In my opinion, the most exciting thing about traveling is trying new food. I was a bit intimidated by how different Japan would be; I had no knowledge of how to speak or read Japanese, I knew very little about Japanese culture (except was perpetrated by the media), and I was nervous about my role as a "gaijin", an outsider, in a suburban environment. However, one thing I wasn't worried about was the food. Japanese food had long been a favorite of mine since I discovered "sushi" in college. I fell in love with miso soup, bought rolls upon rolls of takeaway sushi from the supermarket, and had even bought a 6-pack or two of Top Ramen noodles. I knew what I was getting myself into. Right? Wrong. That Top Ramen cup-of-soup doesn't hold a candle, nay, even a spark, to real ramen soup.
When you go to the supermarket to buy fresh fish for sashimi, sushi, or makizushi, they are heavily discounted if you arrive to the market after about 5 or 6pm. The Japanese are serious about the freshness of their fish. And my favorite, had-to-have-it-in-my-house-or-else-I-would-have-a-panic-attack treat was daifuku, which is a type of Japanese sweet that is made out of pounded glutinous rice and stuffed with sweet red bean paste. Yeah, I know. I used to make that face, too. But it is so delicious! So soft, like a chubby baby's cheek, and chewy, with just a hint of sweetness. I would always have one with 2 or 3 cups of my green tea in order to cut through the grassy bitterness of the tea (and I figured that the health benefits of the green tea would cut through the not-so-healthiness of the daifuku)
Lucky for me, I lived in a suburban neighborhood surrounded by houses with tiny yards and lots of trees. We arrived to Japan in October, right as persimmon (or kaki) season came into full effect. These sweet, juicy treasures would just fall onto the ground, ripe and ready for my greedy little hands to pluck up and stick inside of my purse. If they were still a bit hard, I would set them in this bowl on my counter and wait...patiently, oh so patiently...for them to ripen (you could tell when they're ready because they start to feel like a tomato that is going to rot). The texture on the inside is so sweet and almost sticky, like jam. I can also say that some of the best apples I've ever had I had in Nagano, Japan. And the satsuma mandarins (the mikan) in Japan are incredible. At our Christmas party that we hosted in our house, I saw more kids eating mikan than any of the cookies and candy I had set out for them.
One thing I did find lacking in Japanese supermarkets is the availability of good bread and cheese. Admittedly, there is a growing bread culture, evidenced by the sheer amount of french-style bakeries throughout Tokyo, but if you are just at your local supermarket, you are confronted with shelf-upon-shelf of white, really sweet, fluffy bread. And, get this - if you are in the mood for a tuna fish sandwich and you need to buy sandwich bread, you could buy a pack of 6 slices for about 2 dollars. !!! I find the Japanese culture surrounding bread to be fascinating. Wheat isn't as easy to grow as rice, so it has never been supported agriculturally. It wasn't until Portuguese missionaries and ships came to Japan in the 17th century that bread started to gain in popularity. Actually, the Japanese word for bread is pan (パン), bread which comes from the Portuguese "pao". Since then, the Japanese have made their mark on bread, coming up with anpan, a slightly sweet bread stuffed with azuki beans (anko); melon-pan, a puffy, slightly sweet bread; kare-pan, a bread stuffed with curry; and yakisoba-pan, a bun similar to a hot dog bun stuffed with yakisoba noodles.*
Although all of these breads are delicious, some days I just craved a nice loaf of whole wheat bread that wouldn't cost me an arm and a leg. Therefore, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Without an oven (many Japanese homes have historically lacked one), I turned to my trusty rice cooker. I found a "cook anything in your rice cooker" site online and tried to make a very simple bread. This is what it looked like when it was done:
Although all of these breads are delicious, some days I just craved a nice loaf of whole wheat bread that wouldn't cost me an arm and a leg. Therefore, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Without an oven (many Japanese homes have historically lacked one), I turned to my trusty rice cooker. I found a "cook anything in your rice cooker" site online and tried to make a very simple bread. This is what it looked like when it was done:
Yeah. It tasted as good as it looked :|
*http://www.panstory.jp/index.htm
One of the coolest things I ever tried in Japan was inari-zushi, which is basically food stuffed into a fried tofu skin pouch. It sounds weird, but it's delicious. The fried tofu skin pouch (called aburaage) is soaked in a sweetish soy sauce then drained and stuffed with rice or other fillings. My best friend and traveling partner, Sherrie, and I went to a restaurant called Inaricious that focused mostly on serving inari-zushi. This is the beautiful plate that was set before me when I ordered their inari mix.
*http://www.panstory.jp/index.htm
One of the coolest things I ever tried in Japan was inari-zushi, which is basically food stuffed into a fried tofu skin pouch. It sounds weird, but it's delicious. The fried tofu skin pouch (called aburaage) is soaked in a sweetish soy sauce then drained and stuffed with rice or other fillings. My best friend and traveling partner, Sherrie, and I went to a restaurant called Inaricious that focused mostly on serving inari-zushi. This is the beautiful plate that was set before me when I ordered their inari mix.
It had all of the food elements that I love: it was veggie-based and all of the inari were filled with different rice combinations, giving each bite a sweet-saltiness that I loved.
Finally, another of my favorite Japanese culinary discoveries was okonomiyaki. The word comes from "okonomi," which means "as you like it," and "yaki," which means grilled. Basically, I view it as a pancake made from leftovers. You can throw in veggies, meat, even cheese in addition to the flour and eggs. The one we tried in Kyoto had noodles in it. I think I prefer a more traditional okonomiyaki, especially drizzled with okonomiyaki sauce and topped with katsuoboshi (bonito) flakes. Definitely some Japanese soul food (along with Golden Curry, another one of my favorites!)
Finally, another of my favorite Japanese culinary discoveries was okonomiyaki. The word comes from "okonomi," which means "as you like it," and "yaki," which means grilled. Basically, I view it as a pancake made from leftovers. You can throw in veggies, meat, even cheese in addition to the flour and eggs. The one we tried in Kyoto had noodles in it. I think I prefer a more traditional okonomiyaki, especially drizzled with okonomiyaki sauce and topped with katsuoboshi (bonito) flakes. Definitely some Japanese soul food (along with Golden Curry, another one of my favorites!)