Ordinary Miso Soup
TEIBAN NO MISO SHIRU
Teiban means “ordinary.” That may sound like a put-down, but it’s not when it comes to menu items like miso soup. Appearing daily on restaurant and home tables throughout Japan (and on Japanese restaurant menus overseas), miso soup is enjoyed by most Japanese for its down-home, tried-and-true track record: comforting because it’s commonplace. Although most families have a set of preferred ingredients they float in their household miso soup, the surf-and-turf combination of wakamé (a sea vegetable) and negi (scallions) are certainly among the most common choices. Nearly everyone adds cubes of tōfu for volume, and to boost protein intake. In addition, many cooks will add a seasonal vegetable—here I chose tender-skinned eggplant, a personal favorite in late summer and early autumn, but I encourage you to experiment with produce available in your local market.
My rendition of ordinary miso soup calls for a kombu dashi (kelp stock) rather than the more common fish flake–enhanced dashi (basic sea stock) or niboshi dashi (dried sardine stock) because I want to encourage vegetarian readers to make this ultimate comfort food for themselves.
This soup features the Tohoku’s local pride, robust Sendai miso. If you are having trouble sourcing it, or would prefer to use a mellower miso, you could substitute another aka miso or combine a robust red and sweeter white to create an awasé miso (blended miso).
SERVES 4
1 tablespoon dried wakamé bits
A few drops of dark sesame oil
1 small Japanese eggplant, about 3 ounces, trimmed, and cut ichō-giri style
Pinch of salt
Splash of saké
3½ cups Kombu Dashi (Kelp Stock)
½ block tōfu, either silken or firm, drained and cut into ¼-inch cubes
3 tablespoons Sendai miso or 3 tablespoons awasé miso (2 tablespoons red miso plus 1 tablespoon white miso)
2 scallions, white and green parts, trimmed and finely chopped (about ¼ cup)
Put the dried wakamé in a bowl with room-temperature water to cover. Set a kitchen timer for 3 minutes to remind you to drain the softening sea vegetable. Allowing wakamé to soak for longer than a few minutes diminishes its flavor and texture, and lowers its nutritional value. The liquid from soaking wakamé is typically not consumed (it can contain trace elements of unwanted minerals). Drain, then chop the wakamé coarsely and place bits directly in individual soup bowls.
Heat a heavy-duty pot over high heat; add a drop or two of the sesame oil. Sear the eggplant pieces for 1 minute, undisturbed. If you can place the pieces so that the skin side is down, the skin color will be more vibrant. Jiggle the pot and let sear for another 30 to 40 seconds. Sprinkle a pinch of salt over the eggplant chunks. Add a splash of saké and jiggle to deglaze the pot. Add the stock and simmer for 1 minute. Add the cubes of tōfu, lower the heat, and simmer until the tōfu is warmed through, about 1 minute.
Miso is added just before serving. This preserves nutrients, flavor, and aroma. Most brands of Sendai miso are quite chunky, with coarse bits of soybean. You can either dissolve the miso directly in the pot using a special miso koshi strainer that hangs on the rim, or place the miso in a small bowl, ladle in some hot broth from the pot to thin it, and pour this mixture through an ordinary strainer back into the pot.
Remove from the heat. Place scallions in the bowls with softened wakamé and pour in the hot soup, including the tōfu cubes. Serving the soup in traditional, lidded bowls keeps the soup piping hot on the way to table and preserves the full aroma for each person as he or she opens the lid. Don’t worry if the miso has settled to the bottom and needs to be stirred before drinking; scientifically speaking, miso is suspended, not dissolved, in the broth.
SEA VEGETABLES
Sea vegetables, including wakamé, have been harvested for food and medicine for thousands of years. Early records show the Chinese used aquatic plants for medicinal purposes as early as 3000 BC, while archaeological evidence in Japan suggests the Japanese have eaten them for millennia as well. Wakamé has long been an important source of high-quality protein, lipids, minerals (such as calcium), and vitamins A, B1, B2, and C in many Asian food cultures.
References to wild-harvest wakamé, served as a delicacy to nobility in Japan, can be found in the Manyoshu, an eighth-century anthology of poetry. Consumption by ordinary folk in Japan seems to have begun in the seventeenth century, when cultivation methods made wakamé more readily available and affordable. Briny-sweet wakamé enlivens springtime menus in Japan.
