Sushi Says I'm Sorry

Dear Readers,

I apologize. It's been too long since my last post. I assure you that I've been cooking (and eating!) . . . I just haven't been taking very many pictures or setting aside the time to write. But just to prove to you that I've been busy in the kitchen, I'm posting pictures of some futomaki sushi that I made a couple of weeks ago:

1) The "guts" of my sushi: cucumber sticks, simmered (dried then revived) shiitake mushrooms, imitation crab, blanched spinach, fried egg, avocado, and blanched carrots. I also used some anago kabayaki (barbequed salt-water eel).

2) My work station, all set up with a pan of sushi rice, toasted sheets of nori (dried seaweed), and my plate of goodies.

3) A work in progress.

4) A plate of finished futomaki sushi. I made different kinds using different combinations of ingredients.

When I was a kid, my mom would often let me help when she made sushi. The two of us would sit next to the open sliding glass door at my grandparents' house in Makiki, fanning a steaming pan of sushi rice. My favorite part of sushi-making with my mom was that she always let me eat the rejects and the end pieces when she sliced the rolls. I used to stand over her like a little vulture, praying that she'd make a mistake so I could have another piece.

My solo sushi-making adventure was a totally exhausting, time-consuming and fun experience. My recipe for the rice is still a work in progress--I struggled with the texture (too sticky!) and balance of flavor. I also had trouble with the egg, which is supposed to be delicately and evenly fried.

Last, I think I need a sharper knife, because slicing the sushi without smushing or bursting or disfiguring it was a real challenge. Or maybe I was sabotaged by my subconscious . . . Did I secretly want all of those delicious rejected pieces to myself?

Ground Turkey Gyoza

I thought that after I got the Seigen restaurant review off of my chest I would give you the first recipe in the "Cats-up" series. But here I am, sidetracked yet again.

This week I received the following request from my childhood friend Michele: "I need new inspirations for chicken dishes and asian noodle dishes that aren't ramen." So Michele, this one is for you. I'm not sure if you've tried it yet, but I recently made wildly successful gyoza (pot stickers) using ground turkey (you can use ground chicken, too). This recipe is perfect for those of you like Michele who don't eat four-legged animals. They were as good as, if not better than, the traditional kind made with pork.

Ingredients: (This recipe makes at least 50 pot stickers, probably more)

• 1-1/4 lb. ground turkey
• gyoza wrappers (make sure they're not previously frozen, they'll stick together)
  
• green onions, chopped
• chives, chopped
• cabbage, chopped
• 2 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 egg
• a splash of shoyu
• a splash of water
  
• a tiny drizzle of sesame seed oil (be careful, its flavor is very strong)
• salt, pepper, and garlic powder

Just mix up all of the ingredients except the wrappers in a big bowl. Then spoon a little bit of the filling (don't over-fill because your gyoza will burst when you cook them) onto the wrapper. Wet the edge of one half of the wrapper with water, then fold it over the filling and pinch it closed.

To cook them, heat a little bit of canola oil in a frying pan or a high-sided skillet on medium high heat. Place the gyoza in the pan in a single layer. Add some water (1/2-2/3 cup should be enough) and cover the pan. Cook until the water has evaporated (if you're not sure about the cooking time, cooking longer won't hurt . . . it's better to err on the side of caution when cooking raw poultry. And there's no such thing as over-cooking ground turkey. The texture holds). Last, take the cover off and let the gyoza fry, flipping once. They should be golden brown.



What to do if you make more than you can eat in one sitting (and you probably will):

• Gyoza freezes well. Just lay the raw gyoza in a single layer on a baking sheet and stick it in the freezer for about 45 minutes. This step is necesary because if you dump them all in a bag when they're fresh, they'll get stuck together. After that, you can put them in a ziploc freezer bag and keep them in the freezer for up to three months.

• Leftovers are best in soup. This last picture shows what I did with my frozen gyoza two weeks after I made them. I made a quick soup of boxed chicken stock, water, shoyu, salt, pepper, and a drop of sesame oil. I dropped the gyoza in, then let the soup come to a boil. I let it continue to boil until the gyoza float to the top--that's when you know they're done. You can also add noodles or veggies to this to make it a hearty meal.

Char Siu Chow Fun

Just in case you were wondering about the chow fun I mentioned in my previous post--here are some pictures.

1) Char siu (Chinese barbequed pork), onions, celery, and scallions, chopped up and ready to go. (I wish I had had some bean sprouts on hand . . . I would've used those, too.)

2) Into the hot wok they go, accompanied by some oyster sauce, soy sauce, a whole garlic clove, and a couple of slices of ginger. I removed the garlic and ginger after this step--I just wanted them to lend their flavor and aroma.

3) Then I added the rice noodles, and some salt and pepper.

4) All done! The whole dish, including prep time, only took 20 minutes. It was delicious (am I allowed to say that about my own cooking?).

How to Make a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

While earning my MBA at Mills College in Oakland, I took a course called Business Communication, taught by Professors Barbara Blissert and Ileen Erickson.

