Shokuhin Poruno "à la" Sakedokoro Makoto

Yes, for the knowledgeable folks out there, the title of this blog post is an amalgamation (or blasphemy) of Japanese and French using American idiomatic syntax.  But this post is about food porn, so please just salivate over the pictures and feel free to extend some liberties on the title.

One month ago, I made reservations with friends at Sakedokoro Makoto, an upscale establishment owned by chef Gene Itoh specializing in omakase style dining.  With roots in Japanese culture, omakase is a less formal type of traditional dining that has also been adapted in America to take on the characteristic of a chef's tasting menu, European style. Purists might actually tell you that likening omakase to a chef's tasting menu is entirely missing the point.  Whereas a tasting menu is used to showcase a chef's artistic skills, seasonal ingredients, regional specialties, and so on, omakase dining exists on a deeper relational level.  This is certainly an opportunity for a chef of Japanese cuisine to show off his or her art; however, omakase is about the chef's real-time relationship with patron(s) and the trust placed in the hands of the chef.  This style of dining is intimate such that the chef is expected to gauge the patrons' reactions from one course and adjust for the next, thereby maximizing dining pleasure.  And although I am no expert on Japanese culture, old or new, I daresay omakase is a deep concept with origins in old Japan.  It applies generally to many forms of vendor-customer relationships, not just those in the restaurant industry.

Based on the purists' definition of omakase dining and my experience at Makoto, I would say that Chef Itoh definitely takes liberties on this dining style.  There was a defined menu for the night, and while the small restaurant space was cozy, intimate, and traditional, we had no contact with any of the chefs.  That is not to say the menu did not impress--most of it did.  Tack onto that eight out of nine courses being paired with a specific variety of sake from the earthy to the smooth to even the sparkling, and I would say it was a successful meal.  For the pictures below, hover over for English descriptions..

And before I present the food porn, I want to give a shout out to my friend Toby for hauling ass back from New York City to share a great meal.

Course One: Owanmono. Robusuta no Tosazu Jure' Sarada.

Course Two: Kobachi. Yaki Hotate, Uni no Kuriimu Sauce. Uzura no Oriibu Oiruae. Hokkeigai Nuttaae. Masu no Kobujime, Tobikokake.

Course Three: Kuchigawari. Tenaga Ebi no Oriibu Fuumi, Burande Frambei.

Course Four: Tsukuri. Maguro, Toro, Kanpachi, Kurodai.

Course Five: Agemono. Otosan no Watari - Gani, Okakiage.

Special Course of the Day: Japanese Seared Beef.

Course Six: Yakimono. Yaki Orenjirafi.

Course Seven: Sushi. Hirame Chimaki, Shake Hakosushi, Soba Sushi.

Course Eight: Dessert. Budo no Grand Marnier Fuumi Shabeto.

Still reading?  I am impressed!  Here are the highlights, the "good," and the "not impressed":

Highlights:

• Course One contained ample lobster meat but kept balance with other flavors.
• Part of Course Two, the seared sea scallop with sea urchin cream sauce and topped with flying fish roe.  Divine.
• Also part of Course Two, the salmon topped with wasabi flying fish roe was very tasty.
• Course Five was soft-shelled crab.  I love soft-shelled crab, and the tasting salts were great.
• The Japanese style seared beef was a slice of heaven.

Good Stuff:

• Course Three scampi tasted great and was artistically prepared.
• The amber jack sashimi in Course Four was tasty, but not really worth a $35 upgrade.
• Course Six orange roughy was prepared how it should be.

Not Impressed:

• Soba sushi.  Interesting, but not what I wanted to pay for.
• Western pastries were sub-par.  Makoto should stick with their guns and make Japanese sweets.  Although there were small Western style bakeries all over urban Japan that made really good pastries.
• I feel bad about this one, but the sorbet was lost on me.

Making Fresh Mint Tea

Years ago, before I formed any prejudices carried into adulthood, before I came to love science and food and learning, before I had any well-defined hobbies at all, there was a transformative glass of mint tea.  Those days were filled with exploring the landlady's backyard.  I wrecked flower beds and made 75 percent imaginary stick forts to ward off opponents unseen.  I tried to catch squirrels and rabbits and groundhogs all the while avoiding the graveyard behind the landlady's property.  Up until that point, tea was a hot, bitter, acidic concoction that my giant of a father drank while reading a book.  Or a newspaper.  He was always reading.

