Ivan Ramen
Page 10
100 grams (3½ ounces) geso (dried squid tentacles)
2.5 liters (10½ cups) water
17 grams (½ ounce) urume iwashibushi (shaved dried sardines)
17 grams (½ ounce) sababushi (shaved dried mackerel)
17 grams (½ ounce) mejika soudabushi (shaved dried mejika)
17 grams (½ ounce) katsuobushi (shaved dried bonito)
1 Wipe the seaweed with a damp cloth and place it in a large bowl with the dried sardines and the dried squid tentacles. Cover with cool water and let soak for at least 2 hours, or overnight, in the refrigerator.
2 Drain the soaked seaweed, sardines, and squid tentacles, place them in a large stockpot, and cover with the water. Over medium heat, bring the water up to 140°F (60°C). Once it reaches temperature, skim all of the scum from the surface, then strain the liquid through a fine-mesh strainer. Gently press the strained ingredients against the sides of the strainer to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the solids.
3 Pour the liquid into a clean pot. Over medium heat, heat it to 176°F (80°C), and hold it as close to that temperature as possible. Add the shaved sardines, mackerel, and mejika and cook for 5 minutes, then add the shaved bonito and cook for another 3 minutes, keeping the liquid at 176°F (80°C) the whole time.
4 Strain the liquid again through a fine-mesh sieve, again gently pushing down on the ingredients to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the solids.
5 Cool the liquid to room temperature, then store in the refrigerator. Dashi doesn’t have the best shelf life—it keeps for a couple days in the refrigerator—so make this as close to the day you’ll use it as possible.
Toasted Rye Noodles
SHIO RAMEN COMPONENT 5
Our noodle recipe has changed over the years. The noodle we serve now isn’t the same as the one we opened with. This recipe is my play on soba; these can be served hot or cold. Most ramen shops would frown upon using soba-style noodles because they’re so mild compared to a salty, porky ramen broth. But my soup is lighter than most, and works well with these more ethereal noodles.
I’m personally obsessed with the kaori, or aroma, of the noodles. Most shops use one type of flour that is specifically designed for ramen, with a protein level of 10 to 11 percent. These flours are inexpensive, but they don’t have the deep, fresh aroma that I’m looking for. At my shop, we combine soft udon flour (7 to 8 percent protein), with high-protein bread flour (14 to 15 percent protein) and a small percentage of rye or other whole grain flour, for a noodle with an irresistible aroma of fresh wheat. It’s a circuitous route to get to the 10 to 11 percent protein content that works for noodles, but we get much more interesting textures and complex flavors, and even a deeper color, with pretty little speckles of whole grain. Toasting the flour brings out more aromatic nuances, while removing some of the liquid in the flour and making for an even chewier noodle.
Powdered kansui adds the alkaline component of these noodles. As noted in numerous places by Harold McGee, the oracle of culinary science, a simple substitute for kansui powder is baked baking soda. Spread baking soda in a thin layer on a foil-lined sheet tray and bake for one hour at 275°F (135°C). Store in a container with a tight-fitting lid for up to a couple of months.
In Tokyo, we work with an excellent and very expensive noodle machine. You won’t have one. But neither did I when I first started developing these recipes. Believe me, you can make great ramen noodles at home with a manual pasta machine. But it will take you more than one try to iron out the kinks. Try the recipe, curse me out if you must, and try again. Your kitchen will produce different results than mine—that’s just the reality of cooking, Repeat and tinker with the proportions until you have your ideal bowl of toothsome, fragrant noodles. This recipe yields enough noodles for ten bowls of ramen.
Makes about 1.3 kilos (2¾ pounds)
75 grams (½ cup) rye flour
620 grams (4 cups) high-gluten (14 to 15 percent protein) bread flour
300 grams (2 cups) cake flour
10 grams (1½ teaspoons) kansui powder (see note, this page)
430 milliliters (1¾ cups) cool water
13 grams (1 tablespoon) salt
Cornstarch
1 Toast the rye flour in a nonstick pan over medium-high heat. Stir the flour until a few wisps of fragrance reach your nose, about 4 minutes. Don’t give it any color! Weigh the flour again after it’s been toasted: you only want 70 grams of toasted flour for this recipe—the extra 5 grams are to account for any loss while toasting.
