week 37 Everyday Harumi

When the Ewing and I were both penniless library workers and travelled to Japan, I was preparing myself for it to be so ruinously expensive that we would have to subsist on packet noodles; strange flavoured maize snacks from 7 Eleven; and odd drinks, randomly chosen from glowing vending machines down dark alleyways.

As it turned out you could spend your monthly salary on sushi in the basement of a subway station, or buy fifty quid melons - displayed in perspex boxes, nestled in silver tissue paper - but the vast majority of meals were as cheap as at home, and often cheaper. While the huge range of places to eat - from tiny stand up counters to cavernous food halls - blew our tiny minds.

One of my favourite nights, which also turned out to be one of the most expensive, was the night we spend in Omoide Yokocho (which translates as the romantic-sounding Memory Alley, AKA Piss Alley, from the post-war days when shady characters would congregate here). A Tokyo landmark by Shinjuku Station, it features a warren of smoke-filled lanes filled with izakaya; small bars where people drink cold beer accompanied by various skewers grilled over charcoal.

These tiny little, salty, smoky nibbles soon racked up into a sizeable bill (no doubt aided by the beverages). So I reasoned, how hard could it be to create my own at home? Luckily I had my trusty ex-library copy of Everyday Harumi; written by celebrated homemaker TV personality Harumi Kurihara, who has been described as Japan's answer to Martha Stewart. Although I see her more as a Delia, minus the striped Canaries scarf.

Anyway, onto the skewers. I decided to make the ever-dependable yakitori - chicken thigh and Japanese leek, or spring onion, glazed with a tare of teriyaki sauce. And the less-known but equally great tsukune - meatballs, in this case beef and pork, which are also glazed with a teriyaki sauce. 

After all chopping, soaking, threading and grilling (sadly in my top oven in the absence of charcoal). Not to mention the sauce, which demanded the reduction of a whole bottle of soy and a whole bottle of mirin  - although it did make plenty of leftovers which I have used to anoint all sorts of other things, and even just to eat with teaspoon when slightly drunk - so I can now understand why they aren't the cheapest way to eat. However, the splinters were all worth it.

Tsukune (adapted from Harumi Cooks)

1 small onion peeled and finely diced

1 stalk celery, finely diced

300g mince - beef or pork (I used a mixture), but chicken works well, too

1 medium egg

1 tbs plain flour

5-6 fresh basil leaves (optional)

Sunflower or vegetable oil-for frying

Shichimi togarashi or chili pepper

Lemon wedges to serve 

Teriayaki sauce

250ml soy sauce

250ml mirin

4 tbsp caster sugar

To make the teriyaki sauce: combine the soy sauce, mirin, and sugar in a pan and slowly bring to a boil. Turn the heat down low and simmer for about 20 minutes, until it has thickened. Skim the surface if necessary and set aside.

Preheat the grill/barbecue.

To make the tsukune; put all the ingredients, except the basil, into a bowl and knead to combine well. Shred the basil, if using, and add to the mixture. It is important to add the basil at the last minute so it keeps its colour

Shape the mixture into rounds about 5 inches in diameter, and flatten slightly. Thread on to small skewers, two or three per skewer.

Grill until cooked through, turning halfway and brushing with a little teriyaki sauce.

Glaze with more sauce and sprinkle with shichimi togarashi/chili pepper flakes.

Serve with lemon wedges on the side.

Week 22 - Polpo

This week's #cookbookchallenge is from a much-loved classic; Polpo. A cookbook gifted to me by Stealth that features Venetian inspired recipes from the London-based restaurant chain that, as I sit writing this, I realise I still haven't actually ever visited. Although Spuntino (RIP), where I remember spending a perfect afternoon with Stealth and several negronis, was a favourite.  

In fact, it's such a firm favourite that it turns out I have already written about it on this very blog, way back in 2013. Which feels like a lifetime ago now (in fact, despite priding myself on my elephant-like memory, I did actually have to search back to check and it seems I made a fennel and chickpea soup I have absolutely no recollection of). I also particularly liked the picture of a negroni, in the snow on my front lawn.

One dish that I really wanted to try was the fritto misto. Squid rings, whitebait and shell on prawns, dusted in flour and dipped into a mixture of egg whites and sparkling water before being deep fried in vegetable oil and served with a spritz of fresh lemon. What could go wrong?

Well, pretty much everything. But I did manage to cobble together all the ingredients (more difficult than it may sound in the midst of a pandemic) and cook it - along with some sticks of courgette, which also feature on the Polpo menu as a popular side order - and get everything in and out of a boiling cauldron of oil without any serious burns occurring. I think it was almost worth it as I ate the fruits of my labour in the garden, along with a chilled vino blanco.

There were also some simpler options, aided and abetted by top class ingredients from The Italian Shop in Maidenhead, which is an Aladdin's cave of wonderfulness, and has helped keep me sane on essential shopping trips to buy pasta and fruit and veg (and cannolis).

First a bruschetta (on homemade sourdough) with stracchino cheese - a fresh cheese made of cow's milk that was a first for me. Slightly chewy, I'd liken it to a cheese spread on steroids. Which is a pretty great thing. The recipe paired it with fennel salami and fresh figs, and it was the perfect mix of salty, creamy, crunchy and sweet.

I also dusted the mandolin off and (carefully) cut radishes and fennel into wafer thin slices, which I then draped over a pile of fresh Sicilian ricotta, topped with chopped fresh mint leaves. The ricotta was transcendental; like eating a tangy cloud of loveliness, set off with the fresh bite from the veg. 

Of course, I couldn't neglect the classic Polpo meatballs and tomato sauce. If you came to visit Chez Famy circa 2013, there was a pretty high chance you were going to get a bowl of this. In fact, there's a pretty high chance you still might.

I still make the sauce (which is still my favourite) in exactly the same way with three tins of tomatoes (occasionally, I also throw in a few fresh ones, if it's the right time of year and I've got them to hand), an onion, a couple of cloves of garlic, a glug of olive oil, a pinch of sugar and a pinch of chilli flakes. Salt and black pepper to taste. after it's finished cooking, I add fresh oregano from the garden and whizz with the stick blender until it resembles a certain well known brand of tinned tomato soup. 

I'm still not sure why something so simple is so quite so good; but it is. At Polpo they serve a plate of the meatballs with the sauce and a toothpick and let you get on with it, but I prefer to make mine slightly smaller than the recipe and serve with spaghetti and fresh flat leaf parsley, which is growing in abundance on my patio at the moment. There aren't many dishes I make more than once, but this has remained a firm favourite. Stay tuned for the 2027 update, to see if it's still on the menu.