lovesoup cooks

You're a Peach!

I have been known to grumble that life in Tokyo is sometimes lacking in the nuances of the season that the Japanese inaka (countryside) life affords one: this plant blooms from this time to this time, now is the time to hang onions on the line, best send out some mid-summer greetings, ect.-- but who am I kidding? I was over the moon when I saw that my corner grocery store stocked my favorite British tea (one that I had only seen on the shelves in the UK), the cheese section stank like only a Parisian cheese keeper could, the novelty of Peking duck wrappers available everyday, clotted cream, German bread and even mango pickle (for breakfast on toast with an egg--lovely).

The changing of the seasons and the landscapes are just a little bit more subtle. There aren't towering mountains that ridge the city (unless you want to include Mt. Fuji, or wild and free oceans outside the window--but there are waterways. Tokyo is a city of little streams and rivers. Two weeks ago I noticed that I didn't hear any cicada or semi, as they are called, but this week they are in full screech. The cats are happy to see them.

And I can't get away from the PEACHES! These perfumed,  fuzzy pink and blushing fruits have made me bite my tongue and scramble to include them in at least one meal a day. Traded, gifted and sitting sweetly on the kitchen table or in the fridge, they are making me think again about my 'lack of subtle seasonality' that I've labeled Tokyo. There even a bit, natsukashi-invoking (bringing up memories of days past) and there is nothing that I like more than to daydream of different times.

So, I give you, Summer Soba Salad with Peaches.

Ingredients:

Two packets of green tea soba

A peach, cucumber, (green) long beans, red onion, red bell pepper, okra, carrot, green chile, bib lettuce and cabbage for some crunch. 

Herbal salt, vinegar, olive oil, sudachi juice (citrus), soy sauce, olive oil and shiso leaf garnish.

Method:

This dish is all about getting creative with your vegetable cutting. I sliced the cucumber into thick half-moons, sliced the red onion thinly (and set aside to soak in the vinegar), used my vegetable peeler to make thin slivers of carrot, roughly cubed the peach, and sliced the okra and green chile down the center. I tore the lettuce with my fingers and chopped the cabbage thick.

I was really excited about the long green beans (from fingertip to elbow) that are popular in Chinese cooking. I boiled then for about a minute, and set them aside to cool. I then made hubby tie them into knots. The okra and green chile took to a quick saute (about 3 minutes, tops), with a couple of drops of soy sauce. Place this on a separate plate to cool.

Boil your soba and when ready soak in an ice water bath. Incidentally, when your soba water has cooled, you can feed it to your plants, you can also do the same with your green bean water.

Throwing it all together: I put my veggies and peaches on the bottom and then topped it with the sauteed okra and green chile. Next, I made a little indentation and put the soba noodles into a mound, I drizzled some of the red onion vinegar (it turns pink) as well a portion of the onions. Top with a little bit of the onion, the shiso and a flick of soy sauce. I also added a sea salt from Okinawa.

This dish was inspired by my favorite restaurant Usaya (which I call, Rabbit) in my favorite neighboring town, Shimokitazawa. The peaches were a gift from a photographer friend on mine, a gift from her parents in Yamanashi. An outstanding place for peaches, but not as well-marketed as the peaches of Okayama--which got into this branding thing much earlier and can lay claim to being the hometown of  Momotaro-the Peach Boy.

Oh, and one more thing about peaches, they go 'something incredible like' with a touch of balsamic vinegar!

Stay peachy!

Think Pink Drink

We are now about two weeks into what I like to call Tokyo Toaster Oven Season-- baking hot, and with the cicadas buzzing like the timer/dial of a toaster oven.

It's around this time of year that my little vegetable corners around the neighborhood start offering up bundles of the herb, shiso. Shiso is one of the flavors that give Japanese cooking its signature flavor--sort of like what basil is to Italian, or lemongrass and holy basil are to Thai food. You see shiso year round, as it is the green leaf that  garnishes sashimi and in the summer is shredded and topped on cold soba noodles; alongside the charming little citrus fruit called sudachi. 

