Okonomiyaki (henceforth not italicized) is sometimes described as a savory pancake or as a Japanese pizza. What it actually entails is a batter made mainly of flour, egg, water, and baking powder, which is mixed with finely chopped cabbage and seasonings. To this batter, one adds meat or vegetable “toppings” (hence the pizza comparison) to one’s liking (hence the name, which could be translated as the “As You Like It Cooked Item”). This mixture is cooked in a frying pan or on a griddle and topped with okonomi sauce, mayonnaise, nori (seaweed), and bonito flakes.

The store-bought mix, which is what I use, contains seafood, but you can also make vegetarian or vegan versions or make the batter from scratch, as detailed on Just Hungry. Normally I don’t go for premade mixes–you will not find boxed cakes or pancake mix in my pantry–but the advantage of the okonomiyaki mix is getting the nagaimo and seafood seasoning into the flour. If you prefer to make the flour mixture yourself, just follow the instructions for that in the links, adjust to the appropriate serving size (mine is for two), and add the mashed kabocha per the instructions below.

As for toppings/add-ins, okonomiyaki staples included shrimp, squid, pork, kimchi, mochi, corn, and cheese. To make a pizza comparison, pork-and-kimchi, mixed seafood, and mochi-cheese are the Hawaiian, pepperoni, and margarita pizzas of the okonomiyaki world. Unforunately, vegetables added to okonomiyaki aren’t as popular in restaurants. To make vegetable-based okonomiyaki, incorporating quick-cooking vegetables like greens and corn straight into the raw batter with the cabbage would work well. However, this recipe is inspired by a kabocha okonomiyaki I ordered at Roast in Nonoichi. I love both okonomiyaki and kabocha, so when I saw it on the menu, I had to try it. I had no idea how the kabocha would be incorporated when I ordered. The kabocha was steamed and layered into the batter instead of diced and mixed in or layered on top like most toppings. (Of course, this makes way more sense, because kabocha would probably not cook well as a raw mix-in). It was delicious, and the only natural course of action was to figure out how to make it myself!

I love serving this because I like the layered effect; it’s visually interesting, unusual, and is very easy to make. Okonomiyaki has infinite possibilities–what’s your favorite?

Kabocha-Stuffed Okonomiyaki

Serves 2; makes 2 okonomiyaki.

Calories per serving: 376*

Ingredients
100 grams of okonomiyaki flour (okonomiyakiko, お好み焼き粉）
100 mL water
50 grams of cabbage (kyabetsu, キャベツ) or Chinese cabbage (hakusai, 白菜)
50 grams of bean sprouts (may subsitute another 50 g of cabbage) (moyashi, もやし)
1 egg (tamago, 卵）
1/8 of a kabocha (~200 grams), peeled, steamed and mashed（kabocha, かぼちゃ、南瓜)
~1 Tablespoon sesame oil (for cooking) (goma abura, ごま油)

Optional
Pickled ginger, to taste (beni shôga, 紅ショウガ）
Green onion, thinly sliced, to taste (negi, ネギ)

Condiments
~3 Tablespoons okonomi sauce (okonomi sôsu, お好みソース）(1.5 per okonomiyaki)**
~2 teaspoons Japanese mayonnaise（mayonêzu, マヨネーズ)***
A sprinkle of nori (dried seaweed)（aonori, 青　）
A sprinkle of katsuobushi (dried bonito flakes)（katsuobushi, カツオブシ, 鰹節）

Equipment
2 medium or large bowls
Two spatulas
Large frying pan or griddle
Optional: a lid for the frying pan

Procedure
1. If you haven’t mashed the kabocha yet, remove the peel (to hasten the cooking), chop into bite-size pieces, and boil until tender. Drain water well and mash with a potato masher or sturdy fork. Set aside.
2. Chop the cabbage and green onion (optional) into very thin strips; chop the bean sprouts. Set aside.
3. Mix the okonomiyaki flour and water together in a large bowl.
4. Add the egg, cabbage and bean sprouts,  green onion, and pickled ginger (and any other desired mix-ins) and mix well so that everything is coated in the batter.
5. Divide the batter evenly into the two bowls (one for each okonomiyaki).
6. Heat the pan over a medium flame and add a little bit of the sesame oil, making sure to grease the whole pan (using a paper towel to do so helps). Place half of one serving of batter carefully into a flat, round pancake shape, leaving enough room for rotating and flipping. Spread half of the kabocha on top, then spread the remaining batter for that okonomiyaki on top to cover the kabocha.
7. Optional: place lid on top to help the okonomiyaki cook more evenly.
8. Cook until the bottom is browned; turn with both spatulas to get the bottom done more evenly, especially on a griddle. When you flip the okonomiyaki, use both spatulas and have courage!
9. Cook the okonomiyaki through, making sure the batter is cooked.
10. Repeat steps 6-9 for the second okonomiyaki.
11. Add condiments right before serving.

