Japanese Cooking - Contemporary & Traditional (27 page)

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Authors: Miyoko Nishimoto Schinner

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BOOK: Japanese Cooking - Contemporary & Traditional

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Topped with the ubiquitous bottled tonkatsu sauce, a large heap of refreshing shredded raw cabbage (upon which the same brown sauce is poured), and a bowl of rice, a simply prepared hearty meal is ready
.

Deep-Fried Pork, Vegan-Style

Tonkatsu

1 recipe Vegetarian “Pork,” facing page

Flour for dredging

1 to 1½ to cups soymilk

3 to 4 cups
panko
(Japanese crispy, dry bread crumbs used for deep-frying), or homemade fine breadcrumbs

Oil for deep-frying

Tonkatsu
sauce (a thick, Worcestershire-type sauce made from vegetables, fruit, sugar, and salt, available in Japanese food stores)

Dredge each piece of the cooked seitan in the flour. Dip in the soymilk, then dredge in the breadcrumbs to coat thoroughly. Heat the oil in a fryer or wok until a small piece of the seitan dropped into it rises quickly to the top. Fry the breaded slices in the oil until golden brown on both sides; it will be necessary to turn them over after a couple of minutes. Remove to drain on paper towels several layers thick or on brown paper. Slice each piece into 1-inch wide sections. Ideally, place on a plate next to a large heap of very finely shredded raw cabbage. Serve while hot topped with tonkatsu sauce.

The Japanese are proud of their salmonella-free pork that can be served medium rare as a breaded and deep-fried popular specialty called tonkatsu. Of course, this is not anything I’m proud of
.
In fact, pork chops were the last piece of meat my mother put before me when I became a vegetarian. (I refused to eat them
,
seeing a dead pig, of course.) However, Tenmi, a natural food restaurant in Tokyo that I frequented, served a vegan version of this using kofu (wheat gluten) that provided my vegetarian palate with the same sense of rich satisfaction that the meat counterpart gives most Japanese.

Fermented Soy Beans

Natto

“Can you eat natto?” is a question a Japanese will often pose to test a foreigner who seems intrepid in his relentless quest to conquer things Japanese. And all too often, even the foreigner who is conversant in Japanese, has a black belt in karate, and has mastered the art of bowing, may admit that he, however, cannot stomach natto. Clearly, I have not provided a very good introduction to one of my favorite foods. However, if ever a food can be described as an acquired taste, I suppose natto may lead the pack. With a distinct smell some liken to a strong cheese and a sticky, slightly slimy texture, many who are introduced to it in adulthood find they have no taste for it.

Still, a hardcore following of natto lovers enjoy it prepared in numerous ways, but most often poured over a bowl of steaming hot rice. For some reason, young children seem to love it; for all three of mine, it was love at first bite, and they will eat it out of the package today. And of course, there are those foreigners who smile broadly when asked the question and reply,
“Dai-suki desu!”
(“I love it!”).

Natto is served either cold or at room temperature over hot rice. It is also great in hand-rolled sushi, especially with a leaf of shiso. Packed with nutrition, digestive enzymes, and “friendly” bacteria, it takes only a few seconds to prepare and makes an excellent instant meal over rice. Natto made from small beans is tastier and more tender than that made from large beans; ask the store owner if you cannot read the Japanese on the package. Also, there is a natto called
hiki-wari
or minced natto that is also excellent.

Natto

One 3-ounce package natto 1 teaspoon soy sauce ½ teaspoon Japanese mustard paste (optional) 1 to 2 scallions, chopped (optional)

Mix the natto with the soy sauce and mustard, then mix in the scallions. It will get stretchy and form “threads.” Serve over hot rice.

Yield: 1 to 2 servings

Mushroom Doria

On a typical “café” lunch menu in Japan, one will often encounter dishes such as rice pilaf, gratin, and sandwiches, all Japanese adaptations of Western dishes. In addition to these, a dish called
doria
frequently appears. I am not sure what the origins of this seemingly Western dish is, although I suspect that it is genuinely Japanese. Many Japanese, however, think it is an American dish, although I have yet to meet an American who has heard of a
doria.
I suspect it has roots similar to chop suey, a seemingly Chinese dish that was supposedly invented in San Francisco. A
doria
is a gratin of rice covered with vegetables, seafood, or meat in bèchamel (white sauce). It actually makes a tasty combination, despite the suspicious origins.

With a tasty white sauce (made with a rich soymilk, of course), almost anything can be thrown into a doria. Although I have used a combination of mushrooms here (accented by some baby spinach) a variety of other vegetables such as asparagus, peas, broccoli, carrots, and tasty meat alternatives, such as slices of tofu hot dogs or bits of vegetarian sausage, can be substituted. Armed with the following recipe for a tasty white sauce, the doria is a loosely knit recipe that can be adapted in a variety of ways befitting the ingredients on hand. It also presents a wonderful opportunity to recycle leftover cooked vegetables and rice and transform them into a creative one-dish meal.

Mushroom Doria

Thick Bechamel (White Sauce)

3 tablespoons canola oil

½ onion, chopped

7 tablespoons flour (preferably all-purpose unbleached)

2 cups hot soymilk (Vitasoy Creamy Original is recommended)

Salt, to taste

1 to 2 dashes white pepper

Several pinches freshly grated nutmeg

2 tablespoons white wine (optional)

Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Add the onion, lower the heat, and cover. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is soft. Add the flour and stir with a wooden spoon until the flour turns white. Whisk in the hot soymilk all at once. You will find that using a hot liquid will thicken the sauce almost immediately and will not form lumps. If you have forgotten to heat your soymilk, add it slowly in a steady stream, whisking continuously; otherwise, it will form lumps. Cook until thickened, stirring almost constantly. Season with salt, white pepper, several gratings of fresh nutmeg, and the white wine, if desired.

To make the Doria:

1 pound mushrooms, a mixture of 8 ounces button or crimini mushrooms, quartered, 4 ounces shiitake mushrooms, sliced, and 4 ounces oyster mushrooms, torn by hand into individual mushrooms, or 1 pound button mushrooms, quartered

2 cups loosely packed baby spinach leaves

1 to 2 tablespoons oil or cooking spray

Salt and pepper, to taste

Approximately 4 cups cooked short-grain white or brown rice, warm or hot

Heat the oil over high heat (preferably in a nonstick pan), and add the mushrooms so that there is no more than one layer in the pan. Cook them on high heat, tossing or stirring them, until they brown. (Crowding them will make them watery and not brown.) Season with salt and pepper. Repeat with the remaining mushrooms, if necessary, depending on the size of your pan. Before you remove the last bunch of mushrooms from your pan, add the spinach and cook momentarily, only allowing it to wilt. Combine the mushrooms and spinach with the bèchamel sauce. Distribute the rice into four oiled gratin or small casserole dishes. Top with the mushroom and sauce mixture.

Place in a preheated 400°F oven, and bake for about 15 to 20 minutes, or until the sauce is bubbly and hot. If desired, sprinkle a few breadcrumbs on top, and stick under the broiler to brown. Serve immediately.