Shiso comes in two varieties--green and purple. The purple is used when pickling plums for umeboshi, and both kinds are said to have the ability to keep things in a lunchbox or o-bento, fresh. A few years ago their was a big trend of using the purple shiso to make a 'health drink'. It's ridiculously simple.

And besides being easy to make, healthy (and therefore brag worthy to friends) it is bright, beautiful magenta PINK. For us girl folk, it is like drinking dreams & magic & everything nice. I have heard it described as, "an after-bath drink, to cool down". It's common for Japanese to continue their bathing rituals, even into the hot summer, although the water is tepid and mild, not hot.

So on to this preparation of this Summer Nectar Extrordinare:

Ingredients:

5 handfuls of purple shiso (sometimes called perilla)

1 liter of water

1 cup of vinegar

1 cup of honey

Method:

Wash your herb well and bring the liter of water to a boil. When the water is boiling drop in your shiso and stir around till covered. Turn off the heat. Pour in your cup of vinegar (I've used apple cider vinegar, plain white vinegar, rice vinegar and even lemon juice). Stir around and you'll see the science laboratory magic of the acidic vinegar reacting with the shiso to turn the water pink, pink, pink. I usually let the shiso juice cool and react for about twenty minutes. Strain the shiso leaves from your liquid (they will have turned a mucky brown-green) and stir your honey in, to taste.

Let cool and serve with ice. The flavor will be minty-basil (shiso), a bit sweet and tart, and cooling... I'm thinking of trying shiso juice as a cocktail mix. Vodka Shiso, anyone?

What to serve at a Fox Wedding?

Rainy season is still upon us but full-blown summer is pushing its way through the clouds. Racing on my bike for my per usual frantic ride to the station I was greeted with a 'Fox Wedding'; the Japanese foxes of lore carry their wedding processions on days when the sun shines through the rain.

I like the Asian and Occidental images and stories associated with the fox-- a playful trickster, a beautiful & beguiling & dangerous woman, the guardian of the rice granary and business, a creature that doesn't have to be all good or all bad. Like any trickster, the fox seems to follow its own whims. An interesting linguistic note from Mandarin Chinese is that body odor is referred to as fox stink. After Kurosawa's film Dreams, I always think of them on those rainy days full of sunshine. Not looking for rainbows, but fox weddings...

The white foxes are thought to be especially magical.

Japanese foxes like to eat inari zushi, vinegar-rice stuffed tofu pockets. But today, for the wedding of the foxes in my neighborhood, we will have onigiri--rice balls. Rice balls are most often triangular, but mine are round; one of the first things that honorable husband taught me to prepare. His reasoning was so compelling that we are (almost) exclusively a round onigiri household. He said, "A big round rice ball is a samurai rice ball." And who can argue/counterpoint with that? Plus, they are much more forgiving to shape.

The Joy of Onigiri:

Very close to the top of my list of simple pleasures in the art of living, is onigiri. I thank Japan for teaching me about shower toilets and leisurely bathing, while I might thank the Midwest for thunderstorms and chatting on porches or New Mexico for sunsets and green chile. Think of the rice ball as you would a sandwich--comes in as much variety as your imagination, is portable, and the perfect thing to throw in your picnic basket, tuck in your purse or bring along on a hike. As with a sandwich, there really isn't any wrong way to make onigiri; just need rice, as you would bread.

So these are onigiri with hijiki, carrot and sesame seed. Hijiki is a kind of seaweed or sea vegetable. It's the darling of the macrobiotic movement. If you're eating macrobiotically, you can bet you'll be eating shapely little pieces of black hijiki. It's also the principle side dish to much Japanese homestyle cooking; that being a simmered hijiki and carrot with sesame seed side. And this is probably why I have hijiki onigiri, I was 'upcycling' a dish from a previous meal.