Note

*Okonomiyaki flour is ~350 calories for 100 grams. This calorie count is based on using the lower-calorie mayo and includes the optional ingredients.
**I like Otafuku brand （オタフク).
**Most people use Kewpie (キューピー), I prefer Pure Select Super Low Calorie, Calorie 70% Cut (ピュアセレクト®　スーパーローカロリーカロリー７０％カット) (the one with a green cap) because it is lower in calories and has a longer shelf life. I almost never use mayonnaise, so it takes me forever to get through a bottle.

Cheruko over at Hokuriku Expat Kitchen sent me Mark Bittman’s New York Times article “We’re Eating Less Meat. Why?” the other day, and we were both pretty excited to see the new term he had coined for people like us: flexitarians, those who eat vegetarian most of the time. That is, my diet is based on vegetables, fruits, whole grains, and beans. I eat dairy, eggs, and honey. I eat fish a few times a week, but I try to limit my fish intake to domestic, locally caught, fish. (You would be surprised how much of the fish at my grocery store is imported from Norway, Alaska, and Chile even though I live on the sea.) I cook chicken occasionally; pork rarely; and beef, never, though I make exceptions for really good hamburgers and Hida beef if the opportunity presents itself at a restaurant. With meat that I purchase, I try to be as conscientious an omnivore as I can be in Japan.

Unfortunately, most of the domestically raised poultry sold in Ishikawa comes from Miyazaki prefecture–farther away and the prefecture hit hardest by avian flu in the past few years. Interestingly, Ishikawa is a good source of locally-raised pork, which I discovered when I set out to make today’s recipe. Fava beans, sora mame（空豆), are all over Kanazawa right now (though my vegetable almanac says they are a late spring bean), and they really compliment the sweet onions and spicy pork in this stir-fry.

A fava bean pod with two beans in it. The pods I buy tend to have 1-4 beans each.

Variations
Not a meat-eater?  Swapping in more fresh green beans, snap peas, or bean sprouts for the meat. To keep this recipe as a main dish with some protein, ~200 grams of fried tofu (abura-age, 油揚げ), skin on, would provide the umami needed. (Sesame oil provides a lot of umami too, so don’t swap it for olive oil!) If any readers who test out meatless versions, let me know!

This recipe cooks up quickly, so be sure to do all the prep-work before you turn on the heat.

Boiled fava beans. These need to be shelled.

Spicy Fava Bean and Pork Stir-Fry
Based on 「空豆と玉ねぎのチリ炒め」 by Himemomochi

Serves 2-3.

Time: 35 minutes
Prep (chopping, beans): 20 minutes
Cooking time: 15 minutes

Ingredients
~30 fresh fava beans (sora mame, 空豆）
1-2 Tablespoons sesame oil（goma abura, ごま油)
1/2 medium onion, diced (tamanegi, 玉ねぎ）
100-150 grams thinly sliced pork（buta usu-kiri niku, 豚薄切り肉）
2 cloves of garlic, minced (ninniku, ニンニク)
2 cm ginger root, minced (shôga, ショウガ)
50-100 grams green beans (ingen mame, インゲン豆) or bean sprouts (moyashi, もやし）
1/2 teaspoon dashi stock (だし)
1 teaspoon soy sauce (shôyu, 醤油)
1 Tablespoon ketchup (kechappu, ケチャップ)
1/8-1/2 teaspoon chili bean sauce (tôbanjan, 豆板醤)*

Equipment
A large frying pan
A small pot for boiling the beans
Colander

Instructions
1. Boil enough water in the pot to cover the beans. Remove the fava beans from the pods, and boil the beans for about 5 minutes or until firm. Drain and rinse in cold water. When cool enough to handle, pick off the shell around the bean and set aside.
2. Dice the onions and ginger root and set aside.
3. Pull or cut the pork into 3-4-cm pieces. (You want them to be bite-sized when cooked but not to burn).
4. Heat the sesame oil in the pan. When hot, add the pork and lightly cook. This should not produce fat drippings, so you probably will not need to mop up the pan.
5. Add the onions and cook on a low flame until they are translucent. Add the garlic and ginger.
6. Add the fava beans, any other optional vegetables, and dashi. Heat the fava beans through on a low flame.
7. Add the bean paste, ketchup, and soy sauce, and mix to coat.
8. Turn the heat up to medium and cook until the liquids reduce and the beans and onions get light scorch marks. This really helps the flavors pop. Taste and adjust the sauce with more chili bean sauce, ketchup, or soy sauce if desired.

Serve hot on top of brown rice. Goes well with miso soup with greens and green onions.

Note
*Sold with the Asian (Chinese, Korean) spices and pastes in the grocery store.

When I visited Shirakawa-go over the long weekend in January, I found Hîragi, a cute restaurant along the snow-covered the vehicle-access road to the lookout point in Ogimachi, Shirakawa-go. I was intrigued, of course, because one of my favorite kanji is 柊 (hîragi), holly, because the radicals mean tree-winter. What sealed the deal was the menu: I wanted to introduce my friends to hôba miso yaki（朴葉味噌焼き), and they wanted to try Hida beef (飛騨牛).

