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Seasonal Pleasures at Table
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 daikon radishes and the myriad dishes made from them. This issue of the Seasonal Japanese Kitchen page is devoted to WAKAME (Undaria pinnatifida), a nutritious, briny-sweet aquatic plant that enlivens springtime menus.
WAKAME from ancient times
Sea vegetables have been harvested for food and medicine for thousands of years; early records show the Chinese used aquatic plants for medicinal purposes as early as 3,000 B.C. Wakame has long been an important source of high-quality protein, lipids, minerals (such as calcium), and vitamins A, B1, B2 and C in many Asian food cultures.
References to wild-harvest wakame, served as a delicacy to nobility in Japan, can be found in the Manyoshu, an 8th century anthology of poetry. Consumption by ordinary folk in Japan seems to have begun in the 17th century when cultivation methods made wakame more readily available and affordable.
WAKAME harvested in various locations, processed in various ways
Two areas of Japan produce most of the commercially consumed wakame today: the swirling, whirlpool currents in and around Naruto in Tokushima Prefecture, and the craggy shoreline of the Sanriku district, primarily along the Pacific coast of Iwate and Miyagi Prefectures.
The fronds of Naruto wakame are thin and tender, requiring little or no cooking making them particularly suitable for salads or to float as a garnish in soups. Sanriku wakame is meatier with a pleasant sweetness, perfect for simmering, braising, or stewing with other foods.
Wakame is a brown algae; its familiar jade-green color is the result of brief blanching after the fronds are harvested and rinsed.
Salting and sun-drying dehydrates the wakame, concentrating minerals and flavor, while extending shelf life. Some Naruto wakame is sprinkled with fern or rice straw ash, then washed with water and dried again. This method, called hai wakame, is thought to have begun in the mid-19th century and has proved an effective preservation technique.
WAKAME served in various dishes
Different parts of the wakame plant are used in different ways. The fronds (ha or "leaves"), rib (kuki ), and ruffled, bulbous base (mekabu ) are all edible. Each is enjoyed for its own distinctive flavor and texture.
The fronds, used in salads and soups, are usually cut into bite-sized lengths or coarsely chopped.
A delicacy in Japan where its slippery-yet-crunchy texture is prized, mekabu is shredded and used in salad-like sunomono or as a topping on noodles such as these Morioka reimen (not all versions are this cute, but I couldn't resist this kitchy image!).
My First Encounter with Wakame
My first and utterly memorable taste of newly harvested wakame was prepared by Kiyoko Andoh, the woman who several years later would become my mother-in-law. One of her springtime favorites was a dish of soy-simmered bamboo shoots paired with tender fronds of wakame. When making this dish for herself she used stock that had been slowly steeped from just a thick, slate-colored, glutamate-rich kelp called ma kombu. When serving others her usual vegetarian broth was infused with rich, smoky katsuo-bushi (bonito) flakes.
She would fill a small bowl for herself, and a deep bowl for the family, garnishing both with peppery sprigs of kinome that she had plucked just moments before from a sansho bush near the house.
Every spring as I make this dish of earthy sweet bamboo and briny-sweet wakame, I fondly recall my first encounter with seasonal pleasures at table.
In the 1970's, when I was raising my daughter in Tokyo, childcare programs for toddlers of working mothers included lunch and snacks prepared by the hoikuen (nursery school) kitchen staff. The policy was to insist that every child eat every food regardless of his or her personal preferences. Providing full nutrition was part of the curriculum, as was the teaching of table manners that included a "no waste" rule.
Rather than engage in pitched battle over detested items, the institutional approach was culinary sleight-of-hand, hiding the problem food in some clever way, thereby getting the child to eat what he or she might otherwise leave behind.
At the time, Rena hated carrots, leek-like negi, and cabbage, yet according to her hoikuen teacher, she ate these foods joyfully (without knowing, of course) when they were hidden in gyoza. When I was given their recipe, I realized that the dumplings served at her nursery school also included a visibly large amount of wakame, a nutritious sea vegetable that she adored! I feel certain you will like these dumplings as much as she did.
