Monday, January 11, 2010

Wedding food

A friend got married on Saturday and I should show you the pictures of the glorious food they served, but I can't. Just before the start of the ceremony, I dropped my camera. A new one is on order right now. But I can tell you about it, anyway.

After the ceremony (two familiar hymns, including Amazing Grace, with Lohengrin before and Midsummer Nights' Dream after, followed by the Ode to Joy), we went to a private room in the restaurant on the 18th floor, the tallest building downtown. Here's what was served, in order:

  1. Cold tea and juice
  2. Asahi Super Dry (for the toast)
  3. Sashimi (a bit of tai, which sounds like part of omedetai, congratulations)
  4. Sushi (I had to ask specially for some without wasabi for my daughter)
  5. Soup
  6. Braised salmon and scallop ( a little bit of each)
  7. Sherbert flavored with fresh uzu juice
  8. A small steak
  9. A Japanese course of sekihan (red beans with rice), soup, and an umeboshi
  10. Vanilla and strawberry sherbert with a cookie

It was all tasty and really gorgeous.
Have I forgotten anything?

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Baking bread

I started baking my own bread by hand in September. I had used a bread machine starting in 1993, but got inspired by eating my wife's handmade bread when we lived in California. The first few loaves I made were Irish soda bread, from a recipe and directions sent to me by a friend and former student who now lives in Ireland. But around the 3rd week in September, I started making yeast bread and was surprised how easy it was to make decent bread. Not great bread, certainly. Not even very good bread, perhaps, but decent bread, much better than I can buy around here except at great price and limited variety in a few bakeries.

Gradually, my bread has improved in flavor and texture. Yesterday I made my first biga using 1 cup of bread flour, 1 1/2 cups of water, and 1 teaspoon of active yeast.

Here's what it looked like after I mixed it up:



















After one hour:




















After four hours:



















In the morning, after a night in a cold room:



















In the oven:





















And ready to eat:

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Dressing up your rice

I've talked about this before, and I'll undoubtedly talk about it again. Rice is often eaten with something on it or mixed in it to give it more flavor. Furikake, which according to this posting was invented about  a century ago and was meant to be a calcium supplement, is the flavor supplement of choice for children anytime and many adults at breakfast. This morning I topped some rice with plain boiled shiitake leftover from our oshechi.

I suspect that part of the reason furikake and similar toppings are so common is that plain white rice is just that, very plain. In the U.S., how many people eat bread or potatoes without putting anything on them? Butter is the most common flavor supplement. How many people, in Italy or anywhere else, eat spaghetti totally plain? So why is it that some (many? most?) Japanese eat their plain white rice totally unadulterated at least part of the time?

I think it comes down to the iconic statue of rice in general which, to modern Japanese, has become synonymous with white rice. Rice is and has long been one of the symbols of Japan and the Japanese. Back in the Edo Era, the 17th, 18th, and first half of the 19th centuries, Japanese scholars started a custom of writing what have come to be called nihonjinron, essays about what it means to be Japanese. One theme common to most of these essays is a statement that Japanese rice is the most delicious and most nutritious rice in the world. I think it's fair to say that neither of these statements is correct. Certainly if you want to talk about nutrition, there's no contest. Most Japanese rice these days is eaten as white rice, and few nutritionists would be willing to defend white rice as nutritionally superior to brown.

Those few are, of course, mostly Japanese. My wife recently showed me a book by a Japanese doctor that claims, among other things, that there's a poison in rice bran that must be removed if you want your mitochondria to function properly. Some years ago a Japanese newspaper printed a series of articles that made a related claim. The idea was, as I recall, that Japanese are genetically (I think the article said racially) of the Mongolian type, and thus, for proper development of the brains, Japanese children needed to be brought up in extended , not nuclear, families, on a diet rich in fish and (of course) white rice.

Possibly the greatest absurdity of the argument that Japanese rice is the tastiest in the world is that it's generally put forward by people who have never tasted any non-Japanese rice. The import of rice is extremely tightly controlled. Rice sold for consumption in the usual way, as opposed to rice used in the factory construction of food, is 100% Japanese. Certainly the 19th century Japanese scholars who trumpeted this idea had never tasted imported rice.

Personally, I find Japanese brown rice compares favorably with other brown rice. It's only when you strip off those outer layers that it seems to fall behind Indian basmati and Thai Jasmin rice for flavor.

But enough of that. I was talking about toppings, to give rice flavor. One of the resons that's so necessary now is that white rice has taken over about 99.5% of the rice consumption activity. I don't know exactly when that happened, when the Japanese changed from eating the whole grain to eating only about 65% or less. The technology for polishing rice is old. But rice used to be consumed mostly by the samurai class, who collected it as rent. Most people were farmers who had to pay rice as rent to whatever samurai family was their overlord. Whatever rice they could keep after the rent was due was no doubt eaten whole, to save money and maximize the productivity of the field, and also, of course, to maximize nutrition, though that probably wasn't the conscious intention of the farmers. What did they know, right?