Method

Using plastic wrap, put 1/2  to one cup of rice in the center of your plastic. Flatten your rice a bit and in the center place your chosen filling. Bring the sides of the wrap together and shape into a ball, maneuvering the rice and wrap to keep your filling in the center. It's that easy.

Sometimes a little sprinkle of sea salt is nice. If you are handling your rice without plastic wrap, some water on your hands will keep everything from sticking to your hands. Oh, and use 'sticky rice', the grains are plump and will stick better than a long-grained variety.

Some suggested fillings:

A salted plum, umeboshi, is most traditional

Tuna fish and mayonnaise is surprisingly popular and tasty

Anything 'pickled', can be nice.

You can also wrap your onigiri with 'nori' sheets. And if you are going for an onigiri with the mixture throughout the ball, premix and then shape your onigiri. Because in Japan, the simmered side dish is such a staple, the leftovers are often brought back to life in rice balls. Simmered dishes are another topic for another day, but basically the broth for the simmering will be soy sauce, dashi, rice wine and sugar. To know the essence of Japanese cooking is to know the harmony of these flavors.

I want to eat onigiri, right now...

Edamame Green and Somen

Somen nasai!　そめんなさい！

Whether you speak or read Japanese, just know that you have heard/read my favorite Japanese pun. I've just apologized to you, but instead of the standard gomen nasai (I'm awfully sorry.), have hit my knee and guffawed by replacing the word with 'somen'. So it is summer here and we eat a lot of somen. Somen is a painfully-thin summer noodle that only takes one minute to boil and another minute to chill and is wonderful because you can garnish it with ice cubes. Ice cubes! And maybe a bit of shredded shiso and a citrus-y soy dipping sauce. The Japanese art of cookery is so practical and seasonal. Who wants to be in the kitchen any longer than you have to in this heat?

My apology is mostly to late Spring--how I blinked and you were gone and I didn't get to talk about the moody hydrangeas that change from green to blue to deep purple and white. Or my favorite fruit, the humble and shy biwa (loquat). Will have to wait till next year to wax poetic and goofy about the fruit that is an instrument, a nibble, a lake and the symbol of the goddess of literature, poetry, wealth and feminine wiles --Benten. Oh sigh.

But is the nature of Japanese summer. Here, much to quickly, and now all the humble fields offer up their bounty of: eggplant, tomato, cucumber, shiso and edamame. Little potatoes, some onions and corn are around, quickly to be followed by the okra and in my neck of the city--zucchini. Zucchini or marrows are quite exotic and fancy&foreign, in Japan. But thankfully the little fields around my house sell them cheap&plentiful like...

It's only the start of the somen season and my palate is already tired of the slippery noodle. So I was so pleased to see a television program with a fried version. Yaki-soba, the fried soba noodle, is what most people think of when they fry a noodle a la Japan, but I've always found it a bit too obvious for my mouth; probably because it uses a BBQ-style Worcestershire sauce called, "Bulldog" and it's one of the dishes that men cook while drinking beer and camping (a signature dish) or is served at the fair.

Anyway, summer is here and we are trying to be weekday vegetarians. And I'm much too lazy to do much more than season our vittles with sea salt, vinegar and olive oil...

So, I give you: Yaki-somen with (oh, gasp!) Bitter Melon and Summer Salad Round-Up

Ingredients for Yaki-somen and Goya (bitter melon): A bundle of somen, your cooking oil of choice--something light like canola, sesame oil, half a bitter melon, an egg, tofu-both soft and hard will work, salt and soy sauce.

A word on the (dreaded) Bitter Melon: The flavor is bitter, yes. But if you slice it thin and soak in salted water for a while, it cuts down on the bitterness. And if your goya sits in the fridge too long and you cut it open and the seeds have gone technicolor-orange, then it even (has a hint) of sweetness. I've embraced the bitter melon because it is low in sugar and is a homeopathic way to stave off diabetes.

