Renkon Mentai

I love lotus root. They're crisp like autumn apples when chopped, and hearty like tororo (grated naga imo, or yam) when grated. Renkon (or lotus root) has a wonderful texture either way, and due to the lack of strong flavor it works well with many different ingredients. I like to chop it up in bite-size pieces and toss it with a rich mentaiko (spicy cod roe) sauce. This is an easy side dish and is great cold, making it an ideal make-ahead-and-let-sit-in-fridge-til-dinner/potluck dish.





Lotus root will start changing color if you let it sit out for too long, ruining the presentation of its almost porcelain-like appearance. So before you start chopping the holey root, let it sit in a mixture of vinegar and water for about 5 to 10 minutes. You should peel the skin with a peeler first.

While it's soaking, prepare the sauce. Scrape the roe from one large or two medium-sized mentaiko sacs. You should make a a long insertion length-wise, spread the two halves so the skin is touching the cutting board, and scrape out the roe with the dull end of a knife, or a spoon. If you are gentle you will not break the membrane. For some reason, I find a squeeze of lemon juice on the mentaiko aids in smooth scraping of the roe.



After you have enough mentaiko (and "enough" depends on how much you like these little eggs!), mix it with the same amount or less of mayonnaise (this, too, depends on how much you like mayonnaise; less mayo and more mentaiko is the way I like it). The mentaiko is salty enough so you won't need any salt for taste.

Let the sauce sit and return to the soaking lotus root. Cut them in bite size pieces, even thin slices. Boil a large pot of water and carefully dump the chopped roots into the boiling water. Let boil for about 3-5 minutes (even less if you've sliced the roots)--that's it! You don't want to lose the delicious crunch of these vegetables by cooking them too long. Taste one after a few minutes and when you feel they need another minute, that's when you should take them out. Because you will...

Use a strainer and allow the roots to cool naturally--do not cool them with water. Right after you have strained them, squeeze half a lemon (or more, if you like lemon! I'm really roundabout with my measurements, aren't I??) to slow down the color-changing process. They might get a bit purple-ish where the lemon has not touched. Although they are "cooling", since they are still hot they will continue to cook slightly. This is fine.

After maybe about 5 to 10 minutes, when they are still warm to hot to the touch, toss them with the mentaiko mixture. You should do this while the renkon are still warm so the mayonnaise kind of melts and sticks to the root.



To garnish, use chopped green onions and toasted sesame seeds. You might want to wait to put them on until they are ready to be served.

This is a delicious dish and makes such a beautiful presentation that it will surely be a hit at any dinner table or party! Try it!


レンコン明太 renkon mentai
とろろ grated yam
長いも naga imo
レンコン lotus root
明太子 spicy cod roe

I think I see Tim Burton in there...

Umi Budo

Literally, "sea grapes", umi budo are a type of sea kelp that gets its name from their physical resemblence to grapes. They are found in the warm seas of Okinawa and then shipped to various other locations in Japan in a plastic sac filled with salt water. Before serving, they are lightly washed (to wash off the sea water) and then soaked in room temperature water for about 3 minutes to bring it back to its fully buoyant state.

It sounds harmless enough, doesn't it? Well, the first time I followed this procedure, I nearly had a heart attack. Let me explain.



Yikes! It's like little worms coming to life! Slightly disturbing, but way fun all the same. As you can imagine, once fully inflated, they make popping sounds when you bite down on them with your tongue and mouth. The taste? Compared to caviar they are less salty and bigger; compared to ikura (salmon roe) they are smaller and contain less liquid; kazunoko (herring roe) is much more rubbery than umi budo whereas tobiko (flying fish roe) is way more crunchy. Hmm, I managed to almost completely squirt skirt around the flavor issue. They definitely lack the flavorpunch that most of these caviar deliver, but they are seaweed, afterall, not eggs.

But wait, wait! That is not to say they are boring, and in fact, they are very good, especially because you can dip them in various sauces to enjoy various flavors! With just the right amount of salty and fun texture, they make a great otsumami (or snack, usually accompanied by an alcohoic drink like beer). I eat them dipped in ponzu (a mixture of soy sauce and yuzu or sudachi citrus) but that already means you can try them with soy sauce and wasabi, plus I have heard of it being served over sushi rice as a donburi (rice bowl). This is definitely something worth trying--at least so you can say you have, and at most because you might even like it! In Tokyo, visit Okinawan restaurant Achi Ko Ko in the Shinbashi/Yurakucho area, where they serve 'em fresh (I'm guessing freshness is key with these little guys). And while there, order a glass of authentic Okinawan liquor to complete the otsumami experience: awamori is a 60-proof, distilled rice wine from the southern islands.

海ぶどう umi budo
いくら ikura
数の子 kazunoko
飛び子 tobiko
おつまみ otsumami
ポン酢 ponzu
ゆず yuzu
すだち sudachi
わさび wasabi
どんぶり donburi
泡盛 awamori

Achi Ko Ko (あちこーこー)
2-3-2 Yurakucho, Chiyoda-ku
T 03-3569-3480
http://www.little-okinawa.co.jp/achi-top.html

"Zelly"

Zelly is the phonetic vernacular of the international super star, jelly, in Japanese. (Of course no one spells it zelly, silly, but what the heck, I will.) I am a huge fan of anything remotely gelatinous, be it not too sweet (sorry, Jello-O) but better yet, slightly savory. Think: chilled consomme gelée over salad greens, or onsen tamago: fresh eggs simmered long and slow (and perhaps even relaxing in) a hot spring, or a simmering pot of hot water.