I remember there was a patch of garden I was particularly fond of behind a white wooden shed with green window frames and roofing.  In that patch grew tall stalks of mint.  Actually, those stalks were probably not that tall , but I was a very short child.  I enjoyed going to that patch to bruise a leaf and take a strong whiff of mint.  I was fascinated that the scent exhaled by this plant matched the taste of those red and white starlight mints.  What a curious plant, I thought.

A few months later, the landlady invited me to her home.  And it was there that I had my first glass of home brewed mint tea.  It was surprisingly good, with notes of mint that were prominent but not overpowering like those in chewing gum and candies.  I also remember that the tea was a striking green color, and I did not make the connection to my favorite playing-plants until the landlady showed me the used leaves and stalks.  How fascinating that was.  A pleasant tasting tea brewed directly from plants that were alive just moments ago.  Nothing like the dark loose-leaf brew that left stains on my father's white mugs.

Come to think of it, the tea was probably not that noteworthy, but it made an impression on me such that it has occupied a node in my memories for the last eighteen years.  So it is with fondness that I brewed my own mint tea with leaves that I bought for another dessert (which I incidentally botched).  Given that it is summer, I let the tea cool and made iced tea.

1 bundle fresh stalks of mint, rinsed

1 pitcher of water

10-15 drops of lemon (or lime) juice

2 tablespoons honey, or to taste

1. Boil the pitcher of water in a pot and then immediately shut off the heat.
2. Set aside a few (4 to 5) stalks of mint.  Bruise the remaining stalks by rubbing the bundle between your palms and steep the stalks in hot water for 15+ minutes.  Fresh mint tea will not become bitter even if you steep for a very long time.
3. Remove the used mint leaves and add lemon (or lime) juice.  Stir in honey while the tea is hot.
4. Allow the tea to cool to approximately room temperature and pour into the pitcher.  Add remaining stalks of mint set aside earlier and refrigerate the tea.

Explorations into Coconut Oil

Recently, I made banana bread with a cheesy twist, which turned out to be pretty tasty as expected.  The recipe happened to call for coconut oil, an ingredient whose existence was unknown to me before.  This oil, of course, was sold in quantities that would make seven times the loaves I desired.  On top of that, coconut oil was expensive.  Yes, I happened to buy it at the overpriced-hipster-organic store across the street--Whole Foods--but I wanted to make sure I did not make a pointless trip to the regular supermarket only to learn they do not carry the oil.

So in the interest of economics and minimizing food waste, I attempted to make good on my purchase.  Three times, in fact.  I actually did not plan it out this way, but I ended up making a beverage, an entree, and a dessert.

• Monday: Coconut Pumpkin Spice Smoothie
• Tuesday: Coconut Merlot Lamb Curry
• Friday: Honeydew Sago

Coconut Pumpkin Spice Smoothie

The smoothie turned out to be quite tasty with the addition of honey as a sweetener and cinnamon to spice things up (pun intended).  The recipe I used involved three parts 1% Lowfat Milk to one part canned pumpkin, 2-3 teaspoons of honey (or to taste), 2 teaspoons of melted coconut oil, and a dash of cinnamon garnish.  Everything except the cinnamon was blended together in a food processor, and then the cinnamon was sprinkled on afterward.

The can of pumpkins I used was two years old.  I purchased two cans back in 2012 to make two pumpkin pies, but the second pie never materialized.  So the age of the canned pumpkins might explain why each gulp left a very light acerbic aftertaste.  Or perhaps that is simply a property of pumpkins that needs to be dealt with.

The final idea I want to record here is that I now understand why Starbucks will never put a pumpkin latte on their menu.  It is always pumpkin spice.  I tried a glass of the coconut pumpkin smoothie without cinnamon, and it tasted drastically different.  While it was good without cinnamon, the spice really takes it to the next level.

