Showing posts with label Japanese food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Japanese food. Show all posts

Monday, April 3, 2017

Hagi no Tsuki

Hey, I'm super early this time... So without further ado, the article.



On the left, a cross section, on the right, a hagi no tsuki in its unaltered wholeness.
(I sincerely hope that this (and the post for that matter)
doesn't get me sued. (Don't worry, I'l explain).



To the untrained ear, hagi no tsuki may sound like a person with a mouthful of saltwater taffy trying to express that they are in possession of a pig that refuses to come when called. (Some imagination and/or sleep deprivation may be required for full comprehension).** In truth though, it involves neither pigs nor nutrition-less nuggets of (delicious) varieties of sugar and (a surprising number of) chemicals.

Though my eye-catching picture above (and my current trend in posts) is undoubtedly a big tip off, I'm still gonna try and create build up in explaining this mysterious object known as hagi no tsuki is. (Whoo, word count of thirty-six! Yeah! Ahem.)


First try looking at the name, which may provide you with a very vague nudge in the right direction. (It didn't for me, though it probably should have). Hagi no tsuki is "bush clover moon". The kanji (plus one hirigana) are thus: 萩の月. Japanese learners among us many notice the kanji for bushclover/hagi is the kanji for autumn/fall with a little fence up top. (This little fence, from what I understand -- don't ask me where I read this, cuz I don't remember -- tells you that you're dealing with a plant. Neat, huh?) So we've got bush clover (Lespedeza bicolor -- L. bicolor for us lazy types), a symbol of autumn in both name and tradition. And we have the moon. Got your answer? Okay, here we go!



Took me forever to find a moon
pic for this post, and I'm not exactly

sure what the ax-wielding man is doing. Ringing its
doorbell? I dunno.
But hey, the moon looks like hagi no
tsuki, right? So mission successful!
It's a cake!  And not just any cake -- it looks like it's the specific product of a Sendai-based company called Kasho Sanzen. (Hence the caption in my lovely MS Paint work at the top here.) See, they tend to be pale yellow, slightly flattened domes of castella (or カステラ -- it's a type of sponge cake with apparently something of a steamed texture) filled with incredibly solid-looking custard cream filling of a darker yellow. (You know, like my incredibly life-like MS Paint masterpiece above). So hagi no tsuki are cakes shaped like the harvest moon. (To those who were already thinking harvest moon, I give you props!)


Whether naturally or through the dedicated efforts of various tourist boards, hagi no tsuki is a product connected with the Tōhoku region (aka just Tōhoku or 東北 aka the northern area of Honshū or 本州). Specifically and famously, with Miyagi Prefecture 宮城県. Is there any causal relationship that would help define a logical follow through to this seeming discontinuity? Well, Miyagi Prefecture's official flower is the bush clover's flower so, it makes sense.


The darker green area is Tōhoku. Yep.
(Here's a little side trip into a moment that kinda surprised me, even though I guess it probably shouldn't have, come to think of it. (Still, it was a sudden turn after only getting pages about the cake's description.) One source I found is in the Japanese government's Public Relations Office's website. It talked about the March 11, 2011 disaster and the Japanese economy, and what people where doing to be proactive. Included in this article were hagi no tsuki. (See what I mean about sudden turns?)

Specifically, it talked about the fact that Kasho Sanzen's production was totally destroyed, and they started selling their inventory a few days after the disaster happened. 


The article also mentioned that one time, huge department store, Shinjuku Takashimaya, once had a five day fair that went from April 20th to the 25th, selling Miyagi Prefecture goods -- including hagi no tsuki. 


Sometimes you never know what you're gonna find. Okay, side trip finished.)


It must be said though, while like 99 percent of the (small number) of pictures I've found of this cake have the what looks like some variant of vanilla pudding -- meanwhile in this post from the blog Sweet Travel, it's chocolate... and the cake type itself looks darker and heavier. Can't complain, mind, 'cause if there's anything I like it's a dessert with chocolate in it. (The same post also said that hagi no tsuki are made with Twinkie technology. It must be said that at least in terms of appearance, Twinkies and hagi no tsuki do look sorta like they're first cousins or something).


As for size, here's a v-log review by a food vlogger I only discovered when doing research for this post. (She's apparently quite popular: when I came across her hagi no tsuki video she had 2,878,049 followers). As per usual, I can't tell a lot of what she's saying but you'll get a good look at a hagi no tsuki:








References:
**Hoggy no suey. Oh, and if you're ever in the Sendai airport, they sell hagi no tsuki there, from what I (hope I) understand. Costs 1200 yen, but I dunno how many you get.

