Miso Ramen with Poached Egg and Spinach

Unlike many students who were forced - out of poverty - to subsist on a diet of dehydrated ramen noodles throughout their university years, I was lucky enough to live at home and, you know, eat healthily. That's not to say that I didn't have the occasional msg and sodium laden convenience product. My brother and I would regularly split a package when we watched WWE Raw that we would stir fry with veggies instead of turning it into soup.

Yes, I said WWE. I love Shakespeare, Jane Austen and the WWE. I also play video games. It weirds my students out to no end, but I like to say that my interests don't fit into nice, neat boxes.

The first time I went out and ate ramen noodles outside of my house was in my husband's town in Japan. There was a great shop in Toki-shi along Route 19 that served the most gloriously gigantic bowls of noodles. The first time we ate there, it was a painfully chilly, rainy Sunday night in November. The rain was pounding umbrellas with icy fury and we were both exhausted. We'd come back from Nagoya and with a long line at our regular Sunday night sushi joint, we decided to brave the vicious weather and try somewhere new.

Let me tell you, ramen is the perfect antidote to combat the bone chilling rain of an autumn storm. When your monster sized bowl arrives, you're immediately bathed in steam from the broth. On first bite, the noodles are so hot you almost burn your tongue, but you slurp them down anyway. And then, as you begin spooning the salty broth into your mouth, a warmth uncurls itself in your belly and begins to radiate throughout your limbs.

Frankenstein's monster could have been brought to life with ramen. If he had been, he probably would have been in a much better mood.

That first night, I had miso-butter ramen with corn, an egg, and bamboo shoots. And though I tried many other different varieties in my time there, I always returned to the comfort of miso ramen to warm myself.

I don't make ramen much for myself these days - only a handful of times for those chilly days in autumn and winter. The dehydrated stuff just doesn't do it for me. Luckily, there's a company in the GTA (Marufumi Foods) that makes fantastic fresh ramen and freezes it. Their stock base is a miso based paste, not a powder. If you can get hold of fresh or frozen ramen, you're working in a whole new ballpark of awesome.


Miso Ramen with Poached Egg and Spinach

(serves 1)

Ingredients

1 package ramen with seasoning mix (preferably miso)
1 tbsp white vinegar
1 egg
1 handful baby spinach leaves
shichimi, or chili-garlic paste to taste


Directions

1. Cook ramen according to package directions. Meanwhile, bring a pot with 1" water in it to a boil. Add vinegar and reduce heat to a gentle simmer. Crack egg into a small dish and slide into simmering water. Cook for 1-2 minutes or until your desired doneness.

2. Add spinach leaves to ramen and broth. Cook for 30 seconds, just until wilted. Ladle into a large bowl. Remove egg from poaching water with a slotted spoon and place on top of noodles. Sprinkle with shichimi to taste.

Seven Years Ago Today (A Haiku)

Autumn city, my

imagination captured

in breathless embrace

The Golden Pavillion

The boat house of the Golden Pavillion

Temple in Nara

My husband and I seven years ago. I wish I was still that skinny!

Last week, during Saturday's drama class, we were focused on the topic of home. We talked, and talked about where we'd been and how many places we've called home (my count: 14).

But, we really got to sharing stories of what it was like to move away from home. And, although I moved out of my parents' house a year before I left for Japan, I feel like I really didn't leave home until I left the country.

I only have a few pictures of those first few months in Japan - for some reason, at that time, I didn't realize that you needed a large memory card to take pictures, so I could only take 12 at a time. The ones I've posted today were of my first trip (of many!) to Kyoto back on October 22nd, 2004. We went with friends and explored the city and, I remembered thinking to myself that this was what my life was supposed to be like. Adventure and exploration and beauty.

Also on this trip, in the lobby of our guest house (yes, I still remember where we stayed!), we met a mid-30s American man who'd arrived in Kyoto the previous day and hooked up with a prostitute in a love hotel ("I didn't think either would cost so much!"). He'd run out of money and had only brought his debit card (bad idea, as the bank machines are on incompatible networks).

I'll be honest, I didn't feel particularly sorry for him.

I believe he decided to cut his trip short and head home early.

So, now we've circled back around to home. Tell me, can you remember all the places you've lived? Were some of them more home than others? What place was the first place you remember being your own home?

Tsukune (つくね): an izakaya favourite

Whenever Phil and I went to Daikichi's in his town Tokishi, there were a few standard dishes that we often ordered. And, because it was an izakaya (Japanese pub), it meant that there was lots of delicious food on sticks.