Coconut Merlot Lamb Curry

This was actually my first time making a curry, so it was a surprise to me that most of the substance in the curry came from tomatoes and onions.  (I get this feeling one of my Indian friends have told me this before during dinner.)  So why Merlot?  I read that some curries include wine for dimension.  So I added some from a $3 bottle of red.  Actually, many foodies are of the opinion that there is no such thing as "cooking wine," and you should only cook with wine that you would be happy drinking.  Well, I will cook with a nice wine when my name appears in an issue of Forbes magazine.

Other ingredients used include substantial amounts of the following: vindaloo curry mixture, paprika, coriander, cumin, cayenne pepper, and coconut oil.  As pictured, I used chopped green onions for garnish and a platter of rice to accompany the curry.  As this curry was a decent departure from Indian cuisine, I felt comfortable using rice regularly preferred by East Asians.

Honeydew Sago

This dessert, 蜜瓜西米露, is a variation on a classic Chinese dessert involving taro, coconut milk, and tapioca made from sago palm trees.  Actually, this attempt was an abject failure.  First, coconut milk should be used, not dairy milk combined with coconut oil.  I thought the milk would be sufficient emulsifier to disperse the oil in the honeydew puree, but the cold milk solidified the oil.  I microwaved the batch for 25 seconds to warm it up slightly (never a good move), but I only ended up with pools of floating oil.  Now that I think about it, blending the milk and oil together in a food processor (physical agitation) would have probably been more effective.  Oh Chemistry, how you conspired to thwart my dessert.

In addition, the picture tells it all: proportions were completely off.  The honeydew was likely smaller than expected by the recipe, so there was less honeydew puree to milk.  The dessert ended up much more watery (and watered down) as a result.  I attempted to dress it up anyway with some fresh mint leaves.

Likely, the biggest problem of all was never having eaten honeydew sago (only the more common taro variety).  This is how it should turn out.  My conclusion is that I have a ways to go before I am ready to make even the simplest Chinese desserts.

So in the end, two out of three dishes were successful.  Not bad, considering 66% would have been a dream score on some of my college finals.  Even all these attempts could only use up two thirds of the jar I purchased.  Luckily, an opened jar of coconut oil lasts a while.  So that gives me ample time to figure out other uses for this lovely ingredient.

Cream Cheese Layered Banana Bread (C&V2)

So, this happened over the weekend.

I spotted the recipe floating around on my Facebook news feed two weeks ago, and I knew I had to try it.  I only waited two weeks because I was out of town last weekend.  If anything, the anticipation made the idea--and the resulting bread--taste better.

Essentially, I combined two of my favorite sweets, cheesecake and banana bread, into one product.  My affinity for banana bread ties directly back to the idea of cooking vegetables (in this case, fruit) directly into bread, similar to my thoughts on carrot cake.  And I have already professed at length my undying love for cheesecake.  So combining the two can only make it better, right?

Well, mostly.  The cheese cake portion, having properties of cake, custard, and/or torte (apparently up for debate), was layered in order to bring out the rich and smooth properties of the cheese.  This actually paired perfectly with the bread because the cheese offered a smoother feel to each bite and a richer aspect to the banana bread.

Where I think the recipe fell a little short was in the actual bread, which turned out slightly less moist than I would have expected.  Because I like my bread moist in most cases, in the past I used a recipe that emphasized bread moisture for standalone banana bread.  This time around, although noteworthy, the lower moisture did not detract too much from overall enjoyment.  Where the banana bread lacked, the cream cheese layer actually compensated with its properties.

Next time, I will probably take steps to make the bread more moist given my preferences.  For the original recipe, please check out Averie Cooks' webpage on Cream Cheese Filled Banana Bread.  And that's it.  I thought I would try a less wordy, more "food porn" type approach this time.

Pho and the DC Metropolitan Scene

In the years since the Vietnam War, Vietnam's most well-known variant on Asian noodle soup has taken the world by storm.  Anybody can enjoy a good bowl of Asian noodle soup, but if you are Asian and you do not hate food, I am willing to bet a meal of pho that you can appreciate a good bowl when you taste one--anytime, anywhere.  If you are not Asian, I will still grab a bowl with you in exchange for good company.

