plate 46: japan

Whenever I go out for Japanese, gyoza are one of my three starter staples (along with edamame and agadashi tofu), so they were an obvious choice for this week's culinary adventure. Not dissimilar from the Chinese wontons I made in week 6, gyoza are actually traditionally Chinese, so that would explain it! But these little parcels were adopted many moons ago by the Japanese. The lovely Al Pal, who has recently returned from Japan, said they were all over the country, even more so than sushi.

I upped the challenge by making the dough from scratch, rather than buying pre-made gyoza wrappers. It all went fine apart from a sticky start and being showered in flour (I know, I know, I need to embrace mess if I'm going to become a better cook), which I needed a lot of it to keep things soft and smooth...as an ear lobe as my recipe instructed. The other problem was that I didn't really leave myself enough time. I'd planned a whole gyoza-making Sunday afternoon, but shoe shopping beckoned so that plan was foiled. (Success on the shoe front though.)

Given the lack of time, I was slightly impatient and rushing to get the gyoza done so we wouldn't be eating at midnight. Being squiriferously* mannered, AJ did some wrapping and rolling too to speed things up a little. Thanks babe.

Making the mixture was of course super easy. Just mush up some minced pork, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil, shallot and cabbage in a bowl and spoon a teeny bit into the middle of a little circle (or in our case, hearts, maps of Australia and other unidentifiable shapes) of dough, then fold over. Given our "creativity", the gyoza weren't the neatest looking little things, so I wasn't feeling overly optimistic about the flavour.

But how wrong I was! To cook them, fry them off in some oil (you need quite a bit otherwise they'll stick and split a little, as I learned) then add cold water to the pan to come halfway up the side of the gyoza to let them cook for a few minutes. Easy peasy.

Hot off the pan and dipped into a mixture of soy sauce and vinegar, they were dinner deliciousness. Very moreish and tasted all the better for having handmade the dough.

Next course came a few nights later. I cooked a soba noodle recipe from a cute little blog I stumbled across called Sumo Kitchen by a Japanese girl living in Sydney. She lavished so much praise on soba, including its A-mazing health benefits, that I couldn't ignore it.

This dish had a few elements. You make a broth first with mirin, soy sauce, shiitake mushrooms and dried fish flakes (that you need to, ahem, fish out with a slotted spoon - a bit of a laborious task, just use fish stock), which once simmered is poured over chicken cooked with diced shallot and carrot so all the flavours jumble together. Quickly cook the noodles, then artfully present on a platter and top with strips of seaweed. Pop the chicken mixture in a separate bowl, then to serve, dish up some soba into a small bowl and top with a bit of chicken mixture. Silky-soft soba, slippery slimy shiitake and salty soy made sweet, sweet music in my mouth.

Speaking of music, coincidentally I heard an interview on Triple J the other morning with Japanese sound artist Mamoru Okuno. He makes music from noises created by foodstuffs - noodle slurping, plastic wrap unfurling and other such quirky tunes. And I quote him when I say making noise while eating in Japan is a sign of respect and enjoyment. Happy slurping everyone! x

*Don't worry, I didn't know what squiriferous meant until yesterday either. It's an adjective, meaning having the characteristics or qualities of a gentleman. I found it out through a cool campaign The Oxford Dictionary is running about sponsoring words to save them. Sponsor your very own here, and promise to love it and nurture it.