga Hot Cake Mix. I have nothing against store-bought pancake mix, but I didn’t see the point since I had all the ingredients to make it from scratch. And this is where things went wrong.
As a kid I called it “suki yucky” because I was tickled by the oxymoron (suki means like or love in Japanese). Sukiyaki was a treat growing up. My mom would plop the portable electric stove on the dining table and the meat, vegetables, and tofu would bubble as we filled our bowls, then dipped the piping hot food into a small bowl of raw egg and slurp. She had a well-seasoned iron pot used just for this occasion. I don’t own a sukiyaki pot, which is why I never thought to make it on my own.
But reading about Sukiyaki Don in Harumi Kurihara’s Your Japanese Kitchen 1, I was surprised how quickly and easily this comes together. The eating experience is different of course, but the recipe is great for a fast but hearty and satisfying one-bowl meal.
I’ve been wanting to bake mochiko batter on a shortbread or pie crust. I’ve seen mochiko baked in a brownie-like batter, and I’ve seen it in a cake form, but I’ve never had it layered with a firm base. I imagined it would have a great textural quality—biting first into the chewy mochi, then into the crumbly crust.
I received a bag full of Meyer lemons last week (thank you, Amy!) and so the experiment began. Lemon bars seemed the perfect thing to modify. I get nervous altering a baking recipe, so I was timid, but the result was pretty good. I added the mochiko after making the curd and stirred in milk to balance the amount of liquid. I baked it a little longer—just enough so the side and top were starting to brown.
Mark Bittman has a way of making simple things look really delicious. I watched as he effortlessly whipped up ginger fried rice and I needed to make this immediately. The crunchy flecks of garlic and ginger, and using the garlic and ginger-infused oil for the fried rice sounded perfect.
Recently, when my mom visited LA, we took her to some of our favorite spots and she liked Shin Sen Gumi Yakitori and Shabu Shabu the best. The restaurant is on the second floor in an outdated Asian mall-like structure on the corner of Atlantic and Garvey in Monterey Park. I remember passing it countless times, always curious but never motivated to step into that building—but I’m glad we finally did.
This curry stands out for its variety of textures and flavors: the firm and sweet kabocha, the tangy and squishy tomatoes, the velvety eggplant, the amazingly crunchy renkon… every bite, coated in a robust curry, is different and interesting.
But before I get into that, I have to mention I’ve fallen into a slump. I was home alone, which means I usually revert to eating like a college student. Mac and cheese with a squeeze of sriracha, instant ramen topped with kimchee, and rice with fried egg drizzled with shoyu… you get the idea. Since the most rewarding part of cooking is sharing the meal with others, the process of cooking now felt laborious. Without mouths to feed, my motivation dissipated.
Soy sauce and wasabi flavored ramen noodles topped with wasabi leaves, slices of berkshire pork, menma, fishcake, tempura bits, nori seaweed, and scallions.
I was having a hard time imagining what this Ippudo ramen would taste like. Would the wasabi over power the dish? I was worried the first bite would be heaven, then slowly peter out, the flavors too intense. There was so much going on! But after peppering the waitress with questions, I decided to order it. Tonkotsu ramen is my favorite, so we also ordered that—just in case.
There’s always a contest going on over at Food 52. I submitted my Bacon and Shiso Fried Rice and was surprised it was selected as a finalist!
I would love this recipe to end up in the cookbook and shared with others—it’d be great to have a Japanese dish represented—so if you have a moment, please vote! You’ll have to create a username, but I promise it’s pretty painless. You can also watch Amanda and Merrill cook the two finalist recipes here.
If you’re not familiar with Food 52, it’s a project started by Amanda Hesser and Merrill Stubbs. They have a call for submissions for different categories (like “Your Best Pancakes”) every week, asking people to send in their recipes. They narrow the submissions down to 2 and present it to the people for a vote. The winner will be included in a cookbook that will be printed at the completion of 1 year. I like this bottom-up approach because it’s a forum that celebrates the home cook—food that was modified, refined, or imagined in people’s home kitchen.
Like I said, there’s always a contest in the works. Right now they’re accepting submissions for “Your Best Broiled Steak” and “Your Best Polenta Recipe.” These kinds of contests only are as good as the recipes submitted, so if you have a killer dish I encourage you to share!
Thank you for voting!
These mochi cupcakes are crusty on the outside, chewy on the inside, and have a wonderful hint of matcha. This recipe is a great alternative to the cupcakes we’re used to because they’re not overly sweet.
Happy Thanksgiving! I never had a traditional Thanksgiving dinner growing up, so I can’t offer a tried-and-true turkey or stuffing recipe. The closest thing I have to offer is a classic Japanese pumpkin dish.
My grandmother is big on kabocha, saying it prevents cancer. She’s from Hiroshima, which means she calls kabocha “nankin” and says other endearing words in the Hiroshima dialect like “houjyaken no” and “sou desu waine.” She practically lived in the kitchen and made real down-home Japanese food. She cooked for us daily, but she always ate yesterday’s leftovers. My grandmother’s generation, having lived through the difficult post-war years, didn’t waste a thing. She’s the kind of person who put everyone else first as she scraped the cold rice to eat for herself.
I was young and not yet interested in cooking, but I wish I had stuck by her side to watch her work her magic. I still learned a lot from her by way of eating and this is one dish I cannot make without thinking of her.