2 In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the flours and set aside. Ramen noodle dough can be quite stiff and difficult to work with. If you don’t have a stand mixer, good old-fashioned elbow grease will have to do.
3 In a separate bowl, slowly stir the kansui into the water until it’s fully dissolved (this takes a little time). Then stir in the salt to dissolve.
4 Outfit your mixer with the dough hook attachment. With the mixer running on low speed, add the water in thirds to the flour mixture. After a few minutes, the dough should begin to come together. It will be a bit shaggy—more so than Italian pasta dough. If it isn’t coming together at all, add a spoonful of water. Once it comes together, increase the speed to medium-low and let the machine run for 10 minutes, until the dough forms a ball. Turn off the mixer and cover the dough with plastic wrap. Let stand for 30 minutes.
5 After 30 minutes, the dough should be significantly softer in texture and smoother in appearance. Set the dough ball on a cutting board, flatten it with the palm of your hand, then cut it into four 5-centimeter (2-inch) strips. Cover the dough strips with a damp kitchen towel.
6 Set up your pasta machine and adjust it for the largest size. Pass one piece of dough through the machine, then fold it over on itself so that you have a double sheet. Turn the machine to the second largest size, and run the doubled sheet through. Double the sheet over again, and run it through the third largest setting.
7 Don’t double the sheet over again. Run it through the fourth largest setting, then once through the smallest setting. Set aside and repeat with the remaining pieces of dough. Once the sheets are all rolled, pass them through the thinnest cutter you have, or cut them by hand so that they are as thin as possible. As you work, toss the noodles with a little cornstarch to keep them from sticking together, and shake off the excess before cooking. Store the noodles in a container wrapped tightly with plastic (or individual portions in ziplock bags) for up to a day.
Menma
SHIO RAMEN COMPONENT 6
Menma is cured bamboo shoot, usually cut from the bottom part of the shoot. Menma is a love-it-or-hate-it thing, and to be honest, they aren’t my personal favorite. As a result, they’re the only thing coming out of my kitchen that I don’t make from scratch. At Ivan Ramen, we serve hosaki menma, which are taken from the very tip of the shoot. They have a milder, fresher taste, and are more tender than menma from the bottom of the shoot. Plus, they’re long and thin—perfect for being slurped up with noodles. Since we started serving hosaki menma, it’s become quite common in Tokyo.
You can find prepared menma in a jar in most Japanese grocery stores, but in case you can’t, I’ve provided the following recipe that uses the chewier kind of bamboo shoot that’s more common in America. It won’t be quite as crunchy as the stuff at Ivan Ramen in Tokyo, but it’s still delicious. You can buy sliced, uncured bamboo shoots in two styles: 1) packed in water, in which case they just need to be rinsed; or 2) packed in salt, in which case they must be soaked in water for a day. You’re almost always going to end up with more menma than you need for your ramen. I’ve included some alternative uses for the extra.
Makes about 500 grams (1 pound)
500 grams (1 pound) sliced, uncured bamboo shoots
750 milliliters (3 cups) water
30 grams (1 ounce) katsuobushi (shaved dried bonito)
5 grams (¼ ounce) konbu
100 milliliters (½ cup) sake
50 milliliters (3½ tables
poons) soy sauce
40 milliliters (2 ½ tablespoons) mirin
20 grams (1½ tablespoons) sugar
1 Rinse the bamboo shoots if they’re packed in water. If they’re packed in salt, soak them in water for a day, changing the water a few times during the course of the soak.
2 Combine the water, katsuobushi, and konbu in a bowl and soak for 1 hour.
3 Strain the water from the katsuobushi and konbu into a saucepan, and discard the katsuobushi and konbu. Add the sake, soy sauce, and mirin. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to the heat to maintain a simmer and cook, uncovered, for 10 minutes. Stir in the sugar until it’s dissolved. Add the bamboo shoots and simmer for 10 minutes longer.
4 Let the menma come to room temperature, then refrigerate in its cooking liquid until ready to use. Menma will keep for a week in the refrigerator.
