Japanese Cooking Quotes

“There are succulent loins of fatty pork fried in scales of thin bread crumbs and served with bowls of thickened Worcestershire and dabs of fiery mustard. Giant pots of curry, dark and brooding as a sudden summer storm, where apples and onions and huge hunks of meat are simmered into submission over hours. Or days. There is okonomiyaki, the great geologic mass of carbs and cabbage and pork fat that would feel more at home on a stoner's coffee table than a Japanese tatami mat.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“We start with a next-generation miso soup: Kyoto's famous sweet white miso whisked with dashi made from lobster shells, with large chunks of tender claw meat and wilted spinach bobbing on the soup's surface.
The son takes a cube of topflight Wagyu off the grill, charred on the outside, rare in the center, and swaddles it with green onions and a scoop of melting sea urchin- a surf-and-turf to end all others.
The father lays down a gorgeous ceramic plate with a poem painted on its surface. "From the sixteenth century," he tells us, then goes about constructing the dish with his son, piece by piece: First, a chunk of tilefish wrapped around a grilled matsutake mushroom stem. Then a thick triangle of grilled mushroom cap, plus another grilled stem the size of a D-sized battery, topped with mushroom miso. A pickled ginger shoot, a few tender soybeans, and the crowning touch, the tilefish skin, separated from its body and fried into a ripple wave of crunch.
The rice course arrives in a small bamboo steamer. The young chef works quickly. He slices curtains of tuna belly from a massive, fat-streaked block, dips it briefly in house-made soy sauce, then lays it on the rice. Over the top he spoons a sauce of seaweed and crushed sesame seeds just as the tuna fat begins to melt into the grains below.
A round of tempura comes next: a harvest moon of creamy pumpkin, a gold nugget of blowfish capped with a translucent daikon sauce, and finally a soft, custardy chunk of salmon liver, intensely fatty with a bitter edge, a flavor that I've never tasted before.
The last savory course comes in a large ice block carved into the shape of a bowl. Inside, a nest of soba noodles tinted green with powdered matcha floating in a dashi charged with citrus and topped with a false quail egg, the white fashioned from grated daikon.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“It starts with a thwack, the sharp crack of hard plastic against a hot metal surface. When the ladle rolls over, it deposits a pale-yellow puddle of batter onto the griddle. A gentle sizzle, as the back of the ladle sparkles a mixture of eggs, flour, water, and milk across the silver surface. A crepe takes shape.
Next comes cabbage, chopped thin- but not too thin- and stacked six inches high, lightly packed so hot air can flow freely and wilt the mountain down to a molehill. Crowning the cabbage comes a flurry of tastes and textures: ivory bean sprouts, golden pebbles of fried tempura batter, a few shakes of salt, and, for an extra umami punch, a drift of dried bonito powder. Finally, three strips of streaky pork belly, just enough to umbrella the cabbage in fat, plus a bit more batter to hold the whole thing together. With two metal spatulas and a gentle rocking of the wrists, the mass is inverted. The pork fat melts on contact, and the cabbage shrinks in the steam trapped under the crepe.
Then things get serious. Thin wheat soba noodles, still dripping with hot water, hit the teppan, dancing like garden hoses across its hot surface, absorbing the heat of the griddle until they crisp into a bird's nest to house the cabbage and crepe. An egg with two orange yolks sizzles beside the soba, waiting for its place on top of this magnificent heap.
Everything comes together: cabbage and crepe at the base, bean sprouts and pork belly in the center, soba and fried egg parked on top, a geologic construction of carbs and crunch, protein and chew, all framed with the black and white of thickened Worcestershire and a zigzag of mayonnaise.
This is okonomiyaki, the second most famous thing that ever happened to Hiroshima.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“Shigureni is a variety of stewed meat where ginger has been added to the traditional soy sauce-and-sugar simmering sauce.
Thick, sweet and accented with ginger's uniquely spicy tang, there are layers of flavor to please the tongue!
Light yet thick, tangy yet sweet... all the various flavors patter across the tongue like a short afternoon drizzle- thus its name, shigure, which means "fall shower."
"It's a dish renowned for its exceptionally deep and compelling flavors."
"Ooh, you just know it's gonna be good. That's Takumi-chi for ya! He's a master of both Italian and Japanese cooking!"”
― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 27 [Shokugeki no Souma 27]

