Cake and Commerce

Japanese-style Egg Custard (chawanmushi) steamed in an egg cup

Another Recipe from my post, "The Humble Egg Dresses for Dinner".

This custard, made from a combination dashi broth (kelp and bonito) and chicken reduction with mushrooms, contained three surprises: tiny shreds of local storage parsnips and shiso leaf, and a sauteed cepe.

Chawanmushi steamed in egg cups with parsnip and shiso

• 10 eggs, topped (tops removed)
• 3 whole eggs
• 1-1/2 C stock (mine was 1 C dashi plus 1/2 C mushroom chicken stock)
• 1 t soy sauce
• 1 t sake
• 1 t sugar
• 1/2 t salt
• 1" parsnip section, finely shaved into thin slivers, raw
• 1 shiso leaf, fine chiffonade
• 10 pc mushroom of your choice, very small, sauteed (I used cepes)

Combine eggs, stock, soy sauce, sake, sugar, salt. Whisk together, do not overwhisk. Strain mixture through china cap, chinois, or strainer.

Prepare a steamer basket.

Using strips of aluminum foil, create egg holders. Make sure they are secure. Place eggs in egg holders.

Place a small pinch of parsnip, a piece or two of shiso, and one mushroom piece in the egg cup (feel free to change up your vegetables and herbs to reflect what is in season). Pour in egg mixture so it is almost, but not quite, at the top. Place in steamer.

Steam 10-15 minutes, or until custard is no longer translucent. Serve in an egg cup or edible cup holder (I use cooked potato cubes or Spanish tortilla) and eat.

This custard may also be steamed in a tea cup or other deep bowl of your choice.

You can watch me make it here:

Global Bounty: care package from mich'l

No one puts together a care package like mich'l.

I've mentioned her before, but her story bears repeating....

I've known mich'l since the late '90s, when we both were at the Four Seasons in Atlanta. I was expecting to hate her, as I expected her to be another pastry chef go getter, the type of person I usually scared out of the kitchen (my ego had a body count - I think I effectively scared two cooks out of our kitchen with my abrasive, unfriendly style - what can I say, I was rather aggressive in those days. I assure you I've relaxed considerably since then - all it took was quitting the kitchen).

mich'l  had been an itinerant Four Seasons cook, moving from property to property working her pastry magic along with her boyfriend, X, who worked the front of the house (he managed and assistant managed in the restaurants and in banquets in those days). She was easy-going (though frantic at times) and and extremely knowledgeable, having worked under Sebastian Cannone and En-ming Hsu (among others) when they were both still with the Four Seasons. Her favorite stories from her time at the CIA were of toasting Pop-Tarts to perfection on the expensive rotating deck ovens in the pastry shop there. She loved great food and she loved junk food. High and low coexisting in her pantry were not a contradiction to her.

She and I only overlapped a few weeks in the pastry shop at the Four Seasons. I didn't like our boss, he didn't like me, so I moved on to the fish station on the dining room line. Somehow mich'l and I started talking and I realized I actually liked her. She had a cynical streak, spoke her mind, and raced around the kitchen as if on fire. She loved sweets, too, and we talked a lot about sugar. She introduced me to my favorite chocolate cake recipe. And though you would never have guessed it if you saw us now, we also shared a love for extreme music, though her salad days were shows at Gilman Street in Berkeley, when she was a punk, and mine were in Boston and Japan, where I developed a love for noise.

On our overlapping days off we would go junk food browsing - we'd hit the local Target and walk its aisles, reminiscing about our favorite candy. We didn't buy much - it was more about browsing. We didn't have much money to spend, either - the Four Seasons didn't pay well at our level, though they did supply benefits and a 401K.

Mich'l and I haven't lived in the same city since 2000. I always try to visit her wherever she lives, but since she and X moved to Egypt it has been hard. Once a year mich'l puts together an amazing care package, full of Japanese treats (she knows I love them, and she does too) and goodies from wherever it is she has traveled to.

This year it was a Turkish/Japanese care package. Right before coming back to the US for a several-month visit, mich'l and X went to Istanbul. She picked up a few treats for me - a bracelet to ward off the evil eye (lord knows I could have used it in 2008 when I was laid off twice), gum with both coffee and mint flavor (stinks and freshens breath at the same time!), chocolate halva (how did she know I love it?), and some fresh ground Turkish coffee from one of the premier roasters in Istanbul (too bad that they didn't offer to vacuum pack it for her - I know it will be a mere shadow of what it was a week earlier). She also raided her local Japanese goods shop, and sent me a mochi-center candy surrounded by toasted soy powder-flavor white chocolate (kinako mochi candy!), a little plastic set of Kyoto-style pastries (I collect tiny Japanese pastries in plastic...the sets are so fun!) and heart-shaped caramels with a tiny hamster-sized children's book.

If I had to choose one thing that I adored about the care package (other than the thought and care that went into it) is the packaging on the kinako mochi "chocolate":

The ghostly mochi character looks remarkably like...the SHMOO!

If the Shmoo were made of mochi, I think I'd actually like him. Or, rather, I'd like to eat him. Especially if he were filled with sweet azuki beans and rolled in kinako.

