Untangling My Chopsticks (5 page)

The men on my left were doing the opposite. With their chopsticks, they were picking up pieces of sushi as big as Devil Dogs, dragging them through the soy, and cramming them into their gaping mouths. Their cheeks puffed up like trumpet players as they vigorously masticated their food.

Maybe chopsticks are for men and fingers for women? I wondered. That doesn't make sense. Then again, neither did many things in Japan until I took the time to figure them out. Years later I would discover that eating sushi with your fingers is an old Tokyo tradition. Chopsticks are for sashimi. Back when Tokyo was called Edo, sushi connoisseurs used to eat their fill of fish, then wipe their dirty fingers on the short split curtain hanging over the door of the sushi shop. The more gooey the curtain, the better the shop.

I would also learn that in former times, it was considered immodest for a Japanese woman to let anyone see the inside of her mouth, which explains why most Japanese women cover their mouths with their palm when they chew, smile, or laugh.

I used my chopsticks to eat the sushi, which was exquisitely fresh and flavorful. The sea urchin tasted so sweet and custardy it was like eating crème brûlée seasoned with essence of the ocean.

When I had finished dinner, the waiter brought over the check. I held out a credit card, but he shook his head. I fished out thirty dollars' worth of yen and placed the bills on the money tray. He carried them away.

When he returned with my change, the tray held a small paper-wrapped packet. “A
purezento
(present),” the waiter mumbled, bowing. I bowed back and thanked him. I looked up at the sushi chefs and bowed. They bowed back. I then backed out of the restaurant bowing once more and repeating my thanks.

Back in my room, I opened up the packet. It was
furikake,
a dry seasoning mix of nori flakes, sesame seeds, freeze-dried granules of fish stock, and pickled plum to sprinkle over steamed rice.

Gift giving is an important part of social etiquette in Japan. A visit to someone's home requires a gift. If you ask a favor, you offer a gift for asking. If the favor is granted, you issue a gift of thanks. First business meetings usually involve an exchange of gifts. The teller at the Sumitomo Bank had given me a gift when I opened my savings account. I had noticed a stack of goodies piled by his window, a handy cloth pouch filled with travel-size toiletries, pastel packets of guest soap, and bottles of cologne. After completing our transaction, the teller handed me a tiny packet of plastic bags. Apparently, the size of one's deposit determined the size of the teller's thank-you.

Travelers always bring back gifts from their voyages. And if by chance you forgot to buy one, train stations in almost every major Japanese city sell specialty food items from all over Japan. So, for example, if you lived in Osaka and traveled to Sapporo, but neglected to buy a gift in Sapporo, you could easily find a specialty food from Sapporo back at your home train station in Osaka.

Typically, once a gift is given the Japanese respond with a “return” gift. Its value is usually half that of the gift received, so the exchange doesn't needlessly continue back and forth.

I looked at the packet from the restaurant trying to decipher the contents, then crouched down and held it under the pull-cord of the Japanese paper floor lamp in my bedroom. Did something move? I lay down and picked up the light and held it directly over the packet. The seasoning was infested with tiny white worms!

I threw the gift into the rubbish bin, chuckling to myself as I returned to my room. Appearances could be so deceptive in
Japan. When I first arrived, I thought everyone had black hair. Then hundreds of variations began to appear, including blue-black, brown-black, and red-black. Japan was the place where “maybe” meant “no,” bathtubs shocked you, and worms wriggled in the fancy restaurant's furikake. Even the simple act of eating had become an enormous adventure in this part of the world. Cooking would prove even more so.

This “cook as you like” pancake bulges with crunchy vegetables and juicy chunks of shrimp and chicken. The assorted garnishes add moistness and vibrant punches of flavor. Japanese mountain yam, available in most Japanese markets, is an important addition to the batter. It is beige and slightly hairy on the outside and gooey inside. When finely grated and added to the batter, it helps the pancake develop a chewy golden exterior. Okonomiyaki sauce, flavored with Worcestershire, is also available in most Japanese markets. Worcestershire sauce came to Japan in the second half of the nineteenth century, although the flavor has been made more mild to suit the delicate Japanese palate.

1 cup all-purpose flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon coarse salt

1¼ cups dashi (
page 48
)

1 large egg

1 cup grated Japanese mountain yam

2 cups coarsely chopped green cabbage

1 cup fresh bean sprouts

1 medium carrot, peeled and shredded

1 bunch scallions (about 6), trimmed and thinly sliced

• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
  

• One 4-ounce boneless, skinless chicken breast, thinly sliced into small pieces
  

• 10 medium shrimp, peeled, deveined, and sliced lengthwise in half
  

• FOR THE GARNISHES
  

• Mayonnaise
  

• Okonomiyaki sauce
  

• Shredded red pickled ginger
  

• Dried bonito flakes
  

• Shredded nori
  

1. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl.
   