“ What is Gosetsu Udon, you ask?
Meaning "snowy noodles," it is a local specialty from Kutchan, Hokkaido, one of the snowiest places on Earth!
The Kutchan region is a big producer of potatoes, and one of the most famous kinds they grow is the extra mealy and starchy Irish Cobbler Potato, also called Danshaku.
It's from that potato that Gosetsu Udon Noodles are made!
In fact, Gosetsu Udon Noodles are 95 percent starch!
First, boil the potatoes, and then peel them...
Mash them until they're smooth and fluffy...
Then add water, salt and flour to make the dough!
"There wasn't enough flour left for us to use. But thankfully...
... there were a few bags of this still available!"
Potato starch! That was meant to be used for dusting cutting boards and table surfaces when making handmade noodles!
It's not normally used as an ingredient in noodles... but as it's potato starch, that changes when it comes to potato noodles!
Acting as the glue holding the noodles together, it also adds that extra starchiness for making the finished noodles that much chewier! ”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 21 [Shokugeki no Souma 21]

“One day we strolled down the Philosopher's Path, which proved as enchanting as I had hoped in the fragrant pink bloom of spring. Since ancient times, the Japanese have heralded the arrival of the cherry blossoms because they symbolize the ephemeral beauty of life.
But it isn't just the three or four days of open flowers that stirs the senses. It is their arrival and departure. Looking at a bud about to burst open offers the pleasurable anticipation of rebirth, while the soft scattering of petals on the ground is often considered the most beautiful stage of all because it represents the death of the flowers.
Another day I took John to one of my tea kaiseki classes to watch the making of a traditional picnic to celebrate the arrival of the cherry blossoms. While he sat on a stool near my cooking station, Stephen and I cooked rice in water flavored with kelp, sake, and light soy, then packed it into a wooden mold shaped like a chrysanthemum. After tapping out the compact white flower, we decorated it with two salted cherry blossoms.
We wrapped chunks of salted Spanish mackerel in brined cherry leaves and steamed the packets until the fatty fish turned milky in parts. We also made cold seafood salad, pea custard, and chewy millet dumplings, which we grilled over a charcoal burner until brown and sticky enough to hold a coating of ivory Japanese poppy seeds.”
― Victoria Abbott Riccardi, Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto

“While Mrs. Hisa steeped fresh fava beans in sugar syrup, Stephen dry-fried baby chartreuse peppers. I made a salad of crunchy green algae and meaty bonito fish cubes tossed with a bracing blend of soy and ginger juice. Mrs. Hisa created a tiny tumble of Japanese fiddleheads mixed with soy, rice vinegar, and salted baby fish.
For the horse mackerel sushi, Stephen skinned and boned several large sardine-like fillets and cut them into thick slices along the bias. I made the vinegared rice and then we all made the nigiri sushi. After forming the rice into triangles, we topped each one with a slice of bamboo grass, as if folding a flag.
Last, we made the wanmori, the heart of the tenshin. In the center of a black lacquer bowl we placed a succulent chunk of salmon trout and skinned kabocha pumpkin, both of which we had braised in an aromatic blend of dashi, sake, and sweet cooking wine. Then we slipped in two blanched snow peas and surrounded the ingredients with a bit of dashi, which we had seasoned with soy to attain the perfect whiskey color, then lightly salted to round out the flavor.
Using our teacher's finished tenshin as a model, we arranged most of the dishes on three polished black lacquer rectangles, first lightly spraying them with water to suggest spring rain. Then we actually sat down and ate the meal. To my surprise, the leaf-wrapped sushi, the silky charred peppers, candied fava beans, and slippery algae did taste cool and green.”
― Victoria Abbott Riccardi, Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto

“I can tell right away by looking at you what you want to eat," he says. "I can tell how many brothers and sisters you have."
After divining my favorite color (blue) and my astrological sign (Aquarius), Nakamura pulls out an ivory stalk of takenoko, fresh young bamboo ubiquitous in Japan during the spring. "This came in this morning from Kagumi. It's so sweet that you can eat it raw." He peels off the outer layer, cuts a thin slice, and passes it across the counter.
First, he scores an inch-thick bamboo steak with a ferocious santoku blade. Then he sears it in a dry sauté pan until the flesh softens and the natural sugars form a dark crust on the surface. While the bamboo cooks, he places two sacks of shirako, cod milt, under the broiler. ("Milt," by the way, is a euphemism for sperm. Cod sperm is everywhere in Japan in the winter and early spring, and despite the challenges its name might create for some, it's one of the most delicious things you can eat.)
Nakamura brings it all together on a Meiji-era ceramic plate: caramelized bamboo brushed with soy, broiled cod milt topped with miso made from foraged mountain vegetables, and, for good measure, two lightly boiled fava beans. An edible postcard of spring. I take a bite, drop my chopsticks, and look up to find Nakamura staring right at me.
"See, I told you I know what you want to eat."
The rest of the dinner unfolds in a similar fashion: a little counter banter, a little product display, then back to transform my tastes and his ingredients into a cohesive unit. The hits keep coming: a staggering plate of sashimi filled with charbroiled tuna, surgically scored squid, thick circles of scallop, and tiny white shrimp blanketed in sea urchin: a lesson in the power of perfect product. A sparkling crab dashi topped with yuzu flowers: a meditation on the power of restraint. Warm mochi infused with cherry blossoms and topped with a crispy plank of broiled eel: a seasonal invention so delicious it defies explanation.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“First, a sizzling stone, the same one Toshio introduced to Ducasse years back. Today it's filled with rice and ginger juice and baby firefly squid, which crackle wildly as he tosses it all like a scalding salad and pushes it over to me. The squid guts coat the rice like an ocean risotto, give it body and funk, while the heat from the stone crisps the grains like a perfect bibimbap.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“Next comes chawan mushi, a delicate egg custard studded with wild mountain vegetables and surrounded by flowers from the bamboo forest. A dish as old as Kyoto itself.
Toshio plucks two sacs of cod milt from the grill, slides them off the skewer into a squat clay box filled with bubbling miso. He comes back a second later with a scoop of konawata, pickled sea cucumber organs. A dish as new as the spring flowers blooming just outside the window.
One by one, the market stars reappear on the plate.
A black-and-gold lacquered bowl: Toshio pulls off the top to reveal thin slices of three-year-old virgin wild boar braised into sweet, savory submission with Kyoto white miso and chunks of root vegetables.
Uni- Hokkaido and Kansai- the first atop a wedge of taro root dusted with rice flour and lightly fried, the other resting gently on a fried shiso leaf. Two bites, two urchins, an echo of the lesson in the market this morning.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“He's on to sashimi now, fanning and curling slices of snapper and fugu into white roses on his cutting board. Before Toshio can plate the slices, Shunichi reaches over and calmly replaces the serving plate his son has chosen with an Edo-era ceramic rectangle more to his liking.
Three pieces of tempura- shrimp, eggplant, new onion- emerge hissing and golden from the black iron pot in the corner, and Toshio arranges them on small plates with wedges of Japanese lime. Before the tempura goes out, Shunichi sneaks in a few extra granules of salt while Toshio's not looking.
By now Dad is shadowing his son's every move. As Toshio waves a thin plank of sea cucumber eggs over the charcoal fire, his dad leans gently over his shoulder. "Be careful. You don't want to cook it. You just want to release its aroma."
Toshio places a fried silverfish spine on a craggy ceramic plate, tucks grated yuzu and sansho flowers into its ribs, then lays a sliver of the dried eggs over the top. The bones shatter like a potato chip, and the sea cucumber detonates in my mouth.”
― Matt Goulding, Rice, Noodle, Fish: Deep Travels Through Japan's Food Culture

“This is beef short ribs marinated in miso.
First you mix hatchō miso and Sendai's red miso with sake.
Then you place the short ribs in the mixture; they should be left to marinate for a day or so.
Then you take the ribs out and grill them over a charcoal fire."
"Miso and beef are a great match, aren't they?
It's a pity that people in other countries don't know about miso.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Sake