Method:

Slice your goya thin and in a skillet fry it in your cooking oil. Maybe about two or three minutes. You want the green to stay vibrant. Throw your tofu in and when you see a bit of crunchy-looking skin forming plop an egg in and mix it all around. Do the hokey-pokey. Drizzle some soy sauce and sprinkle in some salt. Traditionally, this dish has thinly-sliced pork in it as well--it comes from Okinawa and is called, Goya Champuru (Mixed-up, everything bitter melon).  You're done.

The noodles: Boil your somen for a minute, drain and set on a plate to 'firm up'. Heat up your skillet and add a bit of oil. Hopefully your somen will almost be pancake-like in form and firmness. With your spatula, scoop up and fry it in the pan. Non-stick is good here. Fry on one side and drizzle some sesame oil for flavor. Flip over and over until you have a nice 'fried' look.

Debatable: Some people cook in sesame oil and others use it as a seasoning. Somewhere, long ago I read/heard that sesame oil should mainly be used for aroma, and using it to cook changes the structure of the oil and it releases 'free radicals'. I've never been very good at mathematics, so I use sesame oil for scent-layering and a little bit of the cook part. I feel that this is 'more Asian' in sentiment.

Top your Tofu and Goya mixture on to your noodles with a bit of shiso garnish. And put together a little chilled salad to go with it. Maybe even a few drops of soy sauce.

My salad included: cabbage (as base and roughage) diced cucumbers, tomato, celery stalk and leaf, carrot and lots of garlic. And of course, the ubiquitous sea salt, olive oil and vinegar.

Little "No" cat perched on the fridge to watch my antics. Oh, and husband proclaimed that the crispy noodles were refreshing and light. But then again, he likes airplane food.

The Cheese With Many Faces

When I was deciding whether or not to move to Japan from Taiwan over five years ago, I made a pros & cons list. Appearing in the top 5 of my pros was, simply, the word-DAIRY. After three years of being forcibly weened off of many things cheese (Chinese countries just really don't do dairy products), I was ready for some culinary realignment. Japan, has fully embraced milky goodness: butter, creamy milk and even sour cream in itty-bitty containers at the grocery. All this dairy love is kind of remarkable given that full-scale dairies weren't really in existence till the 1880's; probably in some way aided/forced upon by the American occupational government's school lunch program (that included milk), after World War Deux. 

That being said, cheese is pricey, especially anything artisanal. Somewhere in the food blogosphere I read of someone writing about their grandmother making 'farmer's cheese'. Basically a simple cheese with no need for rennet, or curing or much skill :-) Perfect for me!

So, I give you, Cheese With Many Faces. Use it as you would a ricotta, paneer, cottage cheese...

Ingredients:

A liter of the best milk you can find

A lemon or lemon juice or white vinegar

Salt, pepper, herbs or other additions (optional)

Method:

In a wide-mouthed pot pour your milk in and set to medium heat. When the milk has completely warmed through and little bubbles are forming on the edges (like before it is going to boil), put about 1/2 a cup of your chosen catalyst (lemon juice or vinegar) and add. Turn the heat to very low or off. You should see the milk separating almost immediately, forming very tiny curds and 'whey'. If your curds don't form, give a few swirls to the milk with a wooden spoon, and be patient. Possibly add a little more heat or a bit more lemon juice.

Tips:  Make sure you don't burn your milk on the bottom of the pot, gradually warm your milk. Also, don't stir too much, the curds can be quite small. You'll know your half way there when you see the curds have come together and the whey surrounds your pre-cheese.

Next:  Lay a  'cheese cloth' or a tightly-woven kitchen towel into a strainer over a bowl, and drain the curds and whey (saving the whey for other uses--makes a great soup stock addition, or 'health drink'), once you have the two separated, gather up the sides of the cloth into a ball and secure it with a rubber band to continue draining for a couple of hours.

For a ricotta-like cheese (lasagna) I've let it drain for about 20 minutes. In the case of paneer, a couple of hours and then into a square container and into the fridge, overnight. It an be sliced the next day :-)

Your additions can be added when you are straining (like above), when you are boiling, or if you forget, at the end...  Candied citrus peel makes a nice addition as does as freshly ground pepper or dill.

