I still vividly remember the first day Kim Smith taught us how to make these heavenly delicious orange rolls in pastry class. They are incredibly light and fluffy, yet very flavorful.
I started making these rolls every weekend in 2003 when I opened Hiroki, my bakery in Seattle. They became popular quickly and got write-ups in “Seattle Magazine” and other publications. Even after all these years, they are still one of the best-selling items.
Orange rolls made in a Bundt pan
I made them the other day with my son at the UpCountry. He loved them so much, he ate two. I love passing my passion for good food on to the next generation.
I went with a tandoori marinade and then deep-fried …
Tandoori karaage
Japanese-style fried chicken is one of my absolutely favorite foods. Literally meaning “bare (kara) fry (age),” karaage is so named because it has only a thin coating of seasoned wheat flour or potato starch as opposed to a more substantial “koromo,” or coating.
Typically made with chicken, the karaage preparation has a wide range of variations from sanzoku-yaki (mountain bandit cooking) in Nagano to zangi in Hokkaido. I usually make it using a simple mix of soy sauce and sake to marinate the chicken, and them dip into katakuriko (potato starch) before frying until crisp. (Adding garlic and ginger to the marinade is also a great way to go!)
The other day, I wanted to experiment with this classic. I went with a tandoori marinade and then deep-fried with the typical katakuriko. The experiment was a success. The chicken came out tender and succulent and worked as a great friend of a nice saison or a hazy citrusy IPA.
Who doesn’t love fried chicken? Karaage is cut into pieces two or three bites in size and is usually boned, making it a great comfort food for lunch or dinner, as well as a fun appetizer to kick off a party.
When I was growing up in Osaka, takoyaki was one of my favorite snacks. Originally from Osaka, this tasty treat has spread throughout Japan and abroad, including the US. Nevertheless, Osaka is the place to go for takoyaki. Everywhere you go in the city, stalls and shops offer endless variations on this scrumptious snack.
Takoyaki starts with a batter that is poured into a special griddle with half-spheres. A small piece of octopus (tako) is placed in each one. As the batter on the bottom half cooks, the takoyaki balls are rotated for even cooking. When done, they are typically covered with takoyaki sauce, katsuobushi (bonito flakes), aonori (seaweed) and mayonnaise.
A takoyaki-ki, or takoyaki griddle (from Wikipedia)
For the octopus-squeamish, don’t worry! The small bit of octopus is so overwhelmed by all of the flavors, you may not even notice the slightly chewy texture of the octopus.
A takoyaki stall, probably at a festival (from Wikipedia)
I remember growing up in the industrial Osaka suburbs, where small factories and metal shops flourished. Across from our tiny row house, a woman made takoyaki in her house to earn extra money on the side. I would stop by almost every day after school to buy some. Ten for 50 yen, or about half a dollar.
They come with toothpicks for eating. The takoyaki are so hot, it’s almost a game trying to enjoy the flavor while not burning your mouth!
I have a small takoyaki griddle now and will pull it out on occasion. As I turn the balls in the griddle, I feel nostalgic for my childhood.
Since I cook for a living, UpCountry customers often ask what I eat at home.
Well, a lot of cooks don’t like to cook at home (one chef whose cooking I really admire eats cereal), and I’m no different. As often as not, I’ll just assemble UpCountry leftovers for a meal.
Pork tenderloin with sautéed shiitake sauce
Here’s a recent assemblage I had at home: pork tenderloin decorated with a sauce of sautéed shiitake, a sticky-rice-and-asparagus spring roll, and blanched baby cauliflower.
That’s fancier fare than usual, though, as meals at home are typically simple affairs. My biggest consideration is the ingredients: I buy organic, free range, local, and natural raw ingredients whenever possible. Just like at the UpCountry, I keep seasonings to a minimum so the true flavors of the ingredients can shine. Probably my favorite seasoning is a good olive oil.
Pan-fried chicken breast with couscous
This is more the normal fare at home. While it might look fancy, it’s merely a piece of pan-fried chicken breast, some couscous and leftover vegetable ends plated together.
The nice thing about starting from scratch is that everything is edible! I don’t throw anything away, and never peel vegetables. The skin is the best part. If you’ve got some veggie parts you just don’t want to use, throw them into a pot and make vegetable stock!
And you know, a visit to the Porterhouse for a pint of beer and a basket of their delicious fries and then maybe a schooner of beer to top it off is a great way to get out of the kitchen—about once a week is how I roll!