As with many foods, pho has humble origins.  In this case, on the streets of Vietnam.  Through many years of preparation, consumption, and the influence of French occupation, it has evolved into its currently recognized form.  Today of course, diversity among bowls of pho is extensive.  Most connoisseurs will categorize a bowl as hailing from either Northern or Southern regions of Vietnam.  Even more discerning palates might name the provincial region based on broth, meat content, noodles, and the options for garnish and sauce add-ins.  As a foodie, I wish I had more experience so that I could fully maximize personal enjoyment based on my preferences.

It does seem to me that in the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan area, as I suspect is the case in many regions of the United States, most shops [attempt to] combine the best of every world, so to speak.  Pho 75 has done it particularly well in Metro D.C., and for the best price so far.  In the area, they offer:

• one of the most pleasing broths,
• the most variety of meat (including tripe and tendon),
• the biggest servings of meat,
• the tastiest slices of meat,
• and very crispy, fresh bean sprouts.

This should be no surprise because, as their name suggests, their raison d'être exclusive is pho.  What is surprising is their location: Pho 75 operates outside of Eden Center, Northern Virginia's premier "Vietnam Town" style shopping center.  You will find one branch of Pho 75 on a side street off of Route 50 in Falls Church, and the other on the corner of Wilson and North Quincy in Arlington.  For the exact address of the Falls Church branch, check out my page on Favorite Restaurants.

Some dining tips for the interested:

• Both branches take cash only.  On the plus side, prices are cheaper ($6.75-$7.75) because they do not need to front the additional fees assessed on businesses accepting cards.
• The Falls Church establishment puts a bottle of fish sauce at each table station.  The Arlington establishment does not carry fish sauce at all.  I asked and they said no, to my chagrin.
• The small bowl offers a higher meat and noodle to soup ratio than the large.
• Ask for raw steak, if you trust the establishment (I trust them).  It is sliced ultra thin and cooks well in the hot soup.  The end result is a very tender slice of beef.
• Good pho makes your clothes smell like good pho after the meal.  After your meal, if people are going to be offended by you smelling like beef broth, basil, and lime, consider a change of clothes.

Still having never visited Vietnam, the best pho I have ever eaten was served in a small shop in Toronto.  Unfortunately, I do not remember the name of the establishment, but if I revisit someday, I hope to find it again.

Preface a Stir Fry with Flavor Infusion

Today, I want to talk about a nifty little trick I learned as a college student under my mother's culinary tutelage.  This trick is a simple method (I would even call it a poor man's method) to add sophisticated dimensions of flavor to many dishes.  That is, the infusion of flavor into cooking oil, which is actually well-documented¹ by food blogs² and journals³ online⁴.  What makes this a personal topic of interest is that, not only does this technique enhance culinary traditions all over the world, it also lends itself naturally and quite conveniently as the preface to a mind-blowing stir-fry.

To be sure, I had no aspirations to blow minds when I batch-cooked my lunch for the work week.  Still, the technique does not care if you are cooking for yourself or for royalty--extra flavor dimensions it will add.  For my lunch, I started off by mincing garlic to a very fine state.  I would have done the same to a chunk of ginger if I had not finished that off as a dumpling ingredient.

Afterward, the key was to heat up vegetable oil to a fairly high temperature but not quite as high as I would use to cook.  Because I intended to use the oil immediately, I also sprinkled salt to taste.  I stirred in garlic at that point and let it brown slightly in the wok.  This stage is actually critical because due to the small size of the garlic, the pleasantly golden-brown pieces will quickly transform into charred, bits of bitter ruin and despair.

If I were making and storing infused oil for future use, I would cool it down at this point, decant the oil, and store it in a jar.  (Also, I would use a lot more oil in that case, not to mention more vivacious herbs or spices.)  Instead, after letting the garlic brown slightly, I added ground chicken.  A few steps later, my bento was ready for the next day.  Clearly, I have a ways to go before I am able to throw down with the best anime characters who make bento for their crushes.  And yes, I can clearly separate reality from the hyperbolic themes that Japanese animators use to poke fun at life.