Wonderful on crusty bread and pizza!

Fine Pickins' from the Trash Pile

I collect cookbooks. Next to the stacks of novels by my bed there are always a few of them for in-bed reading and research (of the passive sort). I love cookbooks because they serve as little time capsules of long-lost food etiquette and fashions, allow one to travel to distance places (and times) and they are unerringly practical.

A favorite from my college years was a book of Vietnamese recipes with a forward by Jacques Pepin that I picked up at a garage sale in Albuquerque. It perfectly matched the time period in my life when I was obsessed with French colonial Vietnam. Think Marguerite Duras, "The Lover" or the film, "Indochine". I still haven't been to Vietnam, but when I do finally go there to try the cuisine -in living color-  I'll head straight to the royal city of Hue to try the Beef 7-Ways, an imperial dish. I can't even count the times I've used the book to make spring rolls, and the gorgeous sauce of sauces in Vietnam- Nước chấm. To know nuoc cham is to know the essence of Vietnamese flavors: sweet, slightly sour and savory with a hint of garlic and red chili pepper. It's so good. So essential.

I also have a certain softness for the time-tested recipes that are put together by churches, schools or women's groups. A book of recipes compiled by the good women of the St. George Orthodox Church of El Paso, Texas, is another favorite. What a juxtaposition to see the local green chile enchilada recipes next to Greek baklava or the Arabian dishes by women called Salma or Yasmin. How did they find themselves in the American Southwest? And the submission from Pastor John Davis for garlic sauce--a head of garlic blended in the food processor with olive oil--so charming! 

 I can't think of a time that I've ever <bought> a cookbook, full-price at a store, straight off the press. Instead I find the books, or they find me at used book stores,estate sales or gifts from little old ladies. I especially like old books with clippings or notes scribbled in. I like to look at the handwriting, inscriptions, food-splatters, passage of time.

There is no Rachel Ray (yuck) or any of the current culinary stars on my bookshelf. Firstly, I find some of those in the de riguer, quite dangerous to new cookers. They seem lacking the sense of history, art, romance and tradition of a cuisine. Shortcuts to creating 'oriental noodles' are just fine, but only after you've learned exactly what makes oriental noodles. Oh, and if I see a recipe for said, 'Oriental Noodles', it is more out of curiosity that I read along. It's amusing to see the omissions and additions. How is a new cooker ever to learn of the spirit of a cuisine if they aren't given what is at the heart?

So, I have many books that I use for reference but don't actually attempt the dishes--would be unfair to the cuisine and who am I to call a dish by its proper name, when I know so little about it? One case in point is a book of Scandinavian Cookery. I have the sense that caraway, dill, cream, duck, smoked fish and all manner of piquant berry, are used. But I don't make a cream sauce for my salmon and call it Swedish.

This rather long rant and imposing of my own food pedagogy has been to introduce the newest book to my pile...

Salvaged from the paper recyclables that my neighborhood dutifully lays out on Tuesdays. This is the fabric and board outer casing of this leather-bound mammoth of knowledge--dated from the 70's.

In it a wealth of technique and secrets can be found:

In general, Japanese cookbooks are heavy on illustrative photos or drawings. I love this. In this land of sea creatures, and growing up a landlubber-locked girl, my fish and sword skills are minimal. I don't know how to best use a fish that doesn't come prepared by the fishmonger.

It's like an ichthyology lesson, too.

Or a study in the regional differences of o-shogatsu o-zoni. New Year's soup!

"Sen" doesn't seem to mind.

Shortcut

A bit of garnish always makes a plate more appealing. I especially like a little bit of green to color my food more appetizing. So, without further ado~~ I give you the workhorse of garnish, PARSLEY.

 

Sprinkle it on anything to 'flash up' your humble table offering. Now what to do when you've bought a bunch but only need a sprinkle, smidgeon, or flicker from your fingertips? 