Moist and tender, kālua (“underground” in Hawaiian) pork is a favorite food of mine, particularly when visiting Hawaii. Traditionally made in an underground pit called an imu, the pork is covered in banana or ti leaves to keep in the moisture during the cooking process.
James Temple has a good blog post on his Tasting Hawaiʻi blog about the traditional cooking method with lots of pictures.
If you’re like me, though, digging an imu, lining it with coals, and getting the ti leaves ready might be a little too much. When I’m in the mood for kālua pork, I make it in an oven, above the ground!
The biggest surprise about kālua pork—other than how good it is—is how easy it is to make. Typically, kālua pork made in the oven is started with brining the pork in a simple mixture of water and salt, but I find that too salty for my taste.
I take some pork shoulder, sprinkle coarse Hawaiian sea salt called alaea sea salt on it, and then add black pepper, garlic, ginger and a bit of liquid smoke. I place this in a deep roasting pan, wrap the whole thing with foil and bake in the oven for five hours.
The universal appeal of Chinese cooking cannot be denied. Drawing on cooking traditions of the many ethnic peoples around China, “Chinese food” is an eclectic cuisine.
And not only is it eclectic, it is flexible. Around the world, you will find Chinese restaurants serving a variety of Chinese flavors modified for the local palate.
In Japan, just like in other countries of the world, Chinese food is a favorite, and one of the biggest surprises I had when I came to the US was how different the Chinese food is. One of my favorite Chinese dishes in Japan is subuta, which is basically sweet-and-sour pork. But it’s far sweeter here than in Japan and the color isn’t red. Of course, the Japanese name subuta literally means “vinegar pork,” so I suppose it’s actually a different dish.
In any case, here’s my version: Add garlic, ginger, green onions and caramelized apple to a sweet-and-sour sauce having a soy sauce base. Quickly toss fried pork into the sauce and thicken with potato starch.
“Itadakimasu!” as we say in Japanese before partaking in a meal
The beauty you find in Kyoto cannot be adequately described with words. The area is filled with Buddhist temples, Shinto shrines and private gardens that have been meticulously attended to for centuries, creating enclaves of wonder.
These are pictures I took on a trip back to Japan in fall 2017. Walking around Kyoto, I stumbled across this temple ground and went in. The beauty I find in Kyoto still astonishes me even though I was born and raised in Japan.
I still remember making them with her when I was in elementary school in Japan. Stuff the skin and seal it tight, stuff the skin and seal it tight, stuff the skin and seal it tight, the crinkles forming gradually faster as my fingers learned the routine.
When I became an adult, throwing gyoza parties just seemed like a natural thing to do. I would get shiitake, napa cabbage, gyoza skins and the other ingredients together, wrap them up and then fry them in batches when my friends arrived. I hosted innumerable gyoza parties both here and in Japan long before I had any inkling that I would become a cook.
There is no recipe I use when making gyoza. The childhood memories of how my mom did it lay the path for me to follow.
Croissants: Out of the oven and on the cooling rack!
The croissant is a study of balance. The layers should be thin, ideally formed with a sheeter (either automatic or manual, see “Making croissant dough”). As the layers are folded on each other (lamination), butter is added. If the temperature is too cold, the butter will not spread, and if the temperature is too warm, the dough will absorb too much butter–a croissant should be buttery but not oily. Also, an appropriate humidity level is required while the dough is rising (proofing). And then there is baking, which requires just enough time to get the croissants slightly brown and crisp on the outside while ensuring a fluffy interior.
Making croissants by hand is a challenge I take delight in. Without a dough sheeter, I must take extra care in the process. Practice and experience are needed to find that sweet spot of croissant excellence.
The layers of my handmade croissants are certainly not as thin as machine-made ones, but they I believe you can sense and taste the care and love that I put into their making. When I get the urge to make croissants, I am reminded of how I once was a baker, a job I both loved and yet did not love so much at the same time. Perhaps I have found my balance, too.
For this dish, I started by sautéing some leeks and garlic …
Orecchiette and chanterelles
Orecchiette is one of my favorite kinds of pasta to make … and eat!
For this dish, I started by sautéing some leeks and garlic for the base flavor. Then I added some cream, Gorgonzola dolce (cheese), kabocha purée and some pasta water. Into the sauce, I tossed orecchiette boiled al dente.
Finally, I quick-sautéed chanterelles in garlic butter to accompany the orecchiette. Buon appetito!