“You're going to make the broth for the ramen with katsuobushi?"
"The chicken you used to make the broth for the ramen is a broiler, right? In that case, it's better to make it with katsuobushi."
"But the ramen's going to end up smelling like fish."
"Don't worry about it.
I mince some garlic, chives, shiitake mushrooms, and onion...
... and fry them together with ground pork in sesame oil.
Then I add some hatchō miso that's been mixed with sake...
... to make miso-flavored mince meat.
I pour the katsuobushi dashi onto the noodles. I've given the dashi a light soy sauce flavor.
Then I place the meat on top...
... and sprinkle a lot of chopped green onion on it...
... and you've got Oishinbo-style miso ramen!"
"Wow! It really does go well with the katsuobushi! It doesn't smell fishy at all!"
"The scents of the sesame oil, garlic and miso...
... complement the scent of the katsuobushi nicely!
Ramen broth is usually made from chicken and pork bones.
I never thought of using fish!”
― Tetsu Kariya, Ramen and Gyoza

“I thought you said these were Chinese-style noodles...
...so I was expecting something with pork spareribs on top.
The fish dumpling noodles in Hong Kong are good...
but I've never seen anything like this in China.
What's this on the top?"
"Barbecued pork made from Berkshire boar, and jakoten."
" 'Jakoten'? "
"It's a specialty from the Shikoku prefecture. They're fish cakes made from ground sardines and deep-fried in oil.
They're nutritious and taste good too."
"Sardines, is it?"
"Ah, this barbecued pork is completely different from Chinese-style barbecued pork!"
"And this soup?"
"I made the stock with pork bones and flying fish yakiboshi...
... and boosted the flavor with some miso and soy sauce.
I don't use any MSG in it."
"Hmm... the combination of pork bones and yakiboshi isn't something that a Chinese chef would have thought of."
"I've never tasted a soup like this before!"
"The noodles have no kansui in them. After kneading the dough with eggs...
... I let it rest for a whole week."
"Mmm... they're firm and flavorful!"
"I haven't seen noodles like this in China either!"
"The aged noodles taste so good!”
― Tetsu Kariya, Ramen and Gyoza

“Good eggplants are hard to find these days. It's because the eggplants don't get fully ripe because of the pesticides and herbicides."
"This isn't just about Hitoshi. Anybody who eats this bad eggplant...
... will come to think that eggplant doesn't taste good at all.
Eggplant and oil are a perfect match. Let me make you a dish that even the greatest eggplant hater will like.
Pour sesame oil into the wok. Eggplant soaks up a lot of oil, so pour a lot in.
Once the oil is heated, cut the eggplant into thin slices of about a quarter inch.
You want to carefully stir-fry the eggplant trying to make every slice soak up the oil, but you also have to be fast at it. Keep the flame at high heat.
It's done when the eggplant starts to get soft and brown.
If you cook it too much, the skin gets hard, so be careful.
Now you pour some soy sauce on top of it.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Vegetables

“Ah! Green asparagus, my favorite! "
"I stir-fried it with crab meat. I quickly stir-fried the green asparagus and mixed the crab guts with dashi and put that in there as well...
... and finally seasoned it with salt and pepper and thickened the sauce slightly with starch."
"I love its fresh spring vegetable-like flavor!"
"I stir-fried it in a very mild soy oil...
... and I didn't use any Chinese broth made from chicken bones and Chinese ham. I used dashi taken from katsuobushi and konbu.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Vegetables

“Kabayaki-style means brushed with sauce, skewered on sticks, and then grilled over charcoal.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Vegetables