Freeze it. Chop it up nice and fine and scurry it away (like a nice little squirrel) into a bag/parcel for safe keeping, in the freezer. Parsley freezes up bright green and gorgeous--ready to crackle over your next naked dish.

What am I...chopped liver? Keeping it (almost) Kosher and definitely Vegetarian

All is kismet! I've been looking for a vegetable pâté for so long that I can't remember not looking for one--it had  become a certain 'state of being' for me. Sure, no excuses with the mountains of recipes online... But reading through some of them I could never imagine them really tasting anything like a liver pâté; seemed much too risky. Well, after years of waiting to taste someone's, anyone's, vegetarian-but-tasting-like-the-real-thing pâté, my friend Mr. Spooky from New York, brought his autobiographical food contribution to our book club in the form of his, Veggie Chopped Liver--"No meat, just a little pork."

Inspired by his mother, of course.

I almost fell out of the chair calling for the Manischewitz in my gratefulness to Mr. Spooky for bringing his chopped liver. Doesn't it really look like pâté?! And the taste, it's even better than the real thing (maybe this is partially due to the image/association that one isn't eating a 'body sponge'). In my state of bliss, Mr. Spooky so kindly let me take a portion home. This is his chopped liver and recipe, with my more inferior vegetable pâté to follow:

Veggie Chopped Liver--"No meat, just a little pork" 

Ingredients:

2 cups white button mushrooms-roughly chopped

2 cups onions-diced

5 hard boiled eggs-roughly chopped

4 tablespoons butter (the almost-kosher bit)

1/4 lb walnuts-chopped

White pepper and salt, to taste

Method:

Saute the onions in the butter until they are soft and a bit caramelized. Add the walnuts and mushrooms and lightly saute them, as well. Remove from the pan and add the chopped eggs and seasonings.   

Now here is Mr. Spooky's secret tip/technique: You must hand chop this mixture. Don't rely on the food processor. It is not your friend, and mother certainly didn't use one.

I'm sadly a defiant and contrary creature, at best. So I just had to put the hand chopping to the test. Look at the difference in results.

One one side we have a 'mush', and the other a chop-chop that more resembles the texture we love. I'm glad I heeded Mr. Spooky's, "You gotta chop it to get the right texture." mantra with at least half of my veggie pâté. We're lucky to get 1/2 right is life, right?

My additions included a bit of balsamic vinegar with the onions and the same spices I used for my Pâté a la Japonaise.  

Or perhaps with a little glass of your favorite tipple:

Top Cat approved...

Where Have You Bean?

This is what I have been asking my friend, Spring. To further coax the warm weather and new vegetables to replace all those winter ones that have gone limp, I've had this wooden placard painted with haru (Spring) sitting on my kitchen table for weeks. Haru has finally decided to sit at my table with an offering of sora-mame-- Fava beans.  My (becoming) good friend Matsuyama san (the vegetable chariot from an earlier post) has been flashing takenoko (fresh bamboo shoots) and in the last week I've made green peas with takenoko and rice on more than two occasions.

These fava beans could have been used to make homemade, time-consuming, not from a box, falafel, but I used them in a lentil salad--inspired by my Aussie friend, Grace.  The lentil salad also proved the perfect home for a strange Japanese wild plant-- Yuki uri, which is translated as something on the lines of, "It may still snow". And it did snow while this 'wild vegetable' had taken up residence in my refrigerator. Right in the middle of Cherry Blossom season. The yuki uri is something of a 'hosta' plant?!!

 

A Lentil Salad With Some Spring

Ingredients:

A cup (or so) of lentils

Two cloves of finely chopped garlic (I loathe chopping garlic so I use a press)

Handful of parsley, sea salt, sesame oil

Lemon or other citrus

A bit of green onion (for color and flavor contrast)

Yuki uri (optional)

Fava beans (optional)

Method:

Bowl your lentils with a very liberal amount of sea salt, it should take about 10-15 minutes. While the lentils are boiling, let your fresh fava beans have a two to three minute bath in the hot water. Prepare a cold water rinse for the fava to jump into after their bath. The fava beans bathe in a tough outer coat, you'll need to remove their outerwear to get to the beany goodness. You can prick them with a sharp knife, but I use my nail and then just pop them out.