Other authors have discussed to great length all the different herbs and spices that one can infuse into oil.  After slogging through Organic Chemistry 1 and 2 with lab, the process actually makes a lot of sense.  My very capable cooking instructor makes an alluring and pleasantly jarring peppercorn oil that is then used to make dishes like 蚂蚁上树 (Ants Climbing a Tree...look, don't ask me why...ask the Confucian scholar who was definitely baked when he named this dish) and 水煮鱼 (Sichuan-style boiled fish).  Sadly, my Chinese cooking proficiency is not quite high enough to make these restaurant-level dishes.  Thanks anyway to Google and the original photographers for these appetizing photos.

^1,2,3,4These superscript numbers were not meant to reference a footnote, ironically. Instead, I used them to distinguish the hyperlinks to different websites. If you are one of my former English/Language Arts teachers, please ignore what I just did. :P

Miso Glazed Eggplant with Green Tea Rice

After baking with matcha just last week, I found myself in possession of extra powder and a desire to get creative.  As a cooking ingredient, matcha is without a doubt one of the most intriguing in my experience.  It is expensive, quite unique in flavor, and always comes in quantities larger than called for by any recipe.  This would not be an issue if I were more of a self-made tea aficionado.  However, admittedly I would rather have quality tea prepared on my behalf than prepare it myself.  As a friend once commented with regard to some of my tendencies: "Bourgeois as shit."

Enter this delightful dish infused with a contemporary Japanese essence.  I claim that it is contemporary because brief research into the idea of green tea rice turned up no such fusion of Japanese tradition and modern Pan-Asian cuisine.  Indeed, this idea may draw the slightest inspiration from ochazuke, but it gives no credit to that framework.  As a foodie, I belong to the camp that values the spirit of authenticity.  So it was with solemn acknowledgement of my blasphemous undertaking that I proceeded to satiate my curiosity.  Okay, for real though: I had less concern for authenticity than this snobby paragraph projects.

The eggplants were baked in a miso and mirin based glaze that was accentuated by pastes made from fresh garlic and ginger minced to very fine grains.  A dash of low sodium soy sauce and a sprinkling of cilantro garnish rounded out the powerful profile of the miso.  The eggplant was accompanied well by the sweet, slightly tangy green tea rice, although I loathe to call the rice an accompaniment when it capably asserted its own refreshing taste.  The rice, which I soaked in water for ten hours, was perfect in texture.  To be sure, the pairing of the eggplant and rice is both elegant and aggressive as each vies to dominate your taste buds from the moment it enters your mouth.  In summarizing this dinner, I found that it satisfies leaving little to be desire, probably like how happy this cat feels.

For me, the first time making a dish is always the most fascinating because I enter the process with expectations of how the flavors and textures will be married by the finishing act.  Then I taste it.  And more often than not, there are always surprises in store.  I adapted this dish from the recipe found on blue apron, which I recently learned was "a thing."  If I could go back in time to offer myself advice, I would provide the following:

• Blue Apron calls for an entire "bundle" of cilantro.  Their idea of a bundle is definitely less than what is purchased at any supermarket.  I recommend using up to half a cup tops.  Any more and the rice takes on not only a vegetal flavor but a vegetal texture.
• White miso paste (shiromiso) is a lot harder to find that I thought it would be.  I substituted yellow miso (shinshumiso) and used a 1:1 water and soy sauce combination for the glaze while keeping the same amount of liquid as the recommended portion of soy sauce added to the glaze.
• When serving, drizzling additional soy sauce on top of the cilantro garnish only serves to intensify the eggplant, which I thought kicked the already potent miso glaze into hyperactive overdrive.
• Without black sesame seeds to provide a balancing addition to the sharper flavors, it might be worthwhile to lessen the "tang" in the rice by cutting the rice vinegar in half.

Eating is Bliss, Even in the Modern World

As a friend very appropriately puts it:

[F]ood is a very important part of my life; and as such, I like sharing it with other people. Food in the modern America has become simply a way to maintain nutrition or stave off boredom; but for some people and cultures in the world, it is a social necessity and ritual. I happen to be one of those people; food is integral. It both creates and prevents mental instability (the irony of cooking a good meal), and it can be an utterly euphoric experience.

If you like that philosophy, or just for great food experiences and recipes to come, check out this fellow foodie's page: http://myumai.wordpress.com/.