When we walked in Hîragi, the staff was incredibly friendly, showing us to a table by a heater and confirming that the Japanese-only menu was okay with us. Their welcoming attitude made me really happy because I’ve not always had the best luck with eating out at major tourist sites. Sometimes the staff are condescending; sometimes people just assume I can’t read or speak any Japanese. (Asking is totally fair, but the attitude and assumption that I couldn’t possibly really grates on my nerves. Plus, how am I supposed to order if I don’t know the Japanese names of the foods?… I digress.) There was none of this attitude here, and I found myself liking the place more and more because I was treated warmly and with respect.

Luckily, if you don’t read Japanese well, the menu has pictures. Most menu items can be ordered as a set or a la carte. Sets include the hôba miso set (hida gyû hôba miso teishoku, 飛騨牛朴葉味噌定食), which came with pickles, pickled ginger, kinpira, rice, a small bowl of soba, fruit, and the hôba miso yaki, which included onions, mushrooms, Hida beef, and tofu.

Hoba miso yaki set

To enjoy the hôba miso yaki, a staff member brings out a Sterno-like device, which is placed into a ceramic or metal grill and lit. The magnolia leaf rests on a piece of foil on top of the grate, and the heat cooks your food on top of this leaf.

When the miso starts to bubble and thicken, you stir it all together and enjoy. It’s not the prettiest meal, but it’s one of the tastiest. The Hida beef is marbled and melts in your mouth; the umami of the magnolia leaf mixed with the mushrooms, tofu, onions, and beef is divine. Also, a lot of the fun is just waiting on your food to cook while you enjoy your soba and okazu.

出来上がった！

Believe me, if it had been proper to lick the miso off the leaf, I would have.

This set is 1300 yen, as is the Hida beef skewer set (hida gyû kushi yaki don, 飛騨牛串焼き丼) (also available a la carte).

One of the skewers was spicy, and the staff even asked if that were okay, which I thought was very conscientious. Apparently the juices and marinade in this kebab-donburi hybrid drip onto the rice and make it even more delicious.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the most vegetarian-friendly restaurant. However, for the pescetarian, there is the salt-roasted sardine (iwashi shiyaki teishoku, イワシ塩焼き定食) set for 1000 yen (or the sardine a la cart), as well as udon and soba (900 yen each), which might not contain meat but probably have non-vegan stock, if that’s a concern for you. The soba that came with our sets was excellent and locally made, so if you are a noodle aficionado, be sure to give the soba a try.

On our table was a notebook for guests to sign, so I made sure to write the staff a nice note about how we were visiting from Kanazawa and how happy I was to have amazing food in a cozy and warm restaurant. If you want a taste of Shirakawa-go’s famous cuisine, Hîragi will win you over with its simple but lovely cuisine and its hospitality.

お休み処　柊　(Oyasumi Dokoro Hîragi)

〒501-5627 岐阜県大野郡白川村荻町1823
1823 Ogi-machi Shirakawa-gô Ôno-gun Gifu-ken 501-5627

Tel. 090-3303-4505

Open 10:00-18:00. (L.O. 17:00)

No fixed holidays. Available for large-group reservations.

Website: Shirakawa-go 柊 page

Map

After several trips to the brewpub Beer Belly and to the actual Minoh Brewery, it’s about time I got around to reviewing my absolute favorite beer in Japan: Minoh Beer (箕面ビール), which operates from Minoh, Osaka. Readers of my blog know that I love craft beers, and also that finding a really good dark beer in Japan is a huge challenge.

I found Minoh quite by accident. Last January, I traveled to Osaka and Wakayama on the long weekend in January. My friends joke that I have a Spidey-sense for beer, and, sure enough, I found a stash of Minoh Imperial Stout on the shelf of a random Osaka omiyage shop in Namba. (Sadly, this shop no longer seems to stock the beer, but there are plenty of shops in the area that do.) I’ve had stouts in Japan, and while I enjoy them a lot more than what passes for beer here, only a few really stand out in my mind as beers I would buy again.

This was different. I cracked open my Imperial Stout with my friends when I returned home, and we were all blown away. This was the real deal. This was, hands down, the best stout I have EVER had in Japan. Furthermore, this became one of my favorite stouts ever, Japanese or otherwise.

You know when you’ve been biking with low air pressure in your tires, and you finally pump the tires and are astounded with the crap you’ve been putting up with until now? When you think, “Oh, this is what biking is supposed to feel like. I feel great!”? That’s what drinking Minoh Imperial Stout was like after 1.5 years of trying any craft or imported beer I could get my hands on. Duvel, Chimay, Wychwood, Heartland–these are all solid beers, but the quality and flavor does not outweigh the cost. For example, in the US, Sam Adams seasonals and Blue Moon are my “just to have in the fridge” beers–tasty but inexpensive, something to just relax with instead of something to spend my cash on and seriously savor. There is a huge price jump between the “cheap” national brands of the yellow and fizzy variety and the imported and craft beers, and if I’m going to spend 300-500 yen on a single bottle, it better be worth it. Many are acceptable to drink but not cost effective. Minoh is actually worth your hard-earned yen.