Before the Disaster, the Tohoku’s Sanriku area off of the coast of Miyagi and Iwate prefectures produced nearly 80 percent of all wakamé commercially farmed in Japan. Sanriku’s domestic rival for market share had been Naruto wakamé, grown and harvested in the Straits of Naruto, off the coast of Shikoku’s Tokushima Prefecture.
Sanriku seabeds were destroyed in the tsunami … the entire industry wiped out. With the help of local (prefectural-level) government cooperatives and private nonprofit organizations (such as Civic Force), wakamé seedlings salvaged from the wreckage and new seedlings from Tokushima were planted in the summer of 2011. It is hoped that the first new crop can be harvested early in the spring of 2012. In the meanwhile, wakamé cultivated in Tokushima, Korea, and China is filling the market need.
Pinched Noodle Soup with Pork
Pinched Noodle Soup with Pork
HITTSUMI-JIRU
In the first few days following the March disaster, emergency shelters were set up throughout the Tohoku to provide medical care, and to house and feed survivors. Drinking water, food, and blankets were scarce; what plumbing existed was primitive. Meal service, when made possible by volunteer efforts, was limited to items such as onigiri, which could be made off-site and served immediately without reheating.
By the second week, some of the shelters were able to set up makeshift kitchens and offer survivors a hot meal. Cauldrons of piping hot hittsumi-jiru, a classic Tohoku comfort food, provided excellent nutrition (protein, vitamins, and quick-energy carbs), and great solace to those still in shock from nature’s fury. Before the Disaster, this chunky chowder-like soup was the sort of fare you would have found served at happy community events. In local Iwate dialect, the word hittsumi means “to pinch” and describes how the noodles are made.
Some Tohoku cooks will pinch off bits of stretchy dough and add them to the soup directly, others will shape (and parboil) the pinched noodles, then add them to the soup shortly before serving. The direct-to-the-soup-from-the-start method creates soft noodles in a thick stew: as the pinched noodles cook, the flour thickens the broth. Parboiled pinched noodles, on the other hand, tend to be firm and a bit chewy; the soup is more chowder-like, brimming with bits of vegetable and meat. It is this latter version that I describe in detail here.
You have your choice of flours to use to make the noodles. Japanese use refined white high-gluten (bread) flour to make chewy-tender noodles. All-purpose white or whole wheat flour will also produce fine pinched noodles.
SERVES 4 TO 6 MODERATELY HUNGRY PEOPLE
PINCHED NOODLES
1 scant cup sifted flour (3.5 ounces/100 grams when weighed)
3 to 4 tablespoons room-temperature water
SOUP
A few drops of dark sesame oil
6 ounces boneless pork shoulder, cut into paper-thin slices, then into strips about 1-inch long
1 leek (about 2 ounces), thinly sliced on the diagonal, in separate piles of (tender) white and (tougher) green parts
6 ounces root vegetables, such as burdock root (gobō), lotus root, parsnip, salsify, and/or carrots, scrubbed or peeled and thinly whittled sasagaki-style (1 generous cup cut vegetables)
Pinch of salt
1 tablespoon saké
4 to 5 cups Kombu Dashi or Niboshi Dashi
1½ tablespoons mirin
1½ tablespoons usukuchi shōyu (light-colored soy sauce)
1 tablespoon regular soy sauce
To make the pinched-
noodle dough, put the flour in a bowl. Drizzle in 3 table-spoons of the water, reserving the rest for adjusting consistency later, and stir to mix. Gather to form a mass, pressing against the side of the bowl while turning the dough. Continue to knead in the bowl until all the flour has been absorbed. If need be, add the remaining water, drop by drop. Knead until the mass is very smooth and slightly elastic, at least 3 minutes, preferably 5 or more. Take a brief break after the first few minutes if need be to rest, then resume kneading. Well-kneaded dough is what the Japanese call mimi tabu, or “earlobe texture” (pinch your earlobe gently and you’ll understand). Transfer the dough from the bowl to a plastic bag, seal, and hold it at room temperature for at least 30 minutes, up to several hours, to relax the gluten. Meanwhile, prepare the soup.
To make the soup, heat a large cast-iron skillet or Dutch oven casserole over medium-high heat. Drizzle in the oil. Add the meat and sear it undisturbed for 1 minute, letting it brown. Scrape and stir with a heavy wooden spoon or spatula to loosen the meat from the skillet. Add the green or tougher slices of the leeks and all of the root vegetables, except the carrots (unless you like them extremely soft), stirring and tossing until the vegetables are slightly wilted and quite aromatic. Sprinkle with the salt and stir-toss for 30 seconds. Add the saké and continue to stir-toss until the pan is deglazed.