I really, really miss Daikichi's. In fact, about a year ago (almost to the day!), I said about the same thing.

It was a hole in the wall, the guys who ran the place smoked over the food as they grilled it, its tiny booths and stools were often packed with drunk salarymen and attractive young women (who were probably not their wives) and we enjoyed copious amounts of sake, beer and meat on sticks.

We occasionally got eggplant and onion too... but mostly we ordered meat on sticks.

Until recently, I haven't tried to recreate Daikichi's. Anything I do won't live up to the memory in my mind.

Anyway, we always got the chicken-cheese (grilled chicken thighs with a cheese slice on top and special mildly spicy sauce) and the aspara-bacon (grilled bacon wrapped asparagus), and usually got another dish, tsukune.

I attempted those this week, and they're about as authentic as they're going to get given that:

a) I'm not chain smoking over the skewers and
b) I don't have a grill

Tsukune (つくね) are essentially very smooth chicken meatballs seasoned with ginger, sesame and green onion, dipped repeatedly in tare (垂れ) and grilled until dry in between dips. Tare is basically the awesome older brother of the insipid teriyaki sauce we have here.

When I moved to Japan and asked about buying teriyaki sauce in the grocery store, I was met by a round of blank stares. Ask for tare.

Better yet, don't buy it from the grocery store. It's dead easy to make.

Now, I like my tsukune well browned with the tare. Those found at Daikichi's tend to be less assertive. Also, I have yet to perfect the art of perfectly spherical meatballs.

Daikichi's tsukune

Anyway, you can see where the inspiration was and where I ended up, and frankly, I'm really happy with this recipe!

Here are a few pictures of our favourite joint:

A friend outside Daikichi

Inside our Daikichi's

My very young, red faced, and hairier husband fans the grilled goods.

I heard that, after we left Japan, the Daikichi's in Phil's neighbourhood closed down. Clearly our consumption of sake and food on sticks kept the place afloat!

Tsukune: Grilled Chicken Meatballs

(from Hiroko Shimbo's Japanese Kitchen)

Ingredients

1 lb ground chicken or turkey
½ tsp kosher salt
½ tsp finely ground black pepper
2 green onions, both green and white parts, minced
1½ tsp freshly grated ginger
1 egg white, lightly beaten
2 tsp sesame oil
1 tbsp canola oil
sansho pepper (optional)
tare sauce (recipe below)

Directions

1. Begin by soaking 8 bamboo skewers in water for 15 minutes. Set aside.

2. Using a food processor, pulse ground chicken until it forms a coarse paste. Add in salt and black pepper, and pulse again. Alternatively, you can use your hands to squeeze the mixture over and over again (we're talking a good 5 minutes or so) and it'll achieve similar results. Remove mixture from food processor, stir in ginger and green onions. Once they are evenly distributed, mix in the egg white and sesame oil. Divide the mixture into 16 evenly sized balls.

3. Heat 1 tbsp canola oil in a large, non-stick frying pan. Working in batches, cook tsukune for 1 minute or so on each side or just until they're white and firm. You don't actually want to finish cooking them at this stage; you'll finish them off either on the grill or beneath the broiler.

4. Heat the grill on medium high heat or turn on your oven's broiler, making sure the rack is placed about 3-4" below the element. While you're waiting for it to heat up, remove bamboo skewers from water, and thread 2 tsukune onto each. Once your cooking medium is hot, grill or broil the tsukune, for 1 minute. Flip over and repeat on the other side.

5. Once tsukune have been cooked on each side, flip again, and brush with tare. Place back on grill or under broiler and cook until dry, about 1 minute. Remove, flip and brush again with tare. Repeat this procedure once more on each side of the tsukune, ensuring the balls are dry before applying the next coating of tare.

Serve piping hot with a sprinkle of sansho pepper.

Tare: Basting sauce for Yaki-tori

Ingredients

¼ cup sake
1/3 cup + 2 tbsp mirin
1 tbsp granulated sugar
1/3 cup + 2 tbsp soy sauce

optional: add in one dried shiitake mushroom

Directions

1. In a small pot, bring sake and mirin to a boil. Add in the sugar. Cook, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Add the soy sauce (and the mushroom if using) and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes. Sauce will be thick and glossy. Remove mushroom (feel free to eat it, it's super tasty) and use right away or keep in the fridge for up to a month.

The Best Sushi...

... I've ever had was at the Tsukiji Fish Market (築地市場) in Tokyo.

