In Japan, the choice of what to serve for a meal, and how to present it, is intimately linked to nature and embellished by cultural nuance. Each month in the kitchen, and at table, has a distinct seasonal identity, complete with its own legends and festivals, and the motifs and color schemes associated with them.

Trying to decipher Japan's culinary code can be challenging. I know that when I first came to Japan I struggled to grasp the meaning of what everyone around me thought was obvious. To enable others who have not been brought up with Japanese traditions to better understand and appreciate indigenous culinary references to each season, I have been posting essays every few months to the SEASONAL JAPANESE KITCHEN page at this website. Topics in the past have ranged from wildly expensive melons (and mid-year gift-giving practices) to symbolism at the New Year dinner table. The previous installment focused on autumnal moon-viewing and to aki no mikaku (autumnal eating pleasures), in particular, mushrooms. This issue of the Seasonal Japanese Kitchen page is devoted to daikon radishes and the myriad dishes made from them.

大根 A Big, Important Root

Written with the character

大

根

Here in Tokyo, and indeed throughout most of Japan, an easy-to-grow-and-store, cylindrical, all-purpose variety of daikon called aokubi (green-necked) has pretty much taken over the marketplace.

Every once in a while, a less than perfectly formed aokubi can be seen at natural food shops, typical split into stumpy "legs" or "toes."

Although aokubi radishes can be prepared both cooked and raw, they tend to be bland and often a bit woody.

[back to top]

Other varieties such as slender Nerima, karami, Shogoin or Sakurajima, each have distinctive characteristics making them more suitable for preparing some dishes than for others.

Long, slender Nerima daikon taste fine when shredded in salads, but most of the crop is air-dried then made into golden yellow takuan pickles by submerging them in nuka (rice bran) paste for several months.

Before serving, the pickling paste is quickly rinsed away and the radish blotted dry and sliced. The resulting pickled istakuan, named after Takuan Osho, a 17th century monk who perfected this pickling process.

Karami daikon is best grated, with or without a drizzle of soy sauce, and gives quite a kick to whatever food it is eaten with – often cold soba or udon noodles. Here daikon is being grated on an oni oroshi ("monster" grater) to create crunchy, spicy, shards.

For those with copies of my latest cookbook, Washoku: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen (Ten Speed Press, 2005), my recipe for an udon salad similar to this one can be found on page 173.

If you will be grating daikon, remember to do so just before eating in order to preserve the rich amount of vitamin C that it naturally contains. Globe-shaped Shogoin daikon is wonderful thinly sliced in salads or cut in wedges and braised.

A nearly 65-pound, Sakurajima daikon is listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the largest radish in the world. It certainly would make a lot of pickles!

[back to top]

My personal favorite

My personal favorite, though, is Miura daikon, yet another regional variety. Grown primarily on the Miura Peninsula southwest of Tokyo, it is sweet-and-spicy and crisp-and-juicy when sliced julienne (though it can get a bit watery when grated). It is perfect for making the New Year's Salad on page 220 of Washoku: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen (Ten Speed Press, 2005).

Miura is especially flavorful when steamed and sauced with pungent miso, a dish called furofuki daikon. My version in Washoku: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen (Ten Speed Press, 2005) can be found on page 214, swathed in a citrus-infused light miso sauce.

Even the peels of Miura daikon are tasty, especially when stir-fried, spicy kimpira-style.

Combining the Bounty of the Land with the Bounty of the Sea

Classic Japanese kitchen wisdom urges all those who plan menus to be mindful of the terrain from which various foods are taken. A surf-and-turf approach that combines the bounty of the land with that of the sea is quite common. In fact, two wintertime favorites enjoyed throughout Japan match slow-simmered daikon with fish.

Buri Daikon pairs rich, full-flavored buri (yellowtail, a species in the tuna family) with chunks of amber-colored, soy-stewed daikon radish.

Oden, a hardy assortment of fish sausages, fried tofu, tubers and root vegetables always includes meltingly tender, pale golden wheels of daikon radish.

[back to top]

Other Ways to Enjoy Daikon

Daikon are shredded and sun-dried to make kiriboshi daikon, an inexpensive pantry item that frugal washoku households depend upon to stretch the food budget, and expand menus. In its simplest form, ribbons of dried radish are simmered with strips of fried tofu; adding slivers of orange carrot and barely blanched green beans make colorful additions. For those with copies of my latest cookbook, Washoku: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen (Ten Speed Press, 2005), the recipe for Soy-Braised Sun-Dried Radish Ribbons is on page 186

All varieties of daikon have tasty, nutritious leaves, bursting with vitamin A and calcium. To extend post-harvest quality of both the roots and tufts of leaves, slice off the verdant tops just below where they had been connected to the radish's firm, bulbous,bottom. Wrap both the leaves and the root in damp paper towels, then in newspaper. Keep at very cool room temperature, or refrigerate.

A recipe: 大根と厚揚げの鼈甲煮

One of my favorite ways of enjoying daikon leaves is to braise them with chunks of radish and blocks of abura age (fried tofu). The name of this dish, bekko ni, literally "tortoise shell," aptly describes the rich, amber color the radish acquires as it is soy-stewed.

A recipe for DAIKON to ATSU AGE no BEKKO NI (© 2006 All rights reserved by Elizabeth Andoh) Soy-Braised Radish and Fried Tofu

SERVES 4.