Ya, you heard me: the hot spring. Don't believe me? Check this out:

(Onsen tamago is my favorite and can be deliciously prepared at home and served on and in various dishes. I promise to talk about this in a future post soon.)

Yes, peeps, if it wiggles, Miss Ai giggles. I don't think I am being overly zealous in declaring my love for the buoyant and the chilled, a splash of flavor swirling in after the bounce of texture. And so, perhaps this is why Japanese zellies are high on my list of good things. Refreshing, satisfying, not terribly sweet and so often completely not what you expected. Take for example my morning cup of coffee...



..or is it actually my 4pm pick-me-up coffee zelly...



... made approximately six hours earlier with cold-brewed iced coffee mixed with gelatin?? Pour some coffee cream over the jiggly substance, and you've got yourself an afternoon delight. (And if you don't think zellies are the best thing ever, I will fightchu. No lie.)

The popular Kyoto tea house and dessert company Tsujiri often turns traditional Japanese teas like hojicha and matcha into delicious zelly (see the first photo of this post for hojicha zelly). (What this requires of us, readers, at home, is to brew that perfect cup and include a dallop--just one--of honey. Mix with gelatin, and chill.) What's more, Tsujiri features seasonal specials every month, like the sakura parfait (cherry blossom parfait) which was available in April this year. The sweet and slightly salty sakura zelly (salty because the cherry blossoms are often treated with a saline solution to help preserve it) and the bittersweet matcha zelly make this parfait what parfaits were born to be--a very special treat, of course--at ¥1,400 (about $10-12 USD).

(Click on the parfait photo for details.)

It's easy to make zelly at home--if you drink black tea, try mixing in gelatin with a fresh pot of Earl Grey tea; milky, if you prefer. If you like coffee, definitely try the cold-brewed iced coffee zelly. Have Japanese, chai or herbal teas lying around? Experiment to find your favorite consistency of gelatin--the hojicha zelly at the top of this post and the coffee zelly toward the bottom have completely different consistencies due to the difference in ratio of liquid to gelatin. Keep in mind that you must immerse the gelatin--powder or sheet gelatin--in water first, for about five minutes, to insure that it will melt in evenly with the liquid you are trying to gel, otherwise the outcome can get clumpy. If it tastes good as a cold liquid, it probably tastes good as zelly. (Don't quote me on that.) Experiment!

ゼリー jelly
温泉卵 onsen tamago
コーヒーゼリー coffee jelly
都路里 Tsujiri
ほうじ茶 hojicha
抹茶 matcha
桜 sakura

Tsujiri (都路里)
Caretta Shiodome B206, 1-8-2 Higashi-Shinbashi, Minato-ku
T 03-5537-2217
http://www.giontsujiri.co.jp/saryo/

The Avocado

I love the avocado...all 300 calories of it! You say 30 grams of fat? I say 13 grams of fiber. 13mg of sodium? Puh-leez, how about one-third of your daily intake of vitamin C, not to mention lots of vitamin B and folate? The avocado, worthy of such titles as the fertility fruit (the Aztecs) and the butter of the forest (the Japanese), claims a special place in the pits of many of our souls. And while I religiously prepare perhaps what is the best guacamole this side of...errr, well, at least my kitchen walls... I do utilize the emerald fruit to star in more than just my Mexican features. He's suave. He's international! He tastes good with lemon and salt. After all, he is silky-smooth, velvety-soft, and tough-skinned. The ambassador of gourmet. The diplomatic fruit. Oh avocado, your last name may as well be Pitt!


Yes, the avocado does often play a role in my--and many others'--Japanese cooking. It's said that a ripe avocado resembles the texture of toro--one of the most prized areas of flesh of the blue-fin tuna.


In fact, if you can't get your hands on the good stuff, purchase fresh but economical sashimi (not the toro, which is pink from the marbled fat, but the red flesh-only), and arrange the pieces over sushi rice. Scatter blocks of diced ripe avocado on top, and as you take a bite, close your eyes as the lean, red meat of the tuna does a back-flip to salute the mean green yummy machine and feel like what is in fact a ¥500 sashimi-don is a ¥2,000 toro delight!

One fantastic no-frills Japonization (ah yeah... is that a word?) of the creamy avocade is to slice it up and serve it sashimi-style--complete with a a dash of soy sauce in a sauce dish with a smother of wasabi on its rim. Accessorize with a frosty glass of beer. I tell you, avocado sashimi is the best thing that could accompany you for a Sunday night feature on TV, an elegant appetizer to your five-course meal or the dependable sidekick for the take-out-sushi-and-let's-watch-baseball (or whatever) night. Yes, as its emerald hue implies, the avocado is wicked.



アボガド　avocado
森のバター butter of the forest
刺身 sashimi (in the vernacular, it is often referred to as osashimi, which is a more polite way of saying sashimi.)