nikujaga: eat like an admiral.

there is a special place in my heart for what i call “errant foods.”

i find that when a food manages to make its way across national borders (and sometimes oceans) to establish itself in a new locale, is worth giving a try once or twice at the very least.

i firmly believe that there should be a division of anthropology devoted to the study of errant food.  errant food never develops in a vacuum; it is the result of cultural interaction, which means the resulting recipes can be used as a sort of historic landmark for when, where, and how culinary traditions from different cultures collided.

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sesame-covered tebasaki: just winging it.

as babies, most of us regularly ate and bathed in our food at the same time.  and even though we are all adults (some more than others), i think a small morsel of that glorious messy-eater mentality remains in each and every one of us, regardless of how cultured, well-preened, and properly educated we may be.  somewhere deep inside, we all have a soft spot for getting really super messy at meal time.

it follows, therefore, that there are very few people in this world who don’t enjoy a good chicken wing.

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poor man prepped a plate of pan-fried piiman.

when my japanese elementary schoolers list off the foods they detest, there are three which top the list without fail.  eggplant and mushrooms are neck and neck at number two, but so far, the undisputed winner is piiman.  the following is a brief list of reactions i have observed at the mere mention of the word piiman:

  1. vigorous shaking of the head
  2. two thumbs down
  3. face-palm
  4. face expression reminiscent of edvard munch’s “the scream”
  5. ten solid seconds of fake barfing noises

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curried pork belly: swined and dined.

humor me for a second here.

imagine, if you will, a pork belly.

now imagine not rubbing it generously with pink curing salt and/or nitrates.  imagine not curing or smoking it.  imagine not using it to make bacon or any bacon-esque food (e.g. pancetta, proscuitto, speck, canadian bacon, etc).

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chikuzen-ni: easy, peasy, japanesey.

this post is going to start with a little bit of unadulterated praise.

most chefs who prepare washoku in a restaurant setting have a truly incredible attention to detail, which can encompass everything from the taste of their dish to the geometry of their plating.  as is the case with a lot of facets of life in japan, there seems to be a tried and true method behind most japanese recipes.  some of these methods are easily explained and demonstrated, while others seem, for lack of a better word, almost magical.

i often find myself in childlike awe when watching a few of my japanese friends cook their specialty dishes.  watching pros prepare foods like slow-simmered fish heads, deep sea angler hot pot, or dozen-egg rolled omelettes is mind-blowing.  of course the end product tastes great.  but the freshness and simplicity of the ingredients they use necessitates a borderline superhuman culinary sense.  a culinary sense which can only be acquired through (what i assume to be) trial and error.

that being said, i am not japanese.  i have the attention to detail required to cook complex japanese food, and on occasion i even use it.  but i like to cook on the fly.  i’m not much one for patient measuring, complex kitchen tools, or difficult techinques.  i have a very deliberate personal style when it comes to cooking.

sometimes, that style involves getting drunk, nearly cutting off my fingers, forgetting that the stove is on, and starting a fire in my kitchen.

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pasta con broccoli: the end justifies the greens.

as the greatest song writer, performer, poet, actor, philosopher, and sage of my childhood once said, “it’s not easy being green.”

although kermit the frog was of course referring to himself and the hard road he followed to the tippy-top of muppet stardom, the old adage rings true in a variety of other walks of life.  frogs aren’t the only delectable morsels who get a bad wrap for their color.

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chicken cutlet sandwich: a cut above the rest.

some sandwich traditions are time-honored.  they whether the ages, beat the odds, and become immortalized in the proverbial sandwich hall of fame.  they become so famous we can no longer imagine a world without them.  everybody knows their names by heart.  names like blt,  reuben, hot ham and cheese, and club sandwich.

but this post isn’t about their stories.  this post is about the other guys.  the underdogs.  this post is about one of the sandwiches which is still fighting the good fight, climbing the ladder to infinite fame and eternal sandwich recognition.  this post is about a sandwich which has faced countless obstacles and still kept on keeping on.

this is the sad sad story of the chicken cutlet.

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