Suppose you’re not a stout drinker. Never fear, Minoh has you covered on all fronts. Their standard beers are Weizen, Pilsner, IPA, and W-IPA in addition to Stout, Cabernet, Dark Lager, and special/seasonal brews. The Weizen is my favorite of their lighter beers, as it has a really complex flavor and is not too fruity or sweet. Their seasonal flavors are a lot of fun; for instance, the seasonal flavor in November was “Turn Red,” a red beer brewed for the autumn foliage season (kôyô, 紅葉), and the seasonal flavor in December was yuzu (Japanese citron). The yuzu was quite interesting–instead of a light citrusy note in the beer like Fat Tire, this beer had a totally unexpected yuzu punch.

Even if you don’t go to Osaka often, Minoh has a list of retailers and restaurants/bars who sell the beer nationwide; you can also order it online. Bottled beer costs 400 – 600 yen each. I haven’t tried ordering online yet, but let me know if you have!

A few final bits of interesting information: Minoh Brewery is run by the Ohshita (大下) family and is managed by the two Ohshita daughters, Mayuko and Kaori. The Imperial Stout was the winner of the World Beer Awards 2010′s awards for Best Strong Stout, Best Porter and Stout, and Best Asian Stout. So, beer marketers who think women want fruity faux beers and other sexists in the industry, take note.

Kanpai! 乾杯！

Minoh Brewery
The Minoh Brewery itself is located in Minoh. The easiest way to get there from downtown central Osaka is to get on the Hankyu Takarazuka line（阪急宝塚線) at Hankyu Umeda Station (阪急梅田駅) and transfer to the Minoh Line (箕面線). Get off at the second-to-last stop, Makiochi Station (牧落駅). From there, follow the directions on the website: Exit the west gate (西口） and turn right. Head for the am/pm (a conbini). At Megane no Aigan (メガネの愛眼), a optician with a big sign with glasses on it, turn right and walk toward the Minoh City Hall intersection (箕面市役所前). Make a right here. In front of the second Autobacs (オートバックス), turn left and walk toward Nagino Park (ナギノ木公園).

The brewery is on the right and the sign out front reads AJI Beer. There’s no food served here, but there’s a great causal oden restaurant nearby on the main road if you like oden. They usually have Weizen and stout on tap, but you can purchase bottles from the fridge for there or to go. There is a young male staff member who speaks English if you can’t speak Japanese well. The staff brings out the bottled beer as it is finished, so if the selection is scanty, have a pint or two and wait. I’ve been once at 4 pm and once at 10 am, and both times waiting awarded me with a better selection. (People will come in and buy a lot, so if you see something you want, get it then!)

Also of note in the area are several well stocked liquor stores with good selections of whiskey, wine, and imported food, as well as Minoh’s famous waterfall, which is located at Minoh (箕面駅), the last stop on the Minoh line. Once you get off the train, the hiking trail to the waterfall (the star attraction of the area) is very well marked, and there’s tons of local foods to sample on the way. From Minoh Station, the brewery is 15 minutes by taxi.

I haven’t managed to get a tour yet, but Beer in Japan has an in-depth post on the brewery with great shots of the tanks.

〒562-0004 大阪府箕面市牧落3-19-11
3-19-11 Makiochi Minoo-shi Osaka 562-0004
TEL：072-725-7234

Open 10:00-18:00
Closed Thursdays

Beer Belly
Beer Belly (ビアベリー), the Minoh brewpub, has two locations in Higobashi and Edobashi; Minoh Monogatari is the third pub (information here. You can walk from Umeda Station (20 minutes) or take the subway (地下鉄) Yotsuyabashi Line (四ツ橋線) to Higobashi Station (肥後橋駅), exit 3 (3番出口) and head west for 5 minutes. The restaurant is down a quiet street off the main road and not too far from the Science Museum.

The menu is pretty diverse, with fish and chips, pizza (takes a long time), gyûdon, and all manner of Japanese and western pub food and tsumami. The brewery has mostly Minoh (Stout, Pale Ale, W-IPA, Pilsner, Dark Lager, and Weizen) on draft but often has other domestic craft beers on tap as well. Whole (British size) pints are 900 yen and half pints are 550–this is expensive beer, but it is worth every penny AND you would pay that much for a Guinness in Tokyo. Dinner items cost around 600-700 yen.

〒550-0001 大阪市西区土佐堀1-1-30 大阪リバービル1Ｆ
Osaka River Building, 1st floor
1-1-30 Tosabori, Nishi-ku, Osaka-shi
550-0001

TEL: 06-6441-0717

Hours: 17:00-24:00 (L.O. 23:30)
Closed Sundays and national holidays

More on Minoh Beer

“Minoh Beer, Osaka.” Good Beer in Japan. 28 Jan. 2010.