• 5 or 6 stalks dark green radish tops, or other stiff dark greens such as kale
• 1 block atsu age (thick fried tofu), cut in half lengthwise, then across 3 times to yield 8 large chunks
• 4 circles of daikon radish, each about 2 inches in diameter and 3/4 inches thick
• scant 1/4 teaspoon cornstarch
• 1/4 teaspoon goma abura (aromatic sesame oil)
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 2 tablespoons sake (rice wine)
• 2 cups Basic Sea Stock (dashi, see recipe below)
• 3 tablespoons soy sauce
• 1 or 2 scallions, trimmed and finely chopped

Rinse the radish tops to remove any soil that might be clinging to the tuft. If using kale, line up leaves with tougher stems together and tie with kitchen twine.

Bring a small pot of water to a rolling boil and blanch the radish tops for less than a minute until they turn bright green. Then place entire bunch of tops in the boiling water and cook for 20 or 30 seconds after the water returns to a boil. If using kale, place the bunch of leaves with their tough stems in the boiling water first, holding them submerged until the water returns to a boil. Hold the greens until you feel them begin to wilt. Remove the blanched radish tops or kale to a bowl of cold water; when cool enough to handle comfortably, squeeze out excess moisture. Slice off the bottom part of the radish tops or remove the string holding the kale leaves as a bunch. Cut the blanched greens into quarter-inch lengths and set aside.

In the same hot water and pot in which you blanched the greens, blanch the blocks of atsu age to remove excess oil. Place the fried tofu in the pot, over high heat return the water to a boil, and cook the fried tofu for 20 or 30 seconds or until you can see swirls of oil form on the surface. Use a slotted spoon or fine-meshed skimmer to remove the fried tofu from the pot to a paper towel-lined dish (DO NOT refresh with cold water).

Using a pastry brush, lightly dust the flat surfaces of the daikon radish with the cornstarch. This is to blot up excess moisture and ensure a richly colored seared surface. It will also help the final sauce to cling and glaze the radish and fried tofu.

Heat a non-stick skillet that is just large enough to hold the 4 circles of daikon radish in a single, snug layer. Drizzle in the sesame oil. Over high heat, sear the radish pieces until aromatic and slightly colored. Flip and repeat on the other side.

Sprinkle in the sugar, add the sake, and half the sea stock. Swirl the skillet gently to mix and lower the heat. Simmer for about 7 or 8 minutes or until the daikon is fairly tender; a toothpick should meet with little resistance. It is best to use an otoshi-buta (dropped lid) when simmering.

If you do not have one, improvise with cooking parchment and another lid, smaller in size.

Flip the daikon slices over, add the remaining sea stock and continue to cook with a dropped lid until tender (no resistance), about 6 or 7 more minutes.

Drizzle in the soy sauce, swirl the skillet to mix well, re-lid and cook for 2 minutes. Push the daikon to one side of the skillet to make room for the fried tofu. Heat through, turning the pieces to color and flavor evenly. Add the blanched, chopped greens to the remaining braising liquid. Turn up the heat, stirring to avoke scorching, to reduce any remaining pan juices to a thin glaze. Serve hot, or at room temperature allowing the daikon and fried tofu to cool in the skillet with the dropped lid in place. It is during this cooling down period that flavors meld, making for a better balance of savory and sweet. Add the scallions just before serving.

[back to top]

DASHI, a basic sea stock

Adapted from WASHOKU: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen by Elizabeth Andoh © Copyright 2005

Dashi is a subtle broth with the capacity to enhance and intensify the flavor of those foods with which it is cooked or blended. That ability is locked within kombu (kelp) and katsuo bushi (smoky bonito fish flakes), the two ingredients used to make this basic sea stock: Both are both rich in water-soluble glutamates.

Although it takes only a few minutes to make dashi, timing and temperature control is important. To extract the full potential of the kelp's flavor-enhancing properties, you need to start the stock from cold water, slowly bringing it barely to a boil – the point at which small bubbles begin to break on the surface, and around the rim of your pot. Then, to prevent the broth from becoming murky, and to hold possible bitterness at bay, you need to remove your pot from the stove before adding the fish flakes. That way, the smoky, full-bodied flavor of the flakes can seep into the broth.

Makes about 1 quart.

• 1 generous quart cold water; use filtered or bottled water for best results
• 15 to 20 square inches kombu (kelp; Hidaka kombu is the preferred type)
• 2, 5-gram packets or 1/2 cup loosely packed katsuo bushi (dried bonito flakes)

  Place the kelp in a pot with the water. If time permits, let it soak for 10 to 15 minutes before placing the pot over medium-high heat. Remove the pot from the burner as soon as small bubbles begin to break on the surface and at the rim of the pot. Add the fish flakes, scattering them across the surface of the broth. After several minutes the fish flakes will begin to sink. The larger the flakes, the longer it will take. Those at the top of a freshly opened bag might take 5 or 6 minutes, while the powdery bits that settle at the bottom of the package could sink almost immediately. To keep the stock from tasting "fishy" it is best to strain the broth through a cloth or paper-lined colander within 3 or 4 minutes of adding the flakes.

  Dashi looses its delicate aroma and subtle flavors when frozen, so its best to make it fresh when you need it. Any unused dashi will keep well for 3 to 4 days in the refrigerator. Depending on the type, and quality of kombu used, a sediment sometimes forms at the bottom of the container – it alone, is not cause for concern. Signs of spoilage include a sweet, rather than smoky, smell, a film forming on the surface or around the edges of your container, or stickiness when pouring.

  [back to top]

  ---