The Free Dictionary: Bush Clover


Government of Japan Public Relations Office: Highlighting Japan: COVER STORY: The Road to Recovery


Miyagi Touring Navigation: Shopping


Sendai International Airport: General Store Hagi (Confectionary Specialty Department)


University of Wisconsin Oshkosh: David Barnhill: Major Nature Images in Basho's Hokku


"Dawn to the West: Japanese Literature of the Modern Era"; Donald Keene; 1999


The Free Dictionary: Encyclopedia: Bush Clover


University of Virginia Library Etext Center: Japanese Text Initiative: Japanese Haiku: Brief Entries: aki, Autumn


Image Reference:
Picture of the awestruck lumberjack provided by Yale University Art Gallery:

Yale University Art Gallery: Cassia tree moon - Wu Gang : # 26 of One Hundred Aspects of the Moon

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Yubeshi

A famous food in Ishikawa Prefecture's Noto Peninsula as well as the Tōhoku region, and looking like trail food,  here's today's topic: yubeshi or 柚餅子 --  that's "yuzu", "mochi" and "child", respectively. Two of -- well I guess all three really, though the third's a bit of a stretch -- these kanji give massive hints about what yubeshi is. 

For geographical-ness though here's some pictures of Ishikawa Prefecture and the Tōhoku region.

The dark part's the Tōhoku
region. From Wikimedia (again, checked
by the internet).
Looks kinda like a sock puppet dunnit?
At least part of the stick-y out-y
bit's the Noto Peninsula.
(From Wikimedia, checked by the internet).


















So anyways, when you see a picture of yubeshi served up, your first impression may very well be that it began life as a (hopeful) attempt at vegan jerky. But it's not! It's a(n) (obviously) yuzu flavored rice and/or miso dumpling that takes a good while to prepare, and it can have other stuff too, depending on the recipe. 

As for culture... Hmm, it's a cold-weather food associated with rural areas. (Lemme tell you, it just looks like something created for enduring hard times -- but I like lemony things, so for all I know I'd like it). It's also popular at New Years. 


With a sharp sudden turn in focus, and without out further ado, let's begin what's basically the second intro, the Yuzu Aside! (Which you can skip, and probably will, if you're just in it for the yubeshi).

Yuzu Aside
For those who previously were completely ignorant of the yuzu's existence and to round out our knowledge of the yubeshi, let's take a moment to consider the yuzu or 柚子 (though I've seen it just as 柚. If there's a nuance, no place I've read (that I could understand okay) has mentioned it.)

Botanists, and other science types probably, have been known to call this fruit Citrus junos. Like limes and lemons and such, yuzu are used in cooking -- for one thing, it's the fruit ponzu makers put in their ponzu -- unless it's a company that doesn't want to use something that's probably more expensive or has tariffs or something... they use lemon, from what I understand, which I think is basically what people who can't get yuzu use anyway. 

Pic of a yuzu I nabbed from the Wikipedia. (It had a
 mandarin too, but I edited it out. The shadow's on it's right is from
the mandarin). Seems to match the other pics I've seen -- a yellow
orange that looks like it's been left in the fruit bowl a bit too long.


Types
Getting back to yubeshi, it would appear that there're several types (or more... and not everyone says they're are types. *Shrugs* One book I found says two is the number, so for now we'll go with that. I mean, it's from 1976 and is a little confusing, but it's the most comprehensive definition I've got right now that I can read without guessing every other word.)

One type has a miso mix. You can use it as a party snack-y type thing (aka hors d'oeuvres -- or appetizer, if you're at a restaurant)  as a topper for foods, sliced.

The other type is composed of a mochi mix (looks like soy sauce, a sweet syrup (dunno which type) or at least some type of sweetener and glutinous rice). It's is supposed to be spicy and sweet but not super strong tasting. You use it as a snack/hors doeuvre/appetizer or as a candy.

Walnut yubeshi -- which is yubeshi with walnuts in -- seems to be a thing. Here's a (Japanese language) recipe video (I don't know what the song is about, but it sounds exciting. Oh, and walnut in Japanese is kurumi, and if you want to spell it in kanji, this is it: 胡桃).




Procedure
The general procedure for making them is this: either you cut your yuzus either in half or just part of the top end (got a bit of contradiction there) --  then you can scoop out the innards. (You know in Belize, they make jack o'lanterns out of grapefruits as a Día de los Muertos decoration. True story.) Once they're hollowed out, fill 'em with your yubeshi mix, apply steam and hang your filled yuzu molds up in a tree to dry. (Or, in the case of the videos I'm going to introduce below, in a commercial drier). This will take a good while -- but once their done, pop 'em out of their rinds like those little red cheeses in the dairy section and voila! A nice crop of yubeshi, ready to be sliced up thin and served. 

