Sunday, November 13, 2011

Yuzenya, Oyama-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan

When I moved to the small city of Oyama in Japan to work at Hakuoh Daigaku (university), I'd already had some experience with Japanese cuisine—how could I not after having shared so many wonderful meals with my colleagues from Japan at the University of Hawai'i?—but I wasn't truly aware of just how wonderful Japanese food could be.

After I arrived in Oyama-shi, the man who recruited me took me to a tiny izakaya (roughly, pub) a short walk from the school. At that moment, I was more concerned with learning how to dine with people who were my seniors at Hakuoh than with the food, but my first bites were more than delicious enough to lure me back, and I soon became a regular, eating there two or three times a week. The couple who own the restaurant spoke as little English as I spoke Japanese, but were still capable of sharing their love of good food with grace and hospitality.

I slowly worked my way through much of the menu, posting pictures and descriptions on Flickr for my friends to see. The food wasn't haute cuisine, but I've never been a food snob: if it's delicious and well prepared, it's good enough for me.

As you'd expect, though I tried loads of dishes, there were a few standouts that I came back to again and again, including the one pictured on the left. There isn't anything I could say about the rice at Yuzenya that I wouldn't say about all Japanese white rice. When well prepared (and it almost always is), it is slightly sweet and just a bit nutty.

The pork cutlet, which never tasted greasy, was moist and tender inside it's crispy-crunchy panko shell, and was served with katsu sauce on the side. The combination of the textures of tender, juicy meat, crispy coating, and the deep fruit and spice notes of the sauce danced in my mouth with every bite. Even the salad was a revelation to me, mild onions, fresh and sweet, in a sesame dressing that I can't replicate. The miso soup, usually served with small, tender clams and mushrooms, and brightened with green onion, was a staple for me, not only for its wonderful flavor, but also because it had a bit more body than most miso soups. As always, the meal came with small dishes of seasonal vegetables, cooked delicately, or pickled, and they rounded out the meal well.

When most westerners think of Japanese cuisine they think of tofu, sashimi, sushi, and other low fat foods, but the Japanese have a gift for deep frying food, and the chef at Yuzenya is a master, not only for his cutlets, but also for his chicken karaage (ka-ra-a-gay), chunks of thigh meat seasoned with garlic, salt, or lemon, dredged in corn starch, and fried till absolutely mouth-wateringly tender and juicy. Unlike the flaky coating in most American versions of fried chicken, this coating stayed on the chicken and was crisp unlike anything I have ever eaten. In truth, I have never experienced anything quite like it at any Japanese restaurant anywhere. Anywhere. And I have tried. 

Another eye-opening morsel that I shall never forget was a seasonal delicacy that the chef offered me one day: hotaruika, or firefly squid. The squid was served apparently raw, though some say that it must be blanched. It was subtle, sweet, and unexpectedly delicious. When I bit into it, liquid the texture of creme anglaise burst in my mouth. I'm not sure what it was, but it was divine and tasted like savory plum. Squid ink?

The first few times I went to Yuzenya, I wondered if I was so impressed by it because it was truly remarkable, or because I simply hadn't had enough experience with Japanese food. Later, the answer to that question became clear. Even my Japanese friends who came to visit me from "away," as we say in Maine, wondered if this izakaya was as good as I had insisted. But when they tried it, they realized that I hadn't exaggerated. They confirmed that Yuzenya was truly an "ichiban" (number one) Japanese izakaya.

In short: Yuzenya is a great little restaurant in a small city, a restaurant most will not be lucky enough to find. The food is exceptionally well prepared, and in a world of fusion cuisine, eating traditional izakaya food is a delight. The service is great, too. Last I knew, the restaurant was in a new location, a brighter, larger place.

Food: ★★★★★ Ambience: ☆ Service:
Check, please: $$



Monday, November 7, 2011

Tsukune Onigiri and Pork-Fried Rice Onigiri (Japanese Rice Balls)

Onigiri, a Japanese convenience food, are balls of rice with something, often just salted plum, in the center. They can be served plain or rolled in nori, sesame seeds, or furikake, a blend of those ingredients and more. However they're prepared, they're easy to eat and a quick treat often picked up in 7-11 or Family Mart in lieu of a proper meal. Well, I was invited to a colleague's home for a potluck party a year or two ago, and couldn't decide what to bring. Usually, I wait till a mood strikes me, then make something from whatever I have on hand, but for this dish, I had to do a little shopping, but it was well worth the effort.

Of course, I couldn't simply replicate something I'd eaten before. Where would be the risk in doing that? I decided instead to merge onigiri with one of my favorite Japanese bar foods, tsukune, chicken meatballs. Here's what I did.


First, I minced fresh ginger, garlic, and scallions and mixed it with chicken that I had ground myself. I added some sesame oil and soy to the meat to give it a bit more flavor, though I probably didn't need to do this (see step two!). An egg yolk helped to bind it all together. I shaped the meat into tiny little balls about 3/4 of an inch in diameter, set them in a single layer on a cookie sheet, and chilled them covered in the fridge for about half an hour to make them easier to handle.