Nate. “Minoh Beer’s Ohshita Kaori.” Good Beer and Country Boys. 13 Apr. 2009.

The Wada House heart (irori, 囲炉裏) in Shirakawa-go

I suspect this folklore came about because someone in the late Heian Period (794-1185 CE), the era when the custom is said to have originated, accidentally burned down the house during the dead of winter and that this misfortune was attributed to Kôjin’s malice. From another standpoint, in a culture where houses were traditionally made of wood and paper, fire has been a constant worry historically. However, despite my best efforts to observe the customs of semi-secularized Shinto and Buddhism, I was not about to let the kitchen flames go out in my apartment at the year’s end.

On New Year’s Day, we started off well, eating muffins and bread I had made days earlier for brunch, but by 3 everyone was a bit peckish from hitting the fukubukuro (福袋), “lucky bag,” sales. Popcorn–the kind you make in a big vat–sounded lovely. I hadn’t made popcorn in a few months, and, in trying to do it from memory, I stupidly set the lid down the pot as I was heating the oil. I threw in a few test kernels, replaced the lid. There was a pop–the lid jumped an inch, revealing orange flames. My friend and I exchanged a panicked glance. I turned the gas off and removed the lid. Sure enough, the pot was full of fire. The lid went immediately back on and the pot went onto the balcony to cool. Apples and cheese it was, then.

Photo copyright Mark Schumacher, http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/kitchen-gods.html

For dinner, I made ozôni, which is supposed to be one of the only foods for which a cooking fire can be lit. Ozôni (お雑煮), a soup with a dashi-based broth, is chock full of greens and mochi and is one of the quickest soups to make. I made a pescetarian version with silken tofu as well as a traditional version with chicken. The final touch was the mochi, which I decided to toast in the fish grill of my gas range. When done right, toasted mochi is lighted browned on the outside and gooey on the inside. My version was more like mochi flambé. Yes, the two cakes at the back of the grill actually caught fire. They were easily saved–I just blew out the fire and cut off the burn part. Being alone in the kitchen certainly has its advantages.

Oyama Jinja, 2 Jan. 2012

After making my first offering at Oyama Jina (尾山神社) on January 2 as part of my real hatsumôde (初詣), I promptly turned a vegan carrot-cake-for-one into a hockey puck (never using the “just microwave it!” option ever again) and produced a too-moist apple-bread experiment in the rice cooker. Clearly I have appeased the god of the kitchen fire but not the god of the oven range just yet. It would probably be in my best interest at this juncture to visit a shrine to pray for the gods of the kitchen appliances to forgive my culinary trespasses this holiday season.

Happy New Year to my readers, and may your relationship with Kôjin-sama improve!

読者の皆様、お読みになっていただき、誠にありがとうございました。本年もよろしくお願-！（荒神様とご関係をよくなるように！）

The one thing that is absolutely necessary for me to have around Christmas is cookies. Instead of hosting a All Holidays Welcome potluck, we hosted a Cookie Exchange. These are especially nice in Japan where our movens/oven ranges are quite small compared to how they are in the US, and, from what I gather, the UK, Europe, and other “bread cultures.” I offered up the use of my oven range, as well, since mine is on the large side. We got all the standards: sugar cookie cutouts, gingerbread cookies, gingersnaps, snickdoodles, coffee cookies and panettone from the import store, and even some homemade peppermint marshmallows!

Normally, I don’t like to post without giving out the recipes, but the gingerbread cutouts were a pain to cut-out and might just end up being gingerbread drop cookies, and I need to extract the sugar-cookie recipe from my husband and give it another run since I was at work when he made them. (Plus the pictures aren’t so great….)

Happy cookie-filled holidays to all!

(lit. [It takes] three years for [planted] peach and chestnut trees, eight for persimmons [to bear fruit]) (ことわざ学習室）

In late autumn and early winter (mid-Nov. to New Year), Omicho Market is awash in reds and oranges: strawberries, crabs, mikan, and persimmons. Before I moved to Japan, I had never seen a persimmon, though they seem to be available in California.  There are two main varieties available in Japan: non-astringent (amagaki, 甘柿) and astringent (shibugaki, 渋柿). Fuyu (富有）, the tomato-shaped variety, are a variety of sweet persimmon; they are dull orange, firm, and ready to eat when they are sold. The human-heart-shaped Hachiya (蜂屋), on the other hand, is very astringent until the skin turns reddish and the insides turn to jelly.*

Seedless persimmon, possibly 紀ノ川柿 variety (Kinokawa)

I tend to eat Fuyu persimmons plain, but I was inspired by The Food Librarian‘s “Fuyu Persimmon Bundt” to try something new.  I used a sweet seedless variety  (hiratanenashi, 平種無) with a cinnamon-colored flesh in one batch and a seeded variety with orange flesh in another. Both work equally well, though the color of the cake will vary based on the fruit. (Remove the seeds, of course, if applicable.) My coworkers compared this cake to a Western-style Christmas cake, combining sweet fresh and dried fruits with nuts and spices. I think I know what I’m making instead of Stollen for Christmas this year!