One evening, the other students and I entered the classroom to find a loaf of bread, some paper plates, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of grape jelly sitting on the front table. The starving student in me thought, "Yum. I wouldn't mind having a free dinner tonight." I sat down, eyeing the food on the table in anticipation. But our professors had something entirely different planned.

Our assignment that evening was called "How to Make a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich." Each of us had fifteen minutes to write the directions for making a basic PB&J. After our time was up, we handed our papers to a teacher's assistant. She selected a sheet at random and began following the directions written on it word for word, as if she had never made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before.

The resulting sandwich was a mess: several slices of bread in a haphazard pile, covered with sticky grape jelly on the outside and a large scoop of un-spread peanut butter on the inside. The student had written "some bread" instead of "one slice," and she hadn't specified which sides of the bread to stick together. The demonstration, in all of its absurdity, was meant to teach us concise and explicit communication.

So for all of you PB&J-lovers out there, here is my concise and explicit recipe for the PB&J's cousin, Jasmine's Peanut Butter, Fried Banana and Honey Sandwich (trust me, it's good).

Ingredients:

• 2 slices of whole-wheat bread
  
• 2-1/2 to 3 tbsp chunky peanut butter
• 1 banana
  
• 1 tbsp honey
• a drizzle of canola oil to coat the pan
  
• a sprinkle of cayenne pepper
  

Directions:

1. Place the two slices of bread side by side on a large plate.
   
2. Spread the peanut butter onto the face of one of the slices of bread with a butter knife.
   
3. Drizzle the honey evenly onto the face of the remaining plain slice of bread.
4. Preheat the canola oil in a small frying pan on a stovetop to medium-high heat.
   
5. Peel the banana, discard the peel, then slice its flesh into even quarters, slicing once lengthwise and once across.
   
6. Place the pieces of banana into the preheated oil, long flat side down.
7. Let the banana fry for about two minutes. Using a pair of tongs, flip each piece of banana onto its long uncooked side and let it fry for another two to three minutes, until it caramelizes.
   
8. Sprinkle the cooked banana with a teensy bit of cayenne pepper for an unexpected kick.
   
9. Remove the banana pieces from the frying pan and distribute them evenly onto the peanut-buttered face of bread.
   
10. Complete the sandwich by placing the honey-covered piece of bread (honey side down) on top of the banana. Now it's ready to eat!
    

Thanksgiving Leftovers: NOT "Rascal-do," It's "Arroz Caldo"

The turkey we bought this Thanksgiving was much too large. It was over 26 pounds--four times the weight of my dog. Maybe this only happens when the person shopping for the turkey is an over-enthused and un-fed man. Or maybe a 26-pounder was the smallest bird available at Costco. Whatever the reason, the same question remained on Friday morning: What does a girl do with the leftovers?

My dad taught me never to waste food. So this year, like all years, I carefully removed every shred of meat. I disassembled Mr. Turkey bone by bone. Then I made two important decisions: 1) No turkey sandwiches. And 2) No American food.

My U.S.-raised Filipino boyfriend had once told me about a dish that his mom used to make called "Rascal-do." He said it was similar to a Chinese congee, or rice soup. So I ventured online looking for the perfect Rascal-do recipe that I could make with my leftover turkey. I didn't find one. In fact I didn't find any--and I was soon convinced that such a dish did not exist.

But fifteen more minutes of Googling yielded results: the dish I was looking for is actually called "Arroz Caldo," which literally translated, means "hot rice." The common ingredients in all of the recipes I found were short-grain rice, chicken, ginger and garlic. I, of course, had to use up that turkey. And my rebellious Chinese soul felt compelled to add a couple of ingredients that reminded me of the congee I ate as a kid. The resulting recipe follows.

Ingredients (I don't measure, so these are all approximate):

• turkey bones (just the big ones from a whole turkey)
• water, just enough to give the bones a nice bath (as my mom would say)
  
• 2 cups shredded turkey meat
  
• 1-1/2 cups short-grain white rice, rinsed
  
• 1 knob fresh young ginger, peeled and quartered
  
• 4 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1 bunch of scallions, chopped
• a small handful of cilantro, coarsely chopped
  
• juice from 1 lemon
  
• 1 tsp fish sauce
• salt and pepper
  

Here's what I did with those ingredients: First I made a simple turkey stock by bringing the bone-bath to a boil in a large stock pot, then turning the heat down to medium and letting it simmer for two hours. After that, I removed the fat and bones from the stock and added the uncooked rice, chunks of ginger and minced garlic. I let the mixture simmer, stirring it frequently (the rice gets stuck to the bottom of the pot if you don't) until it reached a porridge-consistency, about 45 minutes. Then I removed the ginger chunks--they were just in there for flavor--and the rest of the ingredients went into the pot with a quick stir.

My Thanksgiving turkey arroz caldo was a success. I especially liked the fragrant ginger, the bright citrus flavor of the lemon and the richness of the homemade turkey stock. It was gone before I even had a chance to take a photo of it. So maybe next year, you'll make your own version of this hearty peasant dish. And if you do, you'll have to send me your photos and tell me all about it.