A recipe for Wafu Gyoza, Pork and Wakame Dumplings adapted from WASHOKU: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen, Ten Speed Press 2005 (© 2005 All rights reserved by Elizabeth Andoh)
Makes 20 to 24 dumplings
filling:
- 2-inch piece leek, about 1/2 ounce, chopped
- 1 large leaf of cabbage, including thick stem portion, about 1/4 ounce, shredded
- 1/4 cup dried wakame bits
- 6 ounces ground pork
- 1 tablespoon grated carrot
- 1 tablespoon sake
- 1 teaspoon dark miso
- 2 teaspoons sesame oil (goma abura)
dipping sauce:
- 2 to 3 tablespoons soy sauce
- 1 to 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
Place the leek, cabbage and wakame in the bowl of a food processor and pulse-process until the mixture is finely minced. The dried wakame will pick up moisture from contact with the other vegetables and begin to soften.
Transfer the vegetable mixture to a deep bowl, and add the pork, sake, miso, and a drop or two of the sesame oil. Knead the mixture with your hands to ensure even distribution. Gather the meat mixture into a ball, lift and throw it back with force into the bowl, repeating this action 4 or 5 times, a bit like baseball practice. This pitching tenderizes the meat, and ensures the mass will hold together. Divide the meat mixture in quarters; then sub-divide each section 5 or 6 times (one small portion will become the filling for a single dumpling). Nearby, have a small dish of cold water ready, and a flat plate on which to line up the stuffed dumplings.
Lay a dumpling wrapper on a dry surface, and place one small portion of meat in the center of it. With fingertips moistened in water, trace a half-circle line near the edge of the wrapper. Fold the wrapper over to enclose the filling, and pinch in the center to seal the edges at that spot. Pleat the closer edge of the wrapper, to the right and left of the center, pressing it to the flat edge of the wrapper at back. Set aside the stuffed dumpling, plump meat-filled side down, pleated wrapper edge standing up. Repeat to make 20 or 24 dumplings in all.
In a skillet large enough to cook all the dumplings at once, heat a teaspoon of sesame oil over medium-high heat. Carefully line up the dumplings, side-by-side, in clusters of 5 or 6 each. Arrange them standing so that the pleats are at top and the plump, meat-filled portion is in contact with the skillet. Cook for 3 minutes, or until nicely browned. Check progress by lifting one or two dumplings by their pleated edge.
Pour in 1/4 cup of water, and when the hissing and splattering die down, drizzle in the remaining sesame oil around the inner edge of the skillet. At the same time, lower the heat to keep the liquid just at a simmer, and immediately place a lid on the skillet to trap in the moisture. This type of cooking is called mushi yaki, or "steam-searing," and ensures that the pork will be thoroughly cooked, yet moist, and succulent.
Check progress after 2 minutes. When the wrappers appear translucent and the meat is firm (check by pressing lightly with a spoon, or gently pinching with chopsticks), remove the lid, and raise the heat slightly. Continue to cook until all the water has evaporated and only the oil remains, about 2 minutes. Once you hear a sizzling sound, shake the skillet. The dumplings should slide about, most likely in clusters. If they seem to stick to the skillet, move the skillet away from the stove, and re-lid it for a moment.
Remove the dumplings, a cluster at a time, with a broad, flat, flexible spatula. Flip the dumplings so that the seared surface faces up. 5 or 6 dumplings make a single serving as an appetizer, though often twice that many will be served as a main course in a family-style meal.
Serve hot, with a dipping sauce made by stirring the soy sauce and rice vinegar together.
For those with copies of my latest cookbook, Washoku: Recipes from the Japanese Home Kitchen (Ten Speed Press, 2005), I have included several classic dishes using wakame. Miso Soup with Onions and Potatoes on page 120 is a satisfying, home-style miso-thickened broth, and the Tosa Sea Salad on page 216 is a refreshingly tart su no mono salad.