Add the stock to the skillet. Keep the heat high until the liquid bubbles. Skim to remove large clouds of froth. Lower the heat to maintain a steady but not vigorous simmer. Cook for 7 to 8 minutes, until the meat and vegetables are tender.
In the meantime, bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil. Have a bowl of cold water (ice water is preferred) ready nearby. Take the ball of rested dough from the bag, dusting it with a bit of flour if it is very sticky to the touch. Hold the dough in one hand and with the other, pinch-and-pull off small bits. Some Tohoku cooks form pinched noodles one at a time from start to finish, first pinching a bit of dough from the ball, then stretching it thin before adding it to the pot of vigorously boiling water. This method works well when there are several people in the kitchen able to scoop the finished pinched noodles from the pot as they rise to the surface.
If you are on your own, you may prefer the way many solo Tohoku cooks make hittsumi: First pinch off bits of dough from the large mass, then go back to stretch each into thin, wavy, elongated discs, each approximately 1 by 1½ inches.
When all have been formed (you should have about 25 noodles), drop them into the pot of boiling water.
The pinched noodles will float to the surface of the pot after about 1 minute; when they become translucent (after another minute or so), scoop them out with a mesh strainer and add them to the a bowl of icy cold water. Swish to remove excess surface starch, then scoop them out and set aside.
To finish the soup, add the carrots, parboiled pinched noodles, and remaining white slices of leek to the pot; simmer all for 3 or 4 minutes to meld flavors. Season the soup with mirin, usukuchi shōyu, and regular soy sauce.
The finished soup can be kept at a slow simmer for an hour or so. Divvy up while steaming hot.
SCALING UP FOR A SMALL CROWD
A cauldron of hittsumi-jiru makes a great centerpiece for a fund-raising event in your community; serve with platters of onigiri. This amount will serve about 20 people.
PINCHED NOODLES
2⅓ cups sifted flour (8 ounces/250 grams)
8 to 10 tablespoons room-temperature water
SOUP
½ teaspoon dark sesame oil
1 pound boneless pork shoulder, cut into paper-thin slices, then into strips about 1-inch long
2 leeks (about 5 ounces total), thinly sliced on the diagonal, in separate piles of (tender) white and (tougher) green parts
12 or more ounces root vegetables, such as burdock root (gobō), lotus root, parsnip, salsify and/or carrots, scrubbed or peeled and thinly whittled sasagaki–style (2½ cups cut vegetables)
Pinch of salt
1 tablespoon saké
16 cups Kombu Dashi or Niboshi Dashi
¼ cup mirin
¼ cup usukuchi shōyu (light-colored soy sauce)
⅓ cup regular soy sauce
HOME, HEARTH, AND HOT POTS
Winters in the Tohoku can be brutal. Ice-glazed windowpanes and road-blocking deep snow invite folks to stay at home, gathered around a hearth or snuggled under a cozy kotatsu. Old-fashioned renditions of these low-slung, table-and-heating units feature charcoal-generated heat while modern ones depend upon an infrared bulb to radiate warmth. Either way, legs get tucked under a quilt sandwiched between the frame and tabletop while the torso is kept toasty in a hanten jacket, a short, thickly padded, kimono-like garment. Tohoku natives, equipped and outfitted in this way to withstand winter’s worst, further fortify themselves with bubbling nabé—tasty hot pots cooked at table, shared with friends and family.
Oysters-on-the-Riverbank Hot Pot
Oysters-on-the-Riverbank Hot Pot
KAKI NO DOTÉ NABÉ
Doté (riverbank) nabé (hotpot) is so named for the rich earth-colored miso that is smeared around the rim of the pot. As the broth bubbles, the miso is drawn into the pot, little by little, flavoring and thickening the broth (think riverbank silt sliding into a stream after heavy rains). Vegetables can simmer leisurely in the broth, waiting to be plucked out when each person is ready. The oysters, however, are best dipped briefly until just firmed a bit, then grazed along the rim to pick up extra miso. Try your hand at hot-pot camaraderie with your family and friends.