My alterations: The night before I made the first round of this cake, I was out of butter, so I swapped in yogurt 1:1 by volume. Also, I think the natural sweetness of the persimmons more than makes up for the comparative lack of sugar in my version. This is also a half-size recipe to accommodate for the size of Japanese oven-ranges. The original recipe is here if you want US measurements and the full-size recipe.

Spiced Persimmon Cake

Adapted from “Fuyu Persimmon Bundt” on The Food Librarian (which is adapted from a recipe in Sunset Magazine)

Yields 12 cupcakes or 12 squares if using a pan

Calories: 125 each

Time: ~65 min.
Prep: 20 min (depending on how fast you can chop; after that, the mixing is very easy)
Baking: 45 min.

Ingredients

350 grams (about 375 mL/volume) peeled and diced firm fuyu persimmons (persimmon: kaki, 柿; Fuyu: 富有)
1 teaspoon baking soda (jûsô, 重層)
75 g unpacked brown sugar (sanontô, 三温糖)
65 mL plain yogurt (yôguruto, ヨーグルト)
120 grams all-purpose flour (komugiko, 小麦粉)
1 egg, at room temperature (tamago, 卵)
1 teaspoon lemon juice (remon, レモン)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (banira essensu, バニラエッセンス)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder (bêkingu paudâ, ベーキングパウダー)
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves (kurôbu, クローブ)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (shinamon, シナモン)
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg (natsumegu, ナツメグ)
45 g chopped walnuts (kurumi, クルミ, 胡桃)
40 g raisins (rêzun, レーズン)

Equipment
Muffin cups (mafin kappu, マフィンカップ) OR brownie pan (8×8 in; 20×20 cm)
3 medium bowls

Directions
1. Peel and chop persimmons into bite-size pieces. Remove seeds if necessary.

2. Mix the persimmons with the baking soda in a medium bowl and set aside.

2. In another bowl, mix the yogurt with sugar until the sugar is totally dissolved. Add the egg, then lemon juice and vanilla. Mix to incorporate.

3. Add the persimmon and baking soda mixture to the wet ingredients.

4. Whisk together flour, baking powder, cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg in a bowl, then add to the wet ingredients.

5. Gently fold in the walnuts and raisins.

6. Fill muffin cups about 3/4 full or fill a greased brownie pan with batter.

7. Preheat oven range to 170° C. Bake about 40-45 min., until a chopstick comes out mostly clean. The cake should be soft, but solid and springy (not indented). N.b. The batter is very dark and will get even darker as it cooks. If you are concerned about the cake burning, place tinfoil over the top near the end. The juiciness of the persimmons and the texture of the yogurt make cause the cakes to take longer to bake.

8. Store in an airtight container or wrap foil over the brownie pan. This is a very moist cake, so it’s best to eat this within 3-4 days of baking if left at room temperature.

Note

*Hachiya are good in oatmeal and great for faux-sorbet.

The spread. We made the mashed kabocha, mashed potatoes, and the turkey (not pictured in this photo).

Despite my oft-mentioned love of turkey, I had actually never cooked one until this year. In between being a super serious high-school student buried in a stack of books during the holidays and being a super-serious undergrad/grad student visiting from out of state, still buried in a stack of books and often rushing to get back home in time for holiday meals, I somehow seemed to have missed participating in the time-honored ritual of roasting a whole bird. This year marked my third consecutive Thanksgiving missed because I live in Japan, so rather than cry over my twitter feed of satisfied turkey-eaters in the US, I decided that my upgraded oven range was going to good use this year: we would host Thanksgiving, and, moreover, we would cook the turkey.

(Warning: this post involves an avian carcass that I willingly had a hand in dismembering and consuming.)

I realize that the first time most people host their first Major Food-Related Holiday it’s not such a big deal, but for me, it was a triple threat of 1. first time hosting; 2. having no clue how to roast a turkey, especially since cooking meat is a hassle; and 3. the pressure of knowing that if I screwed up the turkey, I would have lost the culinary respect of 10 guests, about 5000 yen (no, seriously), and possibly the only chance I would have to eat turkey this year.

Thankfully I didn’t screw it up too badly. Here’s what I learned:

1. Get the right bird. I bought an 8-10 lb. turkey on Foreign Buyers’ Club, though you could get it from your favorite online import store. They sent a Jaindl-brand bird, and it arrived within a week. Luckily, we had measured the oven range before selecting a turkey. Unfortunately, we had not measured the fridge, but we were able to shuffle enough of the food in the freezer and fridge around to accommodate it.