The point of using yuzu is so that the mix gets that yuzu taste... I haven't looked at people's personal recipes much, but I found a quick version for Yubeshi in Google Books where you just grate yuzu peel straight into your mix and put your yubeshi your fridge to chill for a few days.

Explanatory-ish Videos
Here's  video (part 1 of 2) that I don't understand. But it's got a dramatic-y cinematic Jurassic Park meets Hallmark/Disney Channel type feel, which might be enough to help carry you along to the end. (It's a yubeshi/yuzu growing tourist place promotional video, from what I do understand).



And because sometimes I'm filled with civic mindedness, below this sentence you will find part two. ;) 




Post-Script PSA
Oh, and just an FYI: do not search for yubeshi on the Amazon site for English speakers. Strange as it may sound, when I did that, there was nothing on the rice cake stuffed into a fruit rind and steamed then dried. 

No, what I did find was anime posters. Lots and lots of (somewhat suggestive) anime posters -- at least some of which were for an anime called Yubeshi (so props to the Amazon search box for accuracy). I gave up after several pages, and instead (after failing to find much on Google Shopping) went to the Japanese Amazon, where I struck some pay-dirt -- actual yubeshi products! Okay, this is starting to sound like an ad for Amazon, so I'd better stop. 

Ta!


References:
Hooray for search engines and the internet! 






"Chado: The Way of Tea"; Sanmi Sasaki, (translated by ‎Shaun McCabe, ‎Satoko Iwasaki); 2002    This one doesn't actually let you see the book, but if you scroll down the page to the "Other Editions" section, you get a limited preview of the 1997 version... which won't let me see anything on yubeshi. Yeah, it's a little convoluted. Oh wells, I tried!

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Ochazuke

Rice and green tea as a soup. If you're used to thinking of green tea as just a drink, or even as a dessert ingredient, that combination may sound gross. But it is a real thing. You may have even read about it already, like in Cynthia Kadohata's Kira-Kira (which I didn't finish, myself) -- or if you read this blog, you may have come across it in this post.  It's called ochazuke (お茶漬け).

Table of Contents:

Short, Short Histories
Ingredients
Types
How To Serve (And Eat) It
Alternate Routes to Ochazuke
Cultural Facts
References

Short, Short Histories
Though it might seem like it, ochazuke is not an invention of dorm cooking (so far as I know). Nor was it the invention of a medieval-ish wizard trapped in an alternate form of Australia (those who have read The Last Continent know what I'm talking about).

The origin, as one explanation goes, began with the common person. That is,  ochazuke was just something people did at home (like tomato or mustard sandwiches, I guess). They'd put the two ingredients together and add a little nori on top. From there, it just grew in psychological weight until it was considered a dish in its own right. But that's not the only explanation out there...

Another origin story says that the dish was something that developed out of busy employees needing to eat while at work. The Genroku period (1688 to 1704) being the place in time where the ochazuke vendor began.

(And, on a related note, there's a story that the legendary Basho (1644 to 1694), who obviously lived a good chunk of his life in the Genroku period, liked ochazuke.)


Ingredients
Though you can find all sorts of recipes for it, the two pillar ingredients of ochazuke, the only two things you really need for it, are rice and steeped green tea. At least, that's what most of my sources say or seem to indicate.

What do people generally add to it? Weeeellll, let's have a rhetorical question first: what do you put in a sandwich? S'right. All you can really pin it  down to is "food", and if you want to be a purist, "savory food", save for pb&j sandwiches and the random dessert sandwich.

To actually relate what I have read to you, the interested reader/internet surfer (or whoever you may be), there are a number of books that say people only add one other ingredient -- and yes, they tend to disagree on what that ingredient is. Two books said to put some of nori on top, and a third said to use some fish. A fourth book seemed to say that hamanatto -- cooked, fermented, soaked and dried soybeans -- is part of a complete ochazuke.

File:ARS cucumber.jpg
Garden fresh is always best.
Except for, y'know... cheese and stuff.
But, some places have said, it's pretty much whatever, which seems to be true enough, considering the above paragraph. Examples of additional ochazuke ingredients include rice crackers, wakame, umeboshi, nori (again), shiokonbu (salted kelp, shredded), grated ginger, tempura, instant dashi, miso, spinach, sesame seeds, tsukemono (actually placed in the soup), wasabi paste, and fish in various forms of preparation (from salmon flakes to cooked or raw pieces of fish), fish roe... Or any combination of the above thereof. So yeah, basically whatever you think would go with the rice and tea.