The meal above cost 20$. I've never had fresher or more amazing sushi in my life... and I seriously doubt I ever will again. We ate it at 8:30 am at this tiny little shop on the outskirts of the market that seated no more than 8 people at any given time. Years later, the restaurant was profiled in The Guardian as part of their 50 Best Foods and Where to Get Them article.

Truth be told, we didn't know where we were eating at the time. We just walked in because there was a seat. The whole meal, all I could keep repeating was "Wow."

Also, while going through the pictures of that trip to Tokyo, I discovered that I once looked like this:

Hm. That blond hair definitely looks unnatural now... especially in the light of the train from Nakatsugawa to Nagoya.

Seriously, I look too young to have been living on my own for two years in a foreign country where I was illiterate.

Time is a cruel mistress, huh?

Longing for Spring

Last Friday, as I was walking back from an unsuccessful attempt to find freeze-dried strawberries from the St. Lawrence market, Toronto was in the throes of its first hint of spring.

It was 9 degrees and gorgeous.

Practically t-shirt weather, I tell you.

And now, with the threat of snow looming, all I can think about is this:

Sakura tree

 The picture above was taken in my tiny little Japanese village back in 2006. This particular tree was down the hill from my house.

I just love these double blossom sakura trees. They have these huge pink puffball blooms. Gorgeous.

While I loved the trees in my town, the most beautiful, magical cherry blossom experience though was, hands down, found in Kyoto.

The Philosopher's Walk

We had a picnic this trip along the river of the Philosopher's Walk. Crackers, wine, prosciutto, cheese (real cheese!), olives, cookies. It was heaven on earth; the perfect hanami party.

Hanami (花見) literally means flower viewing. In short, people go out to sit beneath the trees, eat lots of food and get quite drunk all in celebration of the fleeting beauty of the cherry blossoms. Lanterns get strung up, trees are illuminated. If you're watching the flowers at night, it's called yozakura (夜桜), which literally means night sakura. At this point, you'll probably see a few businessmen stagger down the streets singing at the tops of their lungs.

Even on a hazy day, Kiyomizudera looked pretty awesome.

Kiyomizudera

Kiyomizudera

But, best of all, was the night we arrived in Kyoto. The trees were in full blossom and totally illuminated. It was, hands down, one of the most magical, otherworldly experiences I've ever had.

I remember thinking to myself as we walked down the perfumed streets, blossoms gently falling in the wind, that this was what walking through Narnia must have felt like for Lucy. I don't know that I've ever felt so full of wonder and joy by a place.

A Post about Japan

Sunday's post about miso soup made me think about the few days it snowed in Sakashita, so I thought I'd share a few pictures with you from both winter 2005 and 2006 of Sakashita.

The path down from my house (which was beside a Shinto shrine) to the road:

Detail of one of the posts

Looking towards the steps that led up to the shrine

Kids walking to school with umbrellas:

View of the river, Kawa Ue:

Winding through the foothills on the bus:

A house in Kawa Ue (the town up the mountain from us):

It was beautiful.

Cold.

But beautiful.

When I think back to winter in Japan, I think of my clear Bodum teapot, that was almost perpetually full of vanilla tea leaves. I think of a kitchen, so icily cold, that when I'd get home from work, I'd still be able to see my breath. I think of the oily smell of my kerosene heater for my living room.

I think of the darkness and the stillness and the loneliness.

And then I think of the peace and the strength it took to get through those cold (zero degrees inside and outside!), dark nights.

In the classrooms, there would always be one kerosene heater on low, and I would do my best to huddle as close to it as possible. Forget the students! I needed heat! At lunch time, the miso soup was my favourite part of the meal - it was the only thing I could guarantee would be hot.

Even more than miso soup, I loved it when they served oden, which is this stew with all sorts of simmered goodness in it. It bubbles away on the stove for the better part of 3 hours, which should give you some idea of just how infused with flavour it is!

Reading Labels

So much better than Pocky!

A friend of mine has just gone off to Japan with JET, and I find myself reliving the experience vicariously through his blog. His discussion about grocery stores prompted me to head into my local Korean/Japanese grocery store. I love walking around the aisles, trying to figure out what everything is. I swear, the snack aisle alone could keep me occupied for hours. I keep hoping to find my favourite Calbee veggie sticks, but alas, in the last couple of years, I've had no luck. Oh! And Fran. It's like the rich man's Pocky. Their blueberry chocolate flavour was my favourite. One of the things I like about shopping in this store is I really don't know what I'm buying half the time.

When was the last time you went to your Loblaws or Sobey's and said that?