2. Study up. Without my turkey-veteran relatives around, I stuck to reading The Joy of Cooking, but I really wish I had seen this video before attempting the turkey, because she outlines several of the pitfalls I encountered and mostly dodged. I could have stuck most of the butter mix from “Roasted Turkey with Rosemary-Garlic Butter Rub and Pan Gravy” on top of the bird. I would have known what the hell that plastic thing protecting the turkey’s modesty was. (I did remove it before cooking.) I would not have risked cutting my hands on the spine (ew) of the bird when I could have just found the remaining giblets in the neck area. Also, we ended up cutting the done breast meat off and sticking the not-done legs back in the oven based on the advice of a friend with turkey experience, but I didn’t realize that was a normal thing to do.

3. If you are creeped out by meat, a turkey is not going to help. Having grown up in the suburbs in the US, I am not familiar with meat that looks like an animal in the way that many Japanese are used to serving and/or eating whole fish, shellfish, and crustaceans; having organs at yakiniku; or eating kanimiso. This turkey had wings and legs, as most turkeys are wont to do, but it was really unnerving flopping this bird around when I could see it had once been, well, a bird. I realize that the disconnect I have between my sliced turkey obsession and my borderline disgust with pulling the dark meat off the hips and back of the turkey with my bare hands is terrible, but there you have it. I suspect this experience is going to further contribute to my creeping toward a lifestyle with very little meat in it, but that’s probably for the best in terms of my wallet and my health.

Since Labor Thanksgiving (勤労感謝の日) fell on Nov. 23, the day before US Thanksgiving 2011, it was the perfect day to have our own Thanksgiving celebration here in town. Our friends brought their favorite dishes and copious amounts of red wine. We had a variety of regional fare from all over the US and dishes we created in Japan; not everyone was American, but we all reminisced about holiday meals with our families, comparing our experiences across nationalities, regions, and subcultures. I even learned that green-bean casserole is actually amazing when it’s fresh and totally homemade. Everyone tried their best to recreate their favorite dishes, and the love that was put into the meal really showed. Even though only a few of us said what we were thankful for that day, I think we were all thankful for our support network and for a chance to make one cherished but often very stressful tradition wholly our own.

Back in my language-school days at Midd, a New-Yorker foodie friend got on my case for eating the dining-hall bagels, telling me, “That’s not a bagel. That’s a piece of bread shaped like a bagel.” It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t find out what sort of things pass for “bagels” in Japan–it’s more like “cake shaped like a bagel.” Sometimes you can get passable bagels in the chain bakeries of Kanazawa, and Kaldi Coffee sometimes has imported frozen bagels, but they’re a bit pricey. Either way, it’s not just like popping over to Espresso Royale for a fresh Barry’s Bagel during an intense paper-writing session.

Bagels are one of those foods that seem very intimidating in part because of the multi-step process of making them: using yeast, letting the dough rise, shaping, boiling, and then finally baking; and in part because you really never need to make them in the US when they’re so widely available.

It can be done!

I had been meaning to try to make bagels since June when I bought yet another “make bread and sweets with veggies” cookbook, but the heat of the Ishikawa summer and the stress of the move were not the best motivators. I kept saying I would make bagels after I moved. Then it was after I got paid. Then after the temperature dropped. What actually motivated me was a friend, part of my band of expat foodies. She found an easy bagel recipe online and brought some over as a pre-hike breakfast. Afterward, she practically set up a bagel factory in her apartment, bringing awesome variety bagels to dinner parties and movie nights. A couple weeks ago, she loaned me her latest cookbook, a collection of bagel recipes from several bakeries in Japan. Bagels do take some time and effort, but, like salsa, guacamole, and yogurt, they’re actually quite easy to make on your own, even if you work full-time.

Maybe the best thing about this recipes is that you can make bagel sandwiches with it–no more crying over shokupan sando! I like mine with smoked salmon, cream cheese, and spinach, but baked tofu, grilled chicken, or pesto with lettuce, peppers, or whatever else you can easily find in your local grocery store would be excellent, too. (See Serving Suggestions.) Also, these bagels are vegan if you are a yeast-eating vegan.

Whole-Wheat Bagels

This recipe is adapted from Atelier Brunnen’s “Rye [Bagels]“　(「ライ麦」） from Bagel Recipe Handbook (『ベーグル　レシピ　ハンドブック』), p. 110.