Second, I brought water to boil in a stock pot and added the ginger peels and some soy sauce to the water to enhance the flavor of the meatballs (or at least not to diminish their flavor!). I put the meatballs into the gently boiling water and cooked them until they floated to the surface, then drained them, storing them in the refrigerator as soon as possible. I had to cook them in batches, as I made enough for a party, but how long this takes will depend on how many you make.

While they cooled, I put some good Japanese rice into my rice cooker. It's important that you use short-grain Asian rice that gets sticky—no dry American rice here—or the balls will never stick together. After the rice finished cooking, I stirred it up to make it stickier. I didn't want the rice to cool completely; in fact, I wanted it to cool just enough for me to handle it. While it cooled, I put soy sauce, sesame oil, and katsu sauce in a skillet and cooked it down a bit till it thickened. After a quick roll around in the sauce, the meatballs looked as they do in the first picture.

By then, the rice had cooled just enough to handle, so I laid out a tray to put the finished onigiri on and set out a bowl of cold water to dip my hands into when they got sticky from the starch in the rice. I took a fistful of the still-hot sticky rice and flattened it in my palm, put a meatball in the center, and wrapped the rest of the rice around it. It was challenging at first to get just enough rice—too little, and it wouldn't form around the meatball; too much and the proportions would be wrong—but



after making a few, I got the hang of it. After all the onigiri were assembled, I rolled some of them in freshly toasted sesame seeds, then stacked them on a serving tray.

If you can't eat them right away, refrigerate them, but they taste best close to room temperature, so be sure to take them out of the fridge a bit early so they can warm up a bit. Don't reheat them, though, or they just might fall apart.
They were a big hit, and as far as I know, they are my own original fusion of two traditional Japanese foods.


The final picture is of onigiri I made using pork-fried rice in the center and white rice as the wrapper. They were delicious, but much milder in flavor than the tsukune onigiri. I rolled them in freshly toasted sesame seeds and shredded Korean nori, which has sesame oil and more salt than many Japanese nori, but you could buy furikake at the supermarket with whatever blend of sesame and seasonings you prefer.

Hmm... I think I need to make more of these this weekend!

Friday, November 4, 2011

Bubbies Mochi Ice Cream!

Ah, what can I say about Bubbies Mochi Ice Cream, sweet balls of ice cream wrapped in sheets of flavored mochi, other than that it is my favorite ice cream treat of all? A lot, apparently. When I moved to Honolulu for grad school, I had never heard of it, but friends took me to a little ice cream shop on University Avenue and introduced me to a treat unlike any I'd ever eaten before.

If you've never eaten mochi, it's sweet rice that's pounded until it's smooth and elastic. Traditionally made by hand for the Japanese New Year celebration, it can be served in a ball, grilled, or rolled out into a thin sheet and filled with a dollop of adzuki bean paste, or any of a number of fillings. It is a labor-intensive dish which is the foundation of countless sweets in Japan and other Asian countries. Though it can be an acquired taste for Westerners, as it isn't as sweet as most desserts here, it doesn't take people long to acquire a taste for mochi ice cream, especially the way they make it at Bubbies. I learned when I later lived in Japan that you can buy it at just about any convenience store, but cheap mochi ice cream just isn't as interesting or delicious as what they make in Hawai'i.

When you walk into the Bubbies on University Ave, you'll see a lot of frozen desserts in the display case, including some with unusual and provocative names, like "Eat Here - Get Gas" and "Hard-headed Woman," but most of the people in the line that often snakes out the door are waiting to choose from the long list of flavors of mochi ice cream including subtle and elegant treats like Sakura, a ball of vanilla ice cream wrapped in cherry-blossom flavored mochi, or bolder flavors like Chocolate/Espresso, espresso ice cream surrounded by chocolate flavored mochi. Whatever you choose, you won't be disappointed, but it's not just the flavor that makes mochi ice cream so appealing, it's the texture, as well.

If you take one straight out of the container, the exterior feels cold, hard, and a bit powdery, like corn starch, but after letting them soften a bit, they are perfect for eating. The mochi wrapper is stretchy and sticky, not ooey-gooey, sticky, but more like mini-marshmallow sticky, and you can sometimes get them to stick to your finger. The last time I was in Honolulu, I ordered several. You can see I already cut them in the picture. I bought all of my favorite flavors to share: green tea, mint oreo, strawberry, lychee, yuzu, and adzuki bean.

If you get to Honolulu, you have to stop by their shop, but if you don't have any plans to escape the mainland soon, check out the Whole Foods store nearest you. These balls of mochi ice cream are expensive, but they are a rare and unusual treat. If you're willing to pony up some serious loot, you can order them online. Last I checked, a large bag of 48 cost $80.