Finely chop your garlic, parsley and other additions. This lentil salad is very forgiving and a good 'host' to a lot of different pantry dwellers. Raisins, chopped nuts, grated carrots or even chopped celery would be welcome.

Drain and lightly rinse your lentils, add garlic, the other orphan additions and a drizzle or two of sesame oil (olive oil for a less complicated flavor or both), and your citrus (to taste).  Mix and blend, mix and blend. Don't forget to taste.

There is a certain kind of magic when you combine citrus, oil, garlic and salt. It's the backdrop for any nice salad-y thing. The flavors get even better overnight.

I've served this lentil creation as a macrobiotic side or on lettuce. I think I'll try it as a topping for tofu next.

Enjoy!

Pâté à la Japonaise

No, these aren't sakura, but plum blossoms, called ume. And they're the secret ingredient that gives my chicken liver pâté a hint of Japan. 

In February, I was asked to make a tête-à-tête anniversary dinner for a friend who loves French pâté. Having her second anniversary in February, when Tokyo is frozen, the ume blossoms are the first hint that we will eventually be able to give up the layers of wool socks and spring will eventually come. Busy purveyors of seasonal goodness (and a lot of free time) will just be opening their jugs of homemade plum brandy and umeshu, that they set-up in May of the previous year. So, with a couple years worth of said brandy in my cupboard and a desire to start making my own pâté-- I give you Pâté à la Japonaise!

A bit of warning: There are bloody livers in the following illustrative photos, not for the faint of heart (or liver).

Ingredients:

1 clove

2 allspice berries

3 coriander seeds

12 peppercorns

 

Milk

A couple pinches of salt

2 shots of Ume-shu

1 medium onion, finely chopped

½ cup butter (about 115g)

1/3 cup cream (about 75mil)

Chicken or pork livers (about 450g)

Method:

Clean all spongy and strange things from the liver. Cut liver to be a similar size and thickness. Put liver in a bowl and cover with milk (soak while you chop the onion and prepare the spices).

Grind all spices together until fine. A coffee grinder works well (or mortar and pestle).

 
Melt ½ of the butter in a skillet. When butter is melted, add chopped onion and cook until soft, about 5 minutes (don’t brown the onions). Turn up the heat to high, when the pan is very hot—add the livers to the pan. Sprinkle with salt and cook the livers on one side until they begin to brown (about 1 minute). Flip and cook the other side, throwing in a shot or two of ume-shu. 

IMPORTANT: Don’t overcook the livers:-) They should be pink on the inside. Better to undercook than overcook. Turn the fire off and you should have a buttery liquid with liver and onion.  

Put everything into a food processor or blender with remaining butter, cream and spices. Purée until smooth; taste and adjust seasoning.

And now for the tiresome part: To get that velvety-like feeling of French style pâté, you must ‘sieve’ the pâté. Pour (or rather, plop) your mixture into a fine mesh strainer. With a plastic spoon (spatula) press the pate through the mesh. This can take a long time, but the texture is worth it. Alternatively, if you like a more hearty ‘country style’ pâté, you can skip this process.

 Allow long suffering felines the leftover cream....

It may not look like much now, but after 30 minutes of time/liver sieving you'll have enough Pâté à la Japonaise for a terrine or two. Chill for several hours or overnight, tightly-wrapped with plastic wrap to keep your pale pink from going brown.

Sadly, I don't have a picture of the final product. But, I'll let you in on a little secret: If you don't achieve much of a pale pink (blink and the livers have gone brown) just add a tiny bit of red food coloring. Okay, I said it. I'm guilty.  Pâté à la Japonaise is a little sweeter than your average savory pâté, but it seems to be popular with children. Good way to get them to eat their liver?