Kinpira - burdock and carrot, Japanese Style

Every Monday night, Nell and Doug host a movie night in the screening room of their house in Cambridge. I don't know how many years they've been doing it - I've been going off and on since the early 2000s, but I know it has been going on even longer. They take a break over the summer; the rest of the year, a rotating cast of friends, recent and historical, curate 8 week 'series' of loosely connected films. The movie night is open to all - well, at least all who know someone who knows Nell and Doug.

Before the movie, a vegan meal is served, though cheese and other non-vegan condiments are available. Doug and Nell have an uncanny memory for the dinners they serve. When I showed up at their house two weeks ago, Doug, recalling a meal I had shared with them in late spring, apologized for serving pasta again. Of course I remembered that meal (it was a very good pesto) but Doug, who has since served dozens of movie night dinners to legions, recalled it with startling acuity. 

It is hard if not impossible to attend movie night without a treat in hand. Guests' contributions vary. This past week, before a screening of the early Jack Nicholson flick Five Easy Pieces, one guest brought a just-baked chocolate and banana bundt cake, another brought candied kiwis. There were assorted small containers of wasabi peas and a few other things I didn't even see because I arrived a little late (argh! Why do the suburbs have to be so far from Cambridge? Don't answer, it is just me whining). I'm not sure how I had been wasting my day, but suddenly I looked at the clock and it was 5 pm. I had to leave by 6:30 to get there in time, and I had no time to shop or bake or do anything remotely well-planned.

I considered asparagus souffle.  But the idea of bringing not-yet-in-season produce to the dinner brought me down. Plus I would probably screw it up and end up bringing some rubbery, mockable mess. Rooting around the produce drawer (I'm trying to use up as much of the vegetables as I can before my mom gets home from Florida), I found a forgotten stash of burdock, one of my favorite crunchy vegetables. It was left over from a dinner party several weeks earlier and now was just sitting there, sad, waiting to be eaten. So I complied. Kinpira Gobo was going to be my contribution to the meal.

Kinpira Gobo (金平牛蒡),  sauteed and simmered burdock root with, usually, carrot, is one of my favorite Japanese side dishes. First exposed to it during a homestay outside of Tokyo when I was 16, I continue to make it whenever I happen to notice burdock in the store. Which is not all that rare, as I tend to shop the Japanese grocery stores whenever I can (it is also available in Chinese markets - I haven't checked Korean markets so you'll have to tell me if it is stocked there too).

Burdock, a long, thin, bark-colored root that measures anywhere from 1 to 3 feet, is an easy-to-cultivate thistle, renowned for its 'blood purifying' and diuretic qualities when concentrated in its dry form. Its' dark, woody exterior must be peeled off before use, and the white flesh of the root oxidizes quickly (and browns) if left out. This isn't a problem - as it cooks, it browns all over and becomes a golden straw color (my friend Becky wants you to know that raw burdock can stain your hands, though I've never experienced it. Wear rubber or plastic gloves if you are concerned).

The crunch of the cooked burdock root pairs well with its mild flavor. The simmer sauce/glaze - basically a combination of soy and sake and sugar (in the ratio of 3:3:1) is finished with a bit of sesame oil and, if desired, a dash of shichimi togarashi (seven spice blend) or, if unavailable, cayenne.

"Kinpira" - the cooking technique - is a saute followed by a simmer. Kinpira is a fast cooking technique and imparts a ton of flavor in a short period of time. It is always the same regardless of the dish cooked in that manner.  I like a version with hijiki seaweek, carrot, and tofu - it may, in fact, be one of my favorite dishes of all time. In this recipe I pair carrot with the burdock - a very traditional combination. The sweet softness of the carrot is an appealing contrast to the subtle flavor and harder crunch of the burdock.

Here's the basic recipe I used:

Cake & Commerce's Kinpira Gobo

• 1-2 large carrots, Julienned
• 1 large burdock root, Julienned (you can soak in water after cutting if you don't want to watch it oxidize - remember to dry as much as possible before cooking).
• 1 t sesame seeds raw (toasted is fine too)
• 2 t sesame oil + 1 t peanut oil
• 1 T sake
• 1 T soy sauce (gluten-free for all my celiac pals)
• 1 t sugar (substitute coconut sugar or agave syrup)
• 1/4 t OR LESS cayenne or shichimi togarashi (optional, but makes for a nice kick)

Combine sake, soy sauce and sugar. Heat oil in large saute pan with lid. If using raw sesame, add to the oil and allow to cook for a couple minutes - add carrot and burdock when sesame is no longer translucent. Saute for about 2-3 minutes. Add in soy/sake/sugar combo, and simmer gently with a lid for about 10 minutes. Check from time to time to make sure liquid has not entirely evaporated and give mixture a stir. When the carrots and burdock are mostly cooked, uncover pan and allow to finish cooking - there should be no liquid left in the pan. Finish with the cayenne (or shichimi) and a touch more sesame oil if desired.

Serve at room temperature.

The forgiving crowd at movie night downed the kinpira in record time even though it clashed with the main dish of the meal - a killer vegan chili, made by Doug. Nell chastised me for not having the recipe up on the blog. So Nell, for you, the recipe. A few days late, but I hope not too late.