But to further loosen the sense of a definitive definition of ochazuke, let's semi-backtrack to the liquid aspect of it. Looks like any kind of steeped green tea will do, both bancha and sencha are common, but I found several books that say you don't even have to use green tea. The replacement? Fish stock. And one book said the traditional tea for ochazuke is matcha, which doesn't seem like it would've been the food of the common man.

Types
And while we're focusing on ingredients, there are different names for certain types of ochazuke. (I assume they were named after the ingredient(s) added into it). To give examples, there's nori chazuke, tai chazuke (tai is sea bream here) and tsukemono chazuke. Considering the propensity of humanity for naming things and getting creative with food, I wanna say that there are probably other types out there, I just haven't come across them yet.

Though the details yet elude me, know that there are kinds of ochazuke out there connected to different parts of Japan. Thus I, the self-styled authority, have spoken!

How To Serve (And Eat) It
It's acceptable to eat your ochazuke hot or cold. The thing is to have it cold in summer and hot in winter, just like soba. As for the ratio, it's about what you'd do for boxed cereal and milk (or milk substitute, if that's what'cha do). To consume your ochazuke, eat the solids then drink the liquid. (Dunno 'bout you, but I'd probably end up bobbing for rice with my chopsticks, if I didn't drink down the tea/broth once in a while).  A definite side dish, or so it looks to me, is tsukemono (漬物) -- though one book said Western pickles work too.

File:Chopsticks (PSF).jpg
Isn't this a chopstick
no-no?
If you want a dash of extra officialness to round out your knowledge of ochazuke etiquette, behold this paragraph! For there came unto my attention an old (1955) etiquette book produced by the YWCA! It was a little hard for me to understand, but I think you're supposed to eat the pickles with the ochazuke, and after they are gone (I assume you're supposed to finish them first?), eat the rest of the ingredients. Unless it was talking about meat being served with the ochazuke... sigh... Anyway, other than the above, the book's rules state that if you feel like shoveling the rice from the bowl into your mouth, go right ahead and do that -- it's okay because that's how you're supposed to do it with ochazuke or rice with water on it.

Now, onto when to eat it. Again, differing sources. While I've seen an emphasis on it being something for later in the day (aka not breakfast), it depends on who you talk to. People describe it as a snack or light meal, and it can be served at the end/near the end of a meal -- even a fancy one, if you use fancy ingredients.

So why not eat it whenever you want! Especially after a meal of fatty foods, with pickled cucumber -- that's a tradition, or so I'm told.

Alternate Routes To Ochazuke
Two roads diverge in Mauchline,
 in Scotland.
For those too tired (or lazy disinclined) to make even basic ochazuke proper, there is a solution! Well, two actually. The first is, of course, to go and find a place that serves ochazuke. Yes, the 300 year old tradition is still going strong -- ochazuke-ya compete with shokudo (a cafeteria type place) and other restaurants. A tonkatsu restaurant, Suzuya (in Shinjuku ward) serves their tonkatsu with ochazuke: that is, the tonkatsu is put on rice, and you, the diner, pour tea over top it all.

The second alternative, which does involve some personal work, is to get yourself some instant ochazuke -- possibly called ochazuke no moto (though I saw one place say furikake) -- as produced by companies like Nagatani-En (famous for its instant ochazuke). This means you buy a packet specifically designated as ochazuke flavoring, put the packet's contents on some rice (previously cooked and placed in a bowl), and add hot water or tea (sources vary). However, these packets, while they come in different flavors like wasabi and salmon, tend to be supremely unhealthy.

Cultural Facts
First up, the common perception of ochazuke in Japan today. Descriptive words you might see should you start your own ochazuke research adventures include homey, country and comfort food. "Just Between Me and You Volume IV" likened ochazuke to chicken soup. It's seen as something that cures colds as well as hangovers.

Zooming in on Kyoto -- where the word for ochazuke is bubuzuke --, I've found several traditions concerning ochazuke. One tradition was/is this: the dish is offered to guests at the meal's end, not so much as a course as a message: go home. I've read that today, in Kyoto if someone wants his or her guest to leave, he or she asks if the guest wants ochazuke, and the guest is supposed to take the hint and make his or her goodbyes. Another tradition in Kyoto is to eat ochazuke for breakfast.

Over on this side of the Pacific it's supposed to be popular among Japanese-American families.


References
For food researcher-ists and other interested parties:

"Seductions of Rice"; Jeffrey Alford, Naomi Duguid; 2003 (sorry about this one, but I did use the information, I think).


You made it! By the way, if you're a dedicated fact-verifier and you spot something, make sure to send me a comment so I can make the post even better.