Happy New Year: Oshogatsu at JANM

Between the sigh of relief that is Boxing Day and the last burst of merriment at the Feast of the Epiphany, it seems as if the holidays never end. Although in Japan the New Year is observed on January 1, the celebration extends through the 6th with flurry of festivities known as Oshogatsu.

Mochitsuki wins my vote for "Best Food Preparation Method for Venting Frustration." Members of Kodama Taiko turn from pounding drums to pounding mochi.

At the Japanese American National Museum, New Year traditions such as the mochitsuki (traditional rice cake pounding ceremony) demonstration and a performance by Kodama Taiko were presented on Jan. 8 to celebrate the Year of the Dragon. In addition, an onigiri-making contest was held, judged by foodies Russ Parsons, editor of the LA Times Food section; Lynn Chen, blogger, The Actor's Diet and Keiko Nakashima, owner of Sunny Blue, the only shop in Southern California that serves freshly made omusubi.

A sandwich is a sandwich, but an omusubi is a meal: freshly made rice balls are a light but satisfying snack on Santa Monica's Main Street.

Keiko opened her shop in the summer of 2010 to immediate and resounding approval from both locals and tourists, many of whom had no idea what omusubi was. Sunny Blue's rice balls are made of rice wrapped in sheets of nori. The menu features traditional omusubi fillings such as salty fish, Japanese pickles and vegetables like hijiki, kombu, and shisho. There are also contemporary twists on Japanese home cooking, such as everyone's hands-down favorite, Miso Beef, which is made with caramelized onions and homemade miso sauce.

Keiko and her staff make Sunny Blue's omusubi fresh-to-order for fast food with a healthy, homemade taste.

Most of us know omusubi as those frigid rice balls filled with spicy tuna or ume (pickled plum) in the deli section at Marukai or the Spam-filled morsels that have graced many a Japanese American potluck. Keiko and her staff make their omusubi fresh to order; many of the fillings are comfortingly warm, as is the rice that is used. A couple of omusubi with side dishes such as tsukemono or edamame is a light meal or very satisfying snack, a welcome addition to the lackluster cuisine typical of Main Street.

I've just seen a face - and it was made out of rice. Entries for the onigiri-making contest at JANM's Oshogatsu.

Fast forward to Keiko's duties as a judge at the JANM Oshogatsu. The entries to the onigiri contest were a bit atypical, even for the incredibly creative founder of Sunny Blue. Kids of all ages created their onigiri with rice and nori, but that was where tradition ended. They were also provided with dried fruits, olives, herbs, orange peels, and mixed nuts, which they used to make a variety of faces and animals.

Keiko surveys the non-traditional entries to the onigiri contest, which showed a lot of imagination. I wonder if she discovered any new recipes for Sunny Blue!

Another "hands-on" exhibit at Oshogatsu was the amezaiku demonstration by Shan Ichiyanagi. The Los Angeles-based artist has been creating these traditional sugar sculptures for nearly 40 years. At JANM that day, he and nephew Taka Ichiyanagi gave a demonstration of the centuries- old confectionery art, to the delight of onlookers from 9 to 90.

Taka Ichiyanagi creates a sugar sculpture to celebrate the Year of the Dragon.

Shan Ichiyanagi recalled seeing street artists making amezaiku when he was growing up in Sapporo. After meeting Masaji Terasawa while both were attending an English class at Reseda Adult School in 1971, Ichiyanagi asked the renowned artist if he would teach him how to create amezaiku. After shadowing the master as he worked his magic at Disneyland, Ichiyanagi would then practice his own demonstrations on neighborhood kids, who benefited from the beautiful and tasty results.

Ichiyanagi and his nephew Taka, who has been making amezaiku for ten years, are now sought-after performers at not only Japanese cultural events, but at bar and bat mitzvahs across the country. A photo album lying on a table at their JANM appearance was full of celebrities enjoying the sweet life with the Ichiyanagis and their gorgeous creations. But the theatrical aspects of sculpting fantastic creations out of molten sugar syrup belie a simple truth.

“People like candy in general," said Ichiyanagi, "and I create something out of that."