“Look at the way the rice is shining... it looks like jewels. Each grain of rice retains its original shape... and they're all the same size too. It's stickiness and scent... it's been washed to perfection. Washing the rice just to rinse off the dirt and excess bran without wasting the flavor and scent of the rice is extremely difficult.
I made my fortune before the war at the rice market... I still find time to do research on rice. I'm sure I can figure out what this rice is and where it comes from...
It's Sasanishiki... but it's not from Miyagi. It's Shonai rice, from Amarume-Yamagata prefecture! Well?! "
"That is correct!"
"Wow... he guessed the type of rice and where it came from!"
"I don't believe it!"
"This rice has been dried under sunlight, not by machine--- and you milled it right here, just before washing it, didn't you?"
You cook it over an old-fashioned furnace using firewood for fuel... and just before steaming it, you throw a handful of straw into the fire if you want to cook rice like this."
"Yes."
"Then this miso soup too...
Ah... it's real miso made from domestic soy and natural salt. The dashi is made from katsuobushi, an obushi from Makurazaki. And he used the good part in the center. And the tofu is made with domestic soybeans and real brine.
Aah... this is so good that it's making me cry!”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“It has such a warm and gentle flavor."
"The rice has soaked up the rich flavor of the scallops. Could you teach me how to make it?"
"Of course.
You mix soy sauce with sake and boil it, then place the scallops in it and cook it for about a minute.
After that, you take the scallops out, place them on a different plate, and start cooking the rice.
And when cooking the rice, you pour the broth you used to cook the scallop into the rice.
You won't get the full flavor if you don't cook the black area called the midgut gland together with the scallop. Once the rice is cooked, you put it on a plate and place the scallops on top. That's when you take the midgut gland off."
"Keep the midgut gland on when cooking the scallops, and take it off when mixing them into the rice. That must be the secret.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“Hmm. A grilled miso rice ball and a grilled soy sauce rice ball...
But what is this covered in dried seaweed?"
"When we think about the rice ball and its connection to the Japanese climate and culture, the existence of fermented food is something we can't ignore. Eating fermented food on a daily basis is a unique trait of the Japanese culinary culture.
The most famous of the fermented foods are the soy sauce and miso. Seasonings that the Japanese diet cannot do without.
We coated one of the rice balls with soy sauce and the other with miso...
... and grilled them over charcoal."
"The slightly burnt scent of the soy sauce is so appetizing."
"The grilled fragrance of miso is irresistible to a Japanese person. And this we can only taste in the form of a rice ball too."
"Another fermented Japanese product that we must not forget about is natto. Natto is a little tough to put inside a rice ball as it is...
... so we've minced it along with diced green onions. It has been flavored with soy sauce and Japanese mustard.
And to add some punch to it, we coated the rice ball with roasted shredded seaweed. By shredding it, the flavor of the dried seaweed becomes far better than just coating the rice ball with a sheet of it.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“The filling for the rice ball is the wasabi leaves and stem marinated overnight in soy sauce.
You make that into a rice ball using sushi rice...
... and wrap dried seaweed around it to create a rice ball the size of a ping-pong ball.
Meanwhile, you create a barazushi. Ingredients like grilled saltwater eel with sauce, kohada marinated in vinegar, kanpyo, steamed shrimp, steamed abalone and others...
...are all chopped up...
...and mixed into the rice.
Then use the small rice ball you made beforehand as the next filling...
... to create a larger rice ball.
And then you coat it with thin strips of grilled egg.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“The last one is a fun rice ball.
The filling is ground black sesame and walnuts flavored with sweet honey. We made a rice ball out of that...
... and coated it with kinako soybean powder."
"Huh... a sweet rice ball."
"I've never seen a rice ball coated in kinako."
"Ha ha ha... this is fun."
"The black sesame and walnut isn't just sweet--- it also has a wonderful scent. Come to think of it, this really is the taste of Japan."
"The taste of good old Japan too."
"Sesame, walnut, powdered soybeans and honey. The combination of these sweet flavors...
It soothes the heart, doesn't it?"
"This really is like a dessert.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“The first one is red bean rice ball. Red beans and sticky rice were often steamed together to create red bean rice on celebratory occasions. It was considered to be a feast in the olden days.
Many areas in Japan still carry on the tradition of making red bean rice whenever there is something to celebrate. In that sense, I think you can say red bean rice is deeply rooted in the Japanese soul."
"That's right. I made red bean rice along with other foods when the framework of my house was completed."
"It feels very festive for some reason."
"I like the salt and sesame seasoning on it."
"The next is a hijiki rice ball. You cook the rice together with the hijiki, thin fried tofu and carrots...
...flavor it with soy sauce and make a rice ball with it.
The hijiki rice is the typical Japanese commoners' food that mixes riches from the sea and the soil together. A rice ball made of hijiki rice is one of the original Japanese foods with a long continuing history."
"Aaah. This brings back memories."