Pork Belly Chashu
SHIO RAMEN COMPONENT 7
At Ivan Ramen, we’re renowned for the big, thick slices of succulent chashu that rest on top of our noodles. Chashu is Chinese-style, soy-and-sugar-seasoned pork. The definition is a loose one, and can refer to either pork belly or pork shoulder. (Some of the more decadent shops serve both in the same bowl.) The meat is usually brined in a soy-based marinade (chashu tare) or braised in a richly flavored soy-based broth. Some shops poach the pork in their soup broth before adding it to the marinade in order to doubly reap the benefits of the meat’s flavor. Sometimes you’ll find chashu sliced extremely thick; other times it’s sliced thinly and piled on. A few places char the meat with a blowtorch before it goes into the bowl.
Our shio ramen soup is a strictly chicken-and-fish-based one, so when I first set out to make my chashu, I knew I needed a meaty counterpoint that would scream, “Pork!” I went through six types of pork belly with our butcher, Fukuya-san, before finally settling on the breed I liked. Good pork belly needs to have multiple even layers of meat and fat. Do your best to find a high-quality cut.
Finally, there’s something universally attractive about a fat hunk of pork belly melting into a hot bowl of soup, but this is equally true outside the bowl—chashu is fantastic over a bowl of rice, in a sandwich, or pan-fried until crispy. Keep in mind that I purposely keep the soy, sugar, ginger, and garlic on the lighter side so as not to interfere with the flavor of the soup and noodles. If you want more flavorful pork belly for nonsoup applications, feel free to replace some of the water in the braise with more chashu tare.
Makes about 1 kilo (2 pounds)—a big slab
25 milliliters (1½ tablespoons) sake
25 milliliters (1½ tablespoons) mirin
10 grams (2 teaspoons) garlic, chopped coarsely
15 grams (1 tablespoon) fresh ginger, peeled and chopped coarsely
135 milliliters (½ cup + 1 tablespoon) dark soy sauce
75 milliliters (⅓ cup) light soy sauce
15 grams (1 tablespoon) sugar
1 (1-kilo/2-pound) piece of pork belly
Water
1 Measure the sake and mirin into a saucepan and heat it to a light simmer over medium heat. Cook for 3 minutes to burn off some of the alcohol.
2 Add the garlic, ginger, and two soy sauces to the pan and bring the mixture back to a simmer over medium heat. Add the sugar and stir until it dissolves, about 30 seconds. Continue cooking, uncovered, over medium heat for 5 minutes, then turn off the heat, and let the mixture sit for at least an hour, to allow the flavors to meld.
3 Remove the meat from the refrigerator 1 hour before cooking to allow it to come closer to room temperature. Completely cold meat cooks more slowly, and you’ll risk drying out the exterior before the interior cooks.
4 Cut the pork belly in half across the grain and put it in a pot that will hold it snugly. Pour in the cooled chashu tare and then add enough water to just cover the pork by about 1 centimeter (½ inch).
5 Over high heat, bring the liquid up to a full boil. Skim off any scum that comes to the surface. Lower the heat to a gentle simmer and cook, covered, until the meat is tender enough that it is easily pulled apart with a fork, between 2½ and 4 hours. In my experience, mass-produced pork belly takes longer to cook than small farm–produced pork belly, so the cooking time will depend on your cut of meat.
6 When the meat is tender, remove it from the pot and set it on a tray to cool. Reserve the cooking liquid for future braises or for the eggs; it will keep for a week in the fridge or you can freeze it for 2 months.
7 Once the meat has cooled down to room temperature, refrigerate it until it’s completely chilled, or up to 5 days. It’s important to chill the belly thoroughly before slicing it, or you’ll end up with pulled pork. Once it’s cooled, slice the belly into strips across the grain, then into pieces of the desired thickness. I like 1-centimeter (½-inch) slices. You can reheat the pork and use it however you see fit. I reheat my pork belly in simmering water or stock for a minute to keep the flavor clean.
Half-Cooked Eggs
SHIO RAMEN COMPONENT 8
I really obsessed over the eggs. For a long time, eggs weren’t a traditional ramen topping; they were offered hardboiled and unpeeled in a basket for customers to pluck out and eat while they waited, or to add to their soup. As ramen became more refined and less junk-foody, cooks started to treat the eggs with a more care. The eggs they sell in Japan are beyond delicious, and to me, they’re an indispensable part of a bowl of ramen. We serve hanjuku tamago, half-cooked eggs that have a firm but soft white and a mostly liquid yolk.