A few months back, I bought some dumplings  that I thought were pork and vegetable, but turned out to be kimchi tofu (and delicious). That's the kind of excitement (and unpredictability) that I miss about shopping in Japan. Believe it or not, being illiterate can have a strange upside. The simple act of grocery shopping was a ridiculous adventure. Overwhelming some days, for sure, but coming back to regular old grocery shopping has remained something of a downer for me. Where's the fun of knowing exactly what you're getting?

We mozied to the last aisle of the store, where I ogled over zojirushi rice cookers (WANT), and decided to pick up a few treats: an onigiri (tuna kimchi) for him and a danish with chopped up hotdog (topped with mayo, cheese and nori) for me (nostalgia will cause people to buy the strangest things). We stood around for a bit, trying to decipher the drinks in the refrigerated section, when I saw this gem of translation:

Need I say more?

Tasting Japan

I'm sitting at the computer eating breakfast right now. Fluffy white bread, peanut butter and grapes. And as all these flavours came together, I got an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. See, that was my first breakfast in my house in Japan (about this time of year, 6 years ago). The grapes were red and huge with tough skins and inedible seeds... but the most incredibly jammy flavour. The bread was inoffensive and thick (think Texas style), I could peel it apart to make weird looking layers. I have no memory of the peanut butter save that it melted into the toast.

My apartment was so hot, even in the early mornings of that summer, and I ate the exact same breakfast for weeks.

One of my real regrets about my time in Japan (other than leaving behind a very nice fruit bowl and a kiwi knife-spoon) is not learning how to cook Japanese food while I was there. Nope, I spent a bloody fortune on food from home instead of appreciating what I had in front of me. I used my nabe pot to make chili, I baked cookies in my microwave/convection oven, I held Christmas dinner for my students.

Of course, now I crave Japanese food all the time, and really, it's hard to find the random stuff I loved so much: the egg fried rice onigiri (Toki station's conbini), okonomiyaki (from the really dodgy place in Ena), kara age (from Senri in my town), oden (from my School Lunch Program [believe it or not]), zaru soba, ham and cucumber sandwiches laced with more mayo than you know what to do with (I didn't even love those, and yet, I still miss them), miso ramen.

The grass is always greener, isn't it?

Anyway, in my efforts to combat my missing Japanese food, I picked up a new cookbook: Washoku.

I want to make everything on this cover. I'd forgotten about the salmon I'd purchase from the grocery store. I used to buy the hijiki & carrot salad coming home from Ochiaigawa once a week (from this farmer's co-op). Man, I wish I'd bought more pottery as well!

I made umboshi (pickled plum) onigiri yesterday for lunch, using Andoh's rice cooking guide. I will never go back to just throwing things in the pot. The rinsing is such an important step! I cannot wait to tackle her ramen recipe this fall. And the tempura pancakes look awesome too.

Expect recipes from her!

Sight/Sound/Taste

It's insane to me to think this, but I moved to Japan almost six years ago to this week (it was July 24, 2004). About this time each year I start to get nostalgic for my time there: chicken-cheese from Daikichi, the sound of cicadas in the forest, the oppressive humidity of summer, the smell of cypress wood houses baking in the sun. Sometimes I'll get a whiff of something vaguely reminiscent of those three Julys and I'll be instantly transported back.

My Mum and I were talking about Japan when I was in Ottawa last week, and how it was, for me, probably the most defining time in my life to date. I think she's right - Japan was where I learned to be me.

As nerdy as I was in high school, my sense of self took a huge beating in university. Looking back on those years, I can't even begin to describe who I was then. Japan gave me the opportunity to rise and discover who I could be, if I wanted to. I made some mistakes along the way (especially during that first month - oh lord, I cringe to think of it), but I wouldn't change anything about my time there for the world.

In case you're curious: An International Incident

So as I was thinking back on those days, I decided to look up Sakashita on google. And low and behold, what was one of the first pictures to appear?

(photos by Melissa Chasse)

Check out my 25 year old self, with my 25 year old husband. Of course, he wasn't my husband yet. Turns out my friend Melissa's old blog had some appropriate tags! I hope she won't mind my borrowing them.

We're swimming in Kawa Ue, which was so cold, but SO gorgeous! That water was crisp - and so refreshing on those 45º+ days.

Check out this little area of the river called Dragon Falls:

(Melissa Chasse)

(Melissa Chasse)

And then I'll think to myself: I freaking lived there! That was 10 minutes from my house!

Dude.

In honour of Japan, I'm just going to throw out one of my favourite Japanese recipes after the jump: kinpira gobo