Amezaiku master Shan Ichiyanagi shows off the dragon that Taka created on-the-spot, ushering in a sweet 2012 for all.

2011: The Last Piece of Pie

While talking to Karen last night about the impending changes that come with a new year, namely the much-anticipated shift of consciousness in 2012, I couldn't help but think of the things I hope will endure. One of these things has to be my tried-and-true recipe for quiche. Although it began as a formula for the traditional Lorraine, with time and dietary requirements, the dish evolved into a way for me to embrace the differences among my friends and their palates. I happened to be making up a batch of the savory pie as she and I chatted: one smoked salmon and a ham and cheese for Seiji and Kenzo.

This quiche "shreds": Cheddar and Swiss is my go-to combo, but feel free to experiment.

I wrote this snapshot of a much-loved recipe in 2007 after nearly three decades of making it for numerous gatherings, to impress boys (especially my nephews!), and even to enter it in a pie contest. The joy of my quiche, which has been adapted to suit every taste and dietary restriction, is as much in the process of making it as in the experience of eating it. I have yet to find the best title for this piece, and am open to suggestions - as I am open to requests for yet another new ingredient to add to the pie.

You can please everybody all the time with two flavors per batch. "Grown-up" smoked salmon and spinach parties with "kids' special" ham and cheese. Guess which one the grown-ups will sneak pieces of...

Quiche Story Redux

Go to Trader Joe’s and get one block of sharp cheddar and one block of Swiss; each piece should be about the size of a Betamax tape. Also, get a dozen eggs, a pint of cream, a medium-sized piece of smoked salmon, fresh dill, a bag of spinach and some green onions.

Go to Ralphs and buy two frozen deep dish pie shells. The original recipe was for one quiche, but since Phil broke the dish with the recipe painted on it, you couldn’t remember how many eggs it took, and somehow over time, it evolved into a dozen. Hence the two pie shells. It’s just as well. One would never be enough anyway, and since Shiho and Joselyn are lacto-ovo-pisces vegetarians, they can eat the one with salmon. It’s funny how they don’t think fish is meat. It still has a face, but no legs. Maybe that’s the difference.

The quiche always makes a dramatic entrance from the oven, so don’t start it when you get home so that it comes out just as guests arrive. Besides, you have to pull dishes out, vacuum, dust, and find something to wear. Putter needlessly at these tasks until a couple of hours before everyone arrives.

Thaw a package of six pieces of bacon in the microwave and cook it. Costco has two pounds of thick cut bacon from Canada for $10. It’s a deal, and incidentally, the best bacon I’ve ever had. It’s not Canadian bacon, which is almost like ham, but bacon from Canada. It takes about a year for me to finish a two-pound package.

While the bacon cooks, you can start shredding the cheeses into the big stainless steel bowl. There is enough to eat small wads of it with bits of bacon, but don’t overdo it. Wash the spinach, take the stems off and tear it, and chop up the green onions. Set this mixture aside.

The eggs and I: Save up calories for this one; it's a doozy with heavy cream and a dozen scramblers.

Tear the salmon into little pieces. Curse the phone, because it rings as soon as your hands are covered in fish oil. While you are washing them, the machine picks up. It’s Alice, and she’s bringing Vicki with her.

Finish breaking up the salmon, and chop two or three sprigs of dill to go with it. Put the rest of the dill in the refrigerator. In about three weeks, you will take it out again, the herbs shriveled beyond recognition, and throw it away.

The phone rings again. It’s Jolene, who will be late. As soon as people start arriving, we all start guessing how late she will be. It’s a good thing she always stops at the Chinese bakery, probably part of the reason she is so tardy. Nobody can be mad at you if you bring over a box of old-fashioned almond cookies, the kind made with honest-to-God lard.

Keep the edges of the pie crusts from burning by covering them with a thin collar of aluminum foil. Take a fork and prick holes in the bottom and sides of the pie shells. Don’t ask me why, I saw this in a book somewhere. I think it aerates the pastry and helps it cook more evenly. Or it just provides the illusion of homemade pastry that involved more effort than pulling it out of the freezer.