"It makes us realize that we're Japanese. It's a flavor we must not lose."
"The last rice ball of the past is dried seaweed. Dried seaweed is one of the most familiar seaweeds to the Japanese, apart from konbu, wakame and hijiki.
And the way to fully enjoy the taste of the dried seaweed...
... is to make seaweed tsukudani and use that as the filling for the rice ball.
For the tsukudani, you simmer top-quality dried seaweed in sake and soy sauce. Once you learn its taste, you will never be satisfied with eating the dried seaweed tsukudani that's commercially available."
"It tastes nothing like that one we can buy at the market."
"It's refreshing, yet has a very strong scent of seaweed."
"It's interesting to see the difference in flavor of the tsukudani filling and the seaweed wrapping the rice ball."
"Red bean rice, hijiki rice and dried seaweed tsukudani rice balls...
These are flavors that will never fade away as long as the Japanese are around.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“The first one is paella-style takikiomi gohan rice ball. You chop up white meat fish, clams, shrimp and squid and fry them in olive oil with garlic and saffron. And in a different pan, you fry finely chopped tomatoes, onions and green pepper in olive oil.
You mix those two together and cook them with rice using a broth made from beef shank and chicken bones.
Then you make that into a rice ball...
... and wrap it in Parma ham."
"Oh my! It sure is something to make a paella-style takikomi gohan into a rice ball."
"But when it's wrapped in Parma ham, they match perfectly."
"It's completely Western, but it still tastes like a rice ball."
"This is a surprise. And the judges seem to like it too."
"Next is a rice ball coated in pork flakes. This is a pork flake you often see in Chinese cooking. You cook the lean pork meat in soy sauce seasoned with star anise until it becomes flaky.
The filling inside is Dongpo pork--- a Chinese dish made of pork belly that's been slowly braised."
"Ooh, the soft Dongpo pork came out as I bit into the rice coated in the sweet and salty pork flakes!"
"Ah, the flavor and texture are superb!"
"This combination is just wonderful! "
"You've made Dongpo pork into such a great rice ball, it's making me cry. It looks Chinese, but it's very much a Japanese rice ball."
"Now the judges are taking his side..."
"And the last is a deep-fried chicken rice ball. You deep fry chicken that has been marinated in soy sauce with ginger and garlic...
...and then use that as the filling of the rice ball...
... then coat it in red shiso seasonings."
"Ah, the rich taste of the deep-fried chicken is something the young people will like. And the red shiso seasoning creates a refreshing aftertaste.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“The first one is stewed hard clam. You stew the hard clam in soy sauce until it's rather salty...
... and then you place it inside the rice ball...
... and wrap it with dried seaweed."
"Huh, stewed hard clam?"
"Stewed hard clam is what you eat in sushi, right? Why's that the future?"
"Next is a matsutake rice ball. You cook the matsutake you picked during the season and simmer it until it's salty...
... then preserve it. That becomes the filling for the rice ball."
"The scent and flavor... it brings back the joy of being Japanese."
"It's good... but why is this the rice ball of the future?"
"The last one is a katsuobushi rice ball. You shave a katsuobushi from makurazaki as thinly as possible...
...then you flavor it with soy sauce...
... and place it into the rice ball.
Finally, wrap it in dried seaweed.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“There's caviar inside the prawn dumpling!"
"I used fresh live Japanese tiger prawns and minced the meat, then mixed it with an egg. I wrapped the caviar with it and fried it in peanut oil."
"The sweetness of the prawn and the rich taste of the caviar complement each other! Nice work, Yuichi!"
"Ah, no..."
"There are various kinds of fried prawn dumpling dishes, but it was Yuichi's idea to wrap caviar in it. He got all the ingredients and made it himself on his day off."
"Tayama senpai created this?"
"Yuichi, make something else for us."
"Please let me off the hook now."
"Yuichi, make the scallop rice."
"Master!"
"Just do it."
"The rice has been steamed and lightly flavored with dashi and soy sauce. I basted the scallop with a mop sauce made from sake and soy sauce, and grilled the outside but left the meat half-cooked. Then I placed the scallop onto the rice just before it finished steaming--- steam it for a moment, and it's done."
"Aah! The flavor of the scallop has seeped into the rice, but the scallop itself still retains its flavor too. This only works if you perfectly calculate how long to grill the scallop and how long to steam it on the rice."
"He saw me making steamed clam rice...
... and that's where he got the idea to place the teriyaki scallop instead of the clams on top of the rice."
"The fact that you made the scallop into a teriyaki was a nice touch."
"This is great ."
"One more dish, Yuichi!"
"Oh, please..."
"Yuichi, I've got some engawa. You want me to help?"
"No way. I'll do it myself!
I wrapped young spring onions with the engawa of a left-eyed flounder, brushed on a mop sauce made from soy sauce and sake, and grilled it lightly. Please sprinkle some powdered Chinese pepper or shichimi onto this, if you want to."
"Yum! The scent of the grilled spring onion and engawa draws out my appetite."
"I took Yuichi to a restaurant that cooked garlic chives wrapped with eel dorsal fins...
...and Yuichi said he wanted to try it with left-eyed flounder engawa and young spring onions."
"I thought it would be a waste to grill the engawa, but it turned out surprisingly good when he made it that way.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food