To prepare this recipe, you will need a 2- to 3-quart heatproof casserole with a rim or lip (on which neri miso can be smeared), preferably a donabé, a glazed earthenware pot such as the one pictured here that is wide and rather shallow. If you want to cook at the table, an electric hotplate—or something similar—will be needed.
For the vegetables, you will want to prepare 3 ounces per person. Use a combination of leeks (white portion cut thinly on the diagonal); mushrooms (shiméji, énokidaké, and/or fresh shiitaké), trimmed and sliced into easy-to-eat pieces; Chinese or napa cabbage cut in 1-inch wedges; gobō (burdock root), salsify, or daikon, scraped or peeled and sliced into julienne or whittled sasagaki style), and carrot, decoratively carved to look like autumn leaves in the fall or plum blossoms in the winter (if you can source special cutters), from ¼-inch-thick slices.
SERVES 4 TO 6
About 12 to 18 ounces vegetables (see headnote, above)
1 block grilled tōfu (yaki-dōfu), about 14 ounces, drained and cut in half lengthwise, then across into 12 slabs
Oysters (4 to 5 per person), washed and drained
½ cup Neri Miso (Stirred Miso Sauce)
1½ to 2 cups Kombu Dashi (Kelp Stock)
Arrange the vegetables, grilled tōfu, and oysters attractively on a platter within easy reach of the cooking unit. Smear the neri miso mixture around the inner edge of the casserole. Line the casserole with the piece of kelp that was used to make the kombu dashi. Pour in 1 cup of the dashi and set the casserole on the cooking unit over medium heat. Allow the broth to come to a boil before adjusting the heat to maintain a steady but not vigorous simmer. If need be, start the cooking in your kitchen on the stove, then (carefully) move the casserole to your at-table unit.
Add half the vegetables and tōfu, giving them time to become tender and absorb flavor from the broth as it slowly becomes enriched by the “melting” miso. Help yourself. When you are ready to enjoy a few oysters, add several to the pot, swish and let cook for 1 minute, until just firm.
As you retrieve your share, slide the oyster around the edge to pick up some of the crusted miso that clings there (try eating the tōfu this way, too … yum). It is best to cook the oysters in batches, allowing one for each person in the first round. That way the broth becomes imbued with briny flavor early on, yet you can savor the oysters at the end, too. Continue to add vegetables and oysters to the pot, adding more kombu dashi as needed to keep from scorching.
GOOD TO THE LAST DROP: OJIYA
The kombu that remains at the bottom of the casserole is delicious (and can be nibbled on the spot), as is the broth. Strain the broth (and nibble the bits you have captured, or discard them) and use immediately (to make the porridge-like dish ojiya, described below) or store in a glass jar, refrigerated for up to 2 days.
To make ojiya for 4 people, you will need at least 1 cup of cooked rice (cold, refrigerated leftovers from a previous day are fine) and 2 cups liquid—the strained broth from the hot pot, adding water or more kombu dashi if need be. Heat the liquid in a saucepan over low heat until barely at a simmer.
If your rice is gummy or clumped, place it in a fine-meshed strainer and briefly rinse it in water, swishing to separate the grains. Drain well before adding to the simmering broth. Cook over low heat, stirring, to make a thick porridge. Scoop out into small bowls and top with finely chopped scallions. This richly flavored porridge makes a perfect shimé, or finale, to the oyster stew.
Celebration Hot Pot
TSUYUJI, KOZUYU, ZAKU ZAKU-JIRU
Fukushima’s Minami Aizu district, nestled in the Ou mountain range located in the far western corner of the prefecture, is known for its festive hot pots that include tsuto tōfu, a straw-wrapped, brine-simmered tōfu “sausage” that readily absorbs the complex flavors of the liquid in which it cooks. Regional variations such as Tsuyuji, Kozuyu, and Zaku Zaku-Jiru are enjoyed at family gatherings—especially during the New Year’s holidays, which is why I chose to call this rendition that borrows a bit from each: Celebration Hot Pot. Other than including tsuto tōfu, there do not seem to be hard-and-fast rules regarding the choice of other ingredients. All the versions of Tsuyuji, Kozuyu, and Zaku Zaku-Jiru that I have encountered, however, include a variety of root vegetables, mushrooms, and tuber vegetables. Onions, leeks, and other members of the allium family, however, are conspicuously missing.
Kibo ( Brimming With Hope ): Recipes and Stories From Japan's Tohoku Page 3