Pile the dry ingredients into each pie shell, alternating the spinach-cheese mixture with bacon for one, salmon and dill for the other. Another vegetarian alternative is actual vegetables, like fingerling potatoes, zucchini and butternut squash that have been roasted in the oven. Who knew they could taste so good?

There are just some ingredients that I just can’t substitute in order to accommodate dietary needs or allergies . Rodney, who is lactose intolerant, just brings his pills along. He isn’t about to give up my quiche because of a little discomfort, and so far, I haven’t found any great substitute for cream and cheese.

Okay, I wasn’t really looking.

Beat the entire dozen eggs into the big white bowl and add the cream. Put in a healthy dash of salt, grind about a two-inch-wide shadow of black pepper and a pinch of nutmeg over it, and stir.

Carefully pour the egg mixture into the pie shells with the big Pyrex cup. This takes a bit of time, because you have to let the liquid drip and settle between all the layers of ingredients. This should use up almost all of the egg mixture, but don’t overfill them as they will drip messily onto the baking sheet, forming clouds of overcooked egg batter.

Put the pie shells on a large cookie sheet and bake for about an hour at 350 degrees. During that hour, you can finish dressing, fuss over the living room, and unwrap the rest of the food. Operation Quiche dominates the entire kitchen, making it impossible to cook anything else for the party. While you are picking up the ingredients, be sure to buy some hummus and pita chips, carrot sticks, prosciutto, cheeses, olives, whatever.

Love's labors luxe: A crisp and nicely browned top means the egg mixture is cooked, but the quiche is still moist and cheesy within. Let it stand for a few minutes before cutting.

After about 40 minutes, check on the quiches. They are done when you poke them with a steak knife and it comes out clean. By this time, hopefully people have started to arrive. Depending on your oven, you may need an extra 10 minutes, 20 tops.

Bask in the glow of compliments from people who’ve had it before, as they always sniff appreciatively at the savory aroma that fills the kitchen. Enjoy their enthusiastic endorsement to newcomers who have yet to discover this delicacy.

You should have enough to serve approximately 12 happy guests, some of them twice. Make sure that the non-vegetarians leave plenty of salmon pie for Shiho and Joselyn.

Epilogue:

Shiho is no longer a vegetarian. And only once did I make a "real" pie crust, it was as easy as the old expression goes. For the LACMA pie contest, everything had to be homemade. So I found a simple recipe for pâte brisée. A dry run is always advised for a new recipe, so a few days before the contest, I gave this a whirl and was really impressed with how simple it was to make such a flavorful crust.

The day before the contest, I made a new batch for the pie contest and refrigerated it overnight per the recipe. But when I unwrapped it the next morning it shattered into a dry crumbly mess, due to the fact that I had not added enough water. With the contest a few hours away and the entry requirement for a freshly baked but cooled pie, I hastily made another batch of pastry and hoped for the best.

The resulting quiches looked good, and I sampled the second one, which was filled with Kenzo's ham and cheese concoction. The crust was acceptable, but I was struck by the simplicity of this "new" recipe.

Kids don't like mushrooms or ground nutmeg. And all cheese is yellow. So I make their quiche by simply piling shredded cheddar cheese and ham or bacon in the pie tin and pouring plain, unseasoned eggs and cream over it before seasoning the remainder for the grown-ups' version.

Kids know what they like and aren't afraid to tell you so. My wish for the new year is that we all can cut to the chase, the way an eight-year-old's palate does. To me, changing consciousness will mean improving old recipes while adapting more readily to new challenges and embracing possibility. Happy New Year!

Babkamania

About this time last year, Jolene brought home a two-pack of Schick's Chocolate Babka from Costco in the Marina. Babka was one of the things that I had previously ignored when at Canter's bakery in favor of more portable treats such as rainbow cookies, rugalach, and cheese pocket danish. But I tried a tentative slice of the rich, yeasty cake and was hooked.

A couple of weeks ago, my tastebuds remembered the flaky, chocolaty goodness and I drove to Costco to pick up another two-pack. Although the store was well-stocked with every Jewish delicacy you could think of - they even had economy-sized jars of gefilte fish and ready-to-bake pans of noodle kugel - they did not carry Schick's babka this year. I picked up the family's favorite challah, which being from Costco, is about the size of a Mini Cooper, and went home feeling deprived.