Actually, they may have known quite a bit, since it was the custom in rural districts, even as recently as the 1980s, to serve rice mixed with millet or barley to school children once or twice a month. I suspect that the custom of eating rice mixed with other grains was widespread, but documentation has so far eluded me. Probably the scholars who used to write about rice and extol its virtues didn't really know much of anything about how most of their fellow countrymen lived.

Sometime in the 19th century, starting in the cities with the merchant class, rice on the table changed from brown to white.This was an expression of growing affluence, and also of varied diets, which allowed people to survive even though they were throwing away the B vitamins and magnesium found in the outer layers of their rice. Now, white rice is so dominant that I've only ever seen it in a restaurant once, and never in a private home except my own, in all my years living in Japan. Furikake, however, is found everywhere, providing a little flavor where flavor has been removed in the milling process.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Monday, January 4, 2010

Still working on the osechi -- 2

But at least it almost all fits in the refrigerator now.

Food, names, and magic

A lot of the foods eaten as osechi have names that tie them in with good wishes.

  • Kinton, one word for sweet potato, can also mean block of gold.
  • Kuromame, black beans, includes the word mame, which means working hard, which presupposes health and leads to wealth.
  • Kobumaki, rolled konbu, includes kobu, which means pleasure. 
  • Kachiguri, dried chestnuts, sounds a bit like katsu, which means victory.
  • and so on.

Of course, black beans are eaten throughout the year, konbu is eaten in some form almost every day by many Japanese, and sweet potatoes are certainly an everyday food. It's only at New Year's that the food takes on this special significance. That's because of the magic of names. Japanese, after all, avoid using one one of the standard ways to pronounce the word four because that word, shi, sounds like the word for death.

Words have power. Words are magic. They invoke the nature of the thing they refer to, and by extension, what may seem like a pun, "Let's eat some good luck now," is actually a magical activity. That's why people's names are so important, and not just in Japan. As an elementary school teacher, I've always been very careful to pronounce students' names "properly" -- that is, the way they want them to be pronounced. If you mangle a person's name, you are doing violence to the person, the essence, the self-image of that person. Some people have taken to referring to President Obama as Omoslem. That's their way of insulting him, to tie his name to a religion that they apparently despise and consider un-American.

With food at New Year's in Japan, this sort of association makes eating a religious activity very similar to the practice of visiting shrines and buying omikuji. You buy a random inscription of good or bad luck and, if it's bad (for example shō-kyō, small curse 小凶) you fold up the paper and tie it to a pine tree which will be growing, handily, next to the place you get the slip of paper. That's because the word for pine tree is matsu, which is also the verb wait, so you're magically hoping the bad fortune will wait by the pine tree and not follow you in the new year.


It's magic. So, in these last few days, we've been stuffing ourselves with happiness (kobu), victory (katsu), and especially wealth (kinton). It's tasted good. But now we have to get busy (mame) and walk off those calories, without losing all that good fortune. Wish us luck!

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Osechi -- again.


Extremely simple breakfast

We took a sort of semi-break from osechi this morning -- at least, we only ate osechi as side dishes. Instead, we had rice and miso soup. My wife and daughter had tofu in their soup. I had a raw egg, You can see the soup is still a bit yellow. After a few minutes, the heat of the soup made the egg sort of semi-cooked.

Raw eggs used to be a staple of Japanese breakfasts, but few young people eat them anymore, preferring scrambled or sunny side up. When I'm served a raw egg at breakfast at an inn, I usually break it, add the yolk to my miso soup, and discard the white. Most older Japanese will break the egg into a bowl, beat it with their chopsticks, and put it on top of a bowl of rice. Some will mix with it natto. Young Japanese at inns normally leave it on the serving tray.


















The umeboshi is from the local farmers' market. The label tells who grew and made it and where they live. (Two valleys to the south of here.) The ingredients are listed as ume, salt, and shiso. That's my kind of food. The list of ingredients is very short.

Umeboshi is normally translated "pickled plum" although actually it's made from an apricot, not a plum.

Still working on the osechi

But supplemented.






















And my wife decided it was time to make some nice walnut raisin rolls.

(Unfortunately, she's the only one in the family who likes them.)

Friday, January 1, 2010

Jubako loaded with osechi

































But they almost got lost in the shuffle on the table at my in-laws' house:

First meal of the year -- ozoni


Last meal of the year -- toshikoshi soba