2. Whisk together the dashi and egg in a medium bowl. Whisk in the grated yam. Add the wet mixture to the dry mixture and whisk until the batter is smooth. Stir in the cabbage, bean sprouts, carrot, and scallions.
   

3. Heat a griddle or large nonstick skillet to medium-high. Brush a tablespoon of the oil over the surface. When the griddle or skillet is hot, ladle half of the batter into the center. Spread the batter with the back of a wooden spoon so that you form an 8-inch round pancake. Scatter half of the chicken and shrimp over the surface of the pancake (this is why some people call okonomiyaki Japanese pizza), and gently push them into the batter. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook the pancake until the top edges appear cooked and the bottom has stiffened and turned golden brown, about 4 minutes. Using a metal spatula, turn the pancake and cook for 3 to 4 more minutes, pressing gently down on the disc, until the other side is golden. Repeat the process with the remaining oil, batter, chicken, and shrimp.
   

4. Transfer each pancake to a large serving plate. Cut it into wedges and let each person top with the garnishes by first spreading creamy mayonnaise over the wedge, then squirting on a generous helping of tangy okonomiyaki sauce, next, scattering on some crispy salty ginger shreds, sprinkling on some bonito flakes, and finally adding a generous pinch of nori.
   

Makes 2 pizzas, or 4 servings

Hot, soupy, salty, sweet, and satisfying—that just about sums up donburi, which is Japan's quintessential comfort food. For variety, consider adding fresh spinach leaves, bamboo shoots, and sliced water chestnuts to the broth. You can easily substitute scallops or shrimp for the chicken; simply adjust the cooking time accordingly.

• 4 cups hot cooked rice (
  page 32
  )
  

• 1 cup dashi (
  page 48
  )
  

• ¼ cup soy sauce
  

• 1½ tablespoons sugar
  

• 1 tablespoon mirin
  

• 4 large eggs
  

• ½ pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into ½-inch nuggets
  

• 1 bunch of scallions (about 6), trimmed and cut into 1-inch batons
  

1. Prepare the rice.
   

2. Pour the dashi into a medium heavy-bottom saucepan, along with the soy sauce, sugar, and mirin. Bring the mixture to a boil, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 2 minutes.
   

3. Break the eggs into a bowl and stir with chopsticks until the yolks and whites are mixed but not totally blended.
   

4. Add the chicken to the dashi mixture and then gently pour in the egg. Sprinkle the scallions over the egg. When the egg starts to become firm, after about 3 minutes of cooking, gently stir it with your chopsticks. (The chicken and scallions will have finished cooking in the hot liquid.)
   

5. Lay out four deep soup bowls. Spoon even portions of the rice into each bowl and top with the soupy chicken and egg mixture.
   

Makes 4 servings

Perfect Japanese short-grain rice is sweet, pearly, and sticky enough to pick up with your chopsticks. Try to find the excellent Nishiki brand, which is available in most Japanese markets. Also, please do not skip the rinsing and soaking process. The initial rinsing rids the rice of the powdered bran and polishing compound, while the soaking plumps the grains with water to render them tender and slightly tacky. Since the texture of the rice can change depending upon how old it is, the amount of water you use may affect the texture of the end result. New rice (less than one year old) will be moister than old rice and thus might require a tiny bit less water for cooking. While an electric rice cooker yields wonderful results, this stovetop method is just as good.

1½ cups short-grain rice

1. Place the rice in a fine mesh sieve and rinse under cold water, using your hand to gently stir the rice until the milky white liquid runs clear, about 2 minutes.
   

2. Transfer the rice to a deep heavy-bottom saucepan and add 2 cups cold water. Let the rice soak for at least an hour.
   

3. Bring the rice to a boil. Reduce the heat to very low and cook the rice, covered, for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat and let the rice rest, covered, for 10 more minutes, so it can settle and finish cooking.
   

4. Remove the lid and spoon out the rice with a wooden rice paddle (or spoon). If by chance some rice sticks to the bottom of the pot, don't despair! Simply spoon out all the soft grains, then scrape up the crispy bottom portion to eat as a snack sprinkled with coarse salt.
   

Makes 4 cups

4.