“And the last one is the chicken-skin hot pot. The best parts of a chicken to eat are the skin and the innards. There are many ways of cooking them, but this chicken-skin hot pot is easy to make, and it tastes great.
First you heat the pot, place the chicken inside...
... and slowly cook it inside the pot.
Once the oil from the skin comes seeping out, you add the innards to the pot. You basically use the oil from the skin to stir-fry the innards.
After the innards have been slightly cooked, you add some spring onions which have been cut around two inches long...
...and finally add sake and soy sauce to it.
The oil from the chicken skin and soup from the innards have not been thinned down with any kind of broth or dashi, so the young people will love its rich, strong taste and scent. And anybody can make it once they see it being made.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food

“Is this a potato? It's so smooth! It doesn't have that muddy, earthy smell to it! It's not fluffy or dry, and it just melts away in my mouth!"
"This is 'potato stewed in butter.' It's a dish I learned from Ajihyakusen, an izakaya in Sapporo.
For the soup, you use the ichiban-dashi of a katsuobushi. That way you won't waste the scent of the potato.
And for ten potatoes, you place half a pound of salted butter into the dashi...
...flavor it with a very slight amount of salt and sugar, and stew it over extremely low heat.
In about forty minutes, the potatoes will start to float in the dashi. If you keep boiling the potatoes, they'll sink again and then come floating back up in two and a half hours.
All you need to do after that is to boil it for about thirty more minutes, and it's done."
"Then you boil it for almost four hours total?"
"Right. It takes a whole day to cook this, so even though this dish only costs 600 yen, you have to order at least a day in advance to eat it at the izakaya.
The dishes Kurita and I made the other day were all made to your order. They were dishes that avoided the true nature of the potato. But this is a dish that draws out the full taste of the potato in a very straightforward way.
By cooking the potato for several hours over low heat, the flavor of the potato seeps out into the dashi, and when that happens, the unique muddy smell of the potato disappears. The potato can be easily broken apart in the soup, and it melts away on your tongue."
"That's the biggest difference from the other potato dishes."
"You can taste the true flavor of the potato with it.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food

“First I shell the oysters, then coat them with flour...
... and I deep-fry that. I make a sauce with soy sauce, ground sesame, sesame oil, chili pepper and some mirin. And I dip the oysters in the sauce.
Here you are. Give it a try. Deep fried oysters and kimchi over rice!"
"Ah, this smells great! "
"Let's eat!"
"Ooh! The oysters have been fried perfectly! They're soft and when you bite into them, the juice comes spurting out...
... and the flavor of the oyster combined with the sourness and spiciness of the kimchi creates a wonderfully complex taste!"
"Yeah! The deep-fried oysters go great with the kimchi!"
"It would have been a bit heavy with just the fried oysters...
... but the hot and sour flavor of the kimchi makes this very tasty!”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food

“Kabayaki-style means brushed with sauce, skewered on sticks and then grilled over charcoal. For a Tokyo-style eel kabayaki, the eel is split open from its back, grilled without the sauce, steamed and then grilled again with the sauce. For the Kansai-style, the eel is split open from its stomach, and then grilled right away without being steamed.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Izakaya: Pub Food