Glatt Mart, with no less than four cases of hummus and hummus-related products.

So I hit Pico Boulevard, home to a large number of kosher delis, restaurants and markets. But after a satisfying six-block hike, the marvels of Glatt Mart, which is arguably the largest kosher market in the state, and a fabulous bowl of lentil soup at Eilat Bakery, all I could come up with was one ring-shaped babka from Schwartz's Bakery. Yelpers alternately love or hate the place - sadly, most reviews reflected the latter - and after tasting the dry pastry, I could see why. Actually, since I bought the last one on a Sunday night, it may have been sitting there since before Friday's Sabbath, so I'm hoping theirs doesn't start out as dry. The experience only made me more determined to find either a Schick's babka or an acceptable substitute.

It is ironic that on my recent trip to Phoenix to spend Thanksgiving with David, that I would come up with not just one, but three babkas to sample. We made a beeline for Chompie's, the area's go-to deli near Scottsdale. Comparable to Jerry's Deli in L.A., it is a good, clean restaurant with generous portions of reliably tasty deli fare. Their hefty babka loaf is drizzled with chocolate icing and well-marbled within, with a nice, light sweetness and a rich cocoa-y vein. David looked relieved that we had found what I were looking for so quickly, but as usual, I wanted something more "authentic."

Chocolate babka from Chompie's. No fudging on flavor; this is the best in Phoenix.

I spied Imperial Kosher Market & Deli on Glendale Avenue. Buildings in Phoenix are deceptively large due to the exterior walls that make them inhabitable in the desert heat. The tiny store was attached to a comfortable looking restaurant that offers kosher versions of southern fried chicken alongside more traditional fare. I had phoned them a couple of days before and asked if they sold Schick's Babka and they answered unequivocally, "We have Green's. It's the best."

When we visited the store on the Friday after Thanksgiving, we scored the last chocolate babka, which was surrounded by about a half-dozen of Green's cinnamon variety. They felt as squishy moist as the one I chose, but on the babka flavor hierarchy, chocolate reigns supreme.

"Another babka?"... 'Lainie and Jerry contemplate "the lesser babka."

We picked up another the last one on the day-old table from Karsh's Bakery, seduced by the promise of tiny chocolate chips that covered its top, and headed home. Karsh's ring-shaped cake tasted like a Hostess Crumb Cake with a chocolate bar that was melted into the middle of it, but then it hardened, leaving a slab of second-rate chocolate in the middle of the cake. We ate ourselves sick of the chocolate chips that now littered the bag, the plate, and the counter, but pronounced Karsh's a bust. Babka-beleaguered David, who isn't much for sweets to begin with, said that he liked the one from Chompie's the best, and the Karsh's version, "next to last," in the hopes of not having to taste any more babka. He begged me not to unwrap the Green's loaf, so I took it home for the family to try.

Karsh's babka was like me at 30 - pretty but dry-humoured.

This morning, I opened up the Green's babka, which was pronounced delicious and moist by Jolene and Hiro. Despite its Brooklyn origins, it was the freshest, but then again, it is supplied to delis and markets all over the country and its ingredients must ensure a longer shelf life. It has a good, even chocolate flavor, but I prefer the delicate taste of Chompie's version, albeit when it was two days fresher. It is now a dry slab, optimistically stored in a Ziploc container.

The irony of it all was when I walked into Junior's last night for my welcome-home-to-me bowl of sweet and sour cabbage soup. I was greeted at the bakery counter that faces the front door by a cut half of a glistening, chocolate chip-studded babka. I hesitated, knowing that a doughy pile of babka souvenirs awaited me at home, but will have to give that one a try.

Last exit to Brooklyn: Green's babka delivers, excellent for a store-bought specimen.

The takeaway from all this? When I get obsessed with something, it can be pretty brutal for all involved. Friends and family must suffer for my art. With a delicacy as folksy and homespun as babka, freshness is key. Sometimes, the best of everything could be found just down the street. And I'm still looking.

After our babka-fest, even this volcanic core on Interstate 10 looked like the perfect marbled babka. Another hill looked like mounds of chopped liver.