My search for perfect eggs took me to innumerable egg farms. After an extensive search, I found one that tasted great, had the most brilliant orange yolks, and peeled easily. (Believe me, when you have to peel two hundred eggs a day, that’s an important criterion.) Then I spent almost as much time figuring out how to cook the eggs properly as I did perfecting the noodles. But I’ve got it now: punch a pinhole in the bottom, boil for 6 minutes and 10 seconds, stirring gently for the first 2 minutes, then ice immediately. Once they’re cool, the eggs are peeled and soaked in a light shoyu tare (or, preferably, reserved chashu cooking liquid). Sliced in half and served at room temperature atop the ramen, the eggs are a perfect supporting cast member for the soup and noodles, adding an extra touch of color and unctuousness to the bowl.
Makes 6 eggs
50 milliliters (3½ tablespoons) sake
50 milliliters (3½ tablespoons) mirin
200 milliliters (1¾ cup + 1 tablespoon) soy sauce
30 grams (2 tablespoons) sugar
40 grams (3 tablespoons) garlic, chopped coarsely
75 grams (2½ ounces) fresh ginger, chopped coarsely
6 room-temperature fresh large eggs
1 liter (1 quart) water
1 Simmer the sake and mirin in a saucepan over medium-high heat for 2 minutes to cook off a bit of the alcohol. Reduce the heat to low, then add the soy sauce, sugar, garlic, and ginger and simmer and stir for 10 minutes. Let come to room temperature; you can store the mixture in the refrigerator for up to a week.
2 Bring a large pot of water to a boil. You want a big pot so that when the eggs go in, the temperature won’t drop too drastically, and the water will quickly come back to a boil.
3 Poke a small hole in the bottom (larger end) of each egg with a pushpin.
4 Gently slide the eggs into the boiling water. Start your timer. Stir for the first 2 minutes. Prepare a large bowl of ice water to shock the eggs.
5 The total cooking time for a large egg in Tokyo is 6 min-utes and 10 seconds. You might decide to adjust that time depending on the size of your eggs, how many you’re cooking, or what the chickens were thinking about when they laid them.
6 Remove the eggs after 6 minutes and 10 seconds, and immediately place them in the ice bath. Stir until there are no pockets of hot water.
7 In a large bowl, combine the shoyu tare with the liter of water. When the eggs are cooled completely—after about 15 minutes—peel and soak them in the seasoning liquid for 2 hours in the refrigerator. The e
ggs will hold in the soak for 3 days.
8 When it comes time to slice the eggs and add them to the ramen, a taut nylon fishing line gets the job done without losing any of the precious yolk.
Now What?
You’ve successfully made a complete bowl of ramen, or maybe just a big batch of dashi. Now you’ve got a bunch of leftovers on your hands. All that time spent sweating vegetables and simmering stock, and now you don’t know what to do with all this stuff. The thought of throwing it away is heartbreaking.
Have no fear. Most of the meals I’ve eaten for the past five years have included some component lifted from my ramen recipe. This section illustrates how to repurpose dashi, chicken stock, sofrito, chashu (although you should probably be able to figure that one out yourself), fat, and menma. Nothing will go to waste, especially if you decide to get a little creative yourself. I encourage you to start swapping dashi in recipes that call for stock, cooking in chicken and pork fat, sneaking sofrito into other soups and braises, and painting grilled meats with shio tare.
Nothing’s sacred! I won’t be offended if you find that you like chashu in tacos better than you like it in soup. Becoming a better cook is all about finding the best way to use what you’ve got on hand.
Flavored Fat
ANOTHER USE FOR FAT
We use copious amounts of chicken and pork fat at Ivan Ramen. By flavoring the fats with herbs or other aromatics, you can change the entire flavor profile of a dish. At Ivan Ramen, we flavor pork fat with negi (Japanese green onions) and ginger; at Ivan Ramen Plus, we use lemon-infused chicken fat as a fragrant garnish. If you’ve got extra fat on hand, you can experiment by taking a cup and gently cooking it in a small saucepan for an hour with a few sprigs of your preferred herb and/or a few garlic cloves.