Makes 4-6 bagels (serving size: 1)*

Calories
4 bagels: 290 each
6 bagels: 193 each

Time
Total: 65-75 minutes
Active Preparation: 15 minutes
Resting/Rising: 30-40 minutes
Boiling: <1 minute
Baking: 18-20 minutes

Ingredients
240 g bread flour, plus extra for kneading/rolling (kyôrikiko, 強力粉)
60 g whole-wheat flour（zenryûhun, 全粒粉）
2-4 g instant yeast （insanto îsuto, インスタント・イースト）
15 g brown sugar（sanonntô, 三温糖）
6 g salt (shio, 塩）
150-165 mL warm water (30-40 C)

Equipment

• 1 medium to large pot
• 1 large bowl
• Rolling pin
• Clean surface for rolling out the dough (I use a wooden cutting board)
• If using a Japanese oven range, use parchment paper on top of the dark oven plate; otherwise, use a lightly greased cookie sheet

Instructions
1. Mix the bread flour and whole-wheat flours together. Put the brown sugar and yeast on one side of the bowl and the salt on the opposite side.
2. Make a well on the sugar side. Starting with 150 mL warm water, tip the bowl toward you and slowly pour the warm water into the well, letting the yeast dissolve a little before mixing to incorporate. If the dry ingredients will not mix in all the way, add a little bit more water. (I usually need all 165 mL.)
3. Mix with your hands to fully incorporate and knead about 6 times.
4. Divide the dough into 4-6 balls. Cover the dough with a damp clean towel or plastic wrap and let sit in a warm place (30-35 C) for 10 minutes.**
5. Roll out to a length of about 10 x 18 cm, then use your fingers to roll the dough into a long cylinder. Attach the ends and smooth out any seams as best you can. Set on your cookie sheet, cover, and let sit in a warm place free of drafts for 20-30 minutes, until the dough has risen somewhat.
6. While waiting on the dough, boil water in the pot (deep enough to submerge 1-2 bagels).
7. Preheat the oven to 190 C. (Remove any bagels you have sitting in there!)
8. When the dough has risen and the water has come to a gentle boil, boil the bagels for 40 seconds each. I usually do two at a time, but it will depend on how big your pot is. Carefully remove with tongs or a slotted spoon and set on the cookie sheet.
9. Bake for 18-20 minutes or until golden brown. The outside should be springy but the inside soft.
10. Let bagels cool completely and store in an airtight container. (May want to refrigerate in the warmer months.)

Serving Suggestions

• Cream cheese (kurîmu chîzu, クリームチーズ) is easy to find in Japan, and both Snow Brand (yukijirushi, 雪印) and Philadelphia are good, though you will not find low-fat or reduced-calorie versions here.
• Smoked salmon (smôku sâmon, スモーク・サーモン） is available in the meat section of some groceries, usually with the sausages and other prepackaged, pre-cooked meats.

Notes
*I recommend making 4 bagels if you are planning to eat them with a spread or 6 if you plan to make them into sandwiches.
**In late autumn through the spring, I usually set the microwave to go for a minute when I start cooking, then set the dough in there later since it will be slightly warmer than the kitchen and draft-free.

1. Yogurt

乳脂肪分 (nyuushiboubun): percentage of milk fat (2.3%)

I’ve finally found a sure-fire method for getting good, creamy yogurt. Keep in mind that this is what works best in my home environment in Ishikawa; you may find that slight variations will help given the exact settings of your heating pad or how your stove works.

• Pour boiling water into the jars and let them sit for 10 minutes. Way less dangerous than trying to extract them from a water bath.
• Use 2.3-2.5% milk. For whatever reason, my yogurt works best with this rather than skim or whole. ~2% milk is actually not that hard to find in Japan. 7-11′s store-brand cow’s milk (gyûnyû, 乳牛) is 2.3%, and I’ve found at least two other brands in Kanazawa. Just look on the side of the carton for the percentage of fat (nyûshibôbun, 乳脂肪分). Please note that Japanese milk tends to be labeled as “100% milk” on the front to indicate that it is not a yogurt drink or Calpis or milk coffee (or cut with water).
• Cool to 44 degrees C before adding the (approaching) room-temperature yogurt. This makes sure the batch doesn’t get below 42 degrees, which may make it runny. If you cool the milk too much, you can reheat it a bit first.
• Incubate overnight (8 hours). I try to time the milk-processing to finish at 11 pm (it takes about 30-60 minutes) so that I can leave the heating pad on overnight and then pop the yogurt into the fridge when I get up.

2. Partyland

Speaking of yogurt, Yogurtland in Osaka has changed its name to Partyland. The shop is in the same location and serves the same products.

Mango and Pomegranate-Raspberry with cheesecake, strawberries, and dried figs.

3. Chocolate Beer Cupcakes

• I’ve reduced the sugar by 60 grams. The icing is sweet enough that the cupcake doesn’t need as much sugar, and the cake still will be moist and hold together well with less sugar.
• You can dye the icing with Japanese powdered food coloring! I used about 1/4 teaspoon of Kogura (小倉) brand food coloring (shokuyô shikiso, 食用色素) in yellow (ki, 黄) and red (beni, 紅) to make orange icing for Halloween. I think I used a bit much–they looked sort of radioactive–but the frosting tasted just fine. I think 1/8 teaspoon or just a tiny sprinkle would be good for starters.
• You can replace half the butter with yogurt. I ran out of butter while making these and swapped in yogurt for the rest. Yogurt’s dairy fat and creamy texture make it a good substitute for butter in some baked goods.