Mitsuwa Marketplace

Forgive me if this post makes no sense: the coffee machine spat out water speckled with grinds this morning instead of the usual normal coffee, so I'm flying without the assistance of caffeine. Unfortunately, we didn't do too much cooking over the weekend. We spent the majority of the day on Saturday in the suburbs, running various errands and having dinner with D's family. I was somehow able to convince D to take me to this wonderful Asian marketplace we'd heard about on Check, Please! which is one of the best local shows on PBS. Each week, the guests on the show visit three Chicago-area restaurants -- each guest picks one restaurant -- and they sit down to discuss the places and their experiences with host Alpana Singh. Alpana is fun to watch on television -- she's quite a personality -- and you know she knows her food, and her wine: she's the youngest person to ever pass the Master Sommelier exam, which is quite a feat.
A few weeks ago, Check, Please! featured Mitsuwa Marketplace, the largest Japanese grocery store in the Midwest. It's actually a chain, with most locations in California (and one, mysteriously, in Jersey) but it was far from a big-box experience. Although it is quite large, and the majority of the building is occupied by the grocery store, there is a sizable food court (which is what our visit was mostly for, aside from picking up some sesame oil and scallions) as well as a travel agency and a bookstore. Aside from the oil and onions, we had a third mission: a bentō box. D picked me up the cutest, greenest bentō in the store, complete with strange slogan: It Is So Wonderful To Be Able to Maintain Your Dreams is scrawled across the top of the box, as well as on the accompanying bag. I was kind of nonplussed by the selection of bentō boxes, but I was able to find the perfect one anyhow. In case you don't know, a bentō box is a Japanese-style take-out container or lunch-box, complete with small compartments for different types of food. It's all about pleasing presentation and compactness, which are two things that I am quite fond of.
The marketplace is overwhelming: since I don't speak Japanese, it was kind of a confusing venture, but we made out perfectly. We had a bit of luck: at the food court, everything is written in Japanese (with English titles that mean very little to me) but all the vendors have display cases with each meal inside, numbered and titled to make it easy to order. I wanted something noodle-based, and although many places had lots of soups that looked heavy on the noodles, I wasn't looking for liquid. I wanted a solid, stir-fried mass of wiggling noodles in sauce. Enter yakisoba!
Yakisoba is a fried-noodle dish made with cabbage, onions, bean sprouts, carrots, ginger, seaweed, and fish flakes. It's not too spicy, but it has a bit of a kick -- at least the version that we ate did. It's also quite healthy, aside from the sodium in the sauce, which is typically made from sosu, a Japanese worcestershire sauce. We split a gigantic plate between us for $3.40, which is a steal, especially since you get to stand there and watch it being prepared, which is extremely fun. They make it on a giant grill, and while we waited, three more people ordered yakisoba, which meant that they just kept adding more noodles and sauce and veggies to the pile. By the end, the entire grill was nearly covered in noodles.
It was fantastic, and we ate the entire plate in no time. I was full, but D wasn't. Good, because we hadn't tried the sushi, which was, according to D, downright fabulous. I personally don't eat raw fish, so I wasn't even able to try a bite of the tuna maki, but for $3.00 D got a large tray-full (twelve pieces total) which he says was delicious. The look on his face while he ate it confirms this fact: that's got to be some great sushi. They also sell sushi-quality fish in the grocery component of the marketplace, which is obviously very good. I considered buying a slab or two, but we weren't done with our errands, and it would have gone wrong by the time we were able to refrigerate it. I'm cool with that, though: just means we'll have to take another trip back!

Yakisoba (Adapted from Mitsuwa Marketplace recipe)
Peel and julienne one large carrot and one half an onion. Remove the core from one half cabbage and cut into long, bite-sized strips. Rinse a cup of bean sprouts and drain well.
Rinse a package of yakisoba noodles and place on a plate. Cover with saran wrap and microwave for one minute -- this keeps the noodles from sticking together when you stir-fry them.
Heat one tablespoon oil in a frying pan -- or, you can cook one slice of bacon, diced, in the pan, which is what they did at the marketplace -- and add the vegetables. Stir-fry the veggies until they begin to wilt. Add the bean sprouts last, however -- you want them to retain some crunchiness. Add the noodles and mix well. Once everything is incorporated, add the sauce. Most noodle packages come with a sauce packet; if not, you can use about 1/4 cup Japanese worcestershire sauce. Coat the noodles and vegetables with the sauce and heat through.
Serve with some grated ginger, seaweed flakes, and fish flakes on top.
Oishii! (Delicious!)

Salade Niçoise Sandwiches

Although a specialty ingredient is required for this recipe, it's still really fun to make -- if you can get your hands on some olivada, a intense black olive paste made from pitted and brine cured black olives. We could not find this ingredient, and I'm afraid to say that the sandwiches suffered slightly as a result. Instead, we used an olive tapenade made primarily from green olives. I can only imagine how good the sandwiches with the black paste are -- I'm still looking for some good olivada, and I'm sure that Treasure Island, a "European-Style" market we go to often, has it somewhere.
Anyhow, these sandwiches are great to bring for lunch if you have access to a fridge, excellent paired with a bowl of soup for a dinner, and are easy to make in bulk. You just need some time to let them sit in the fridge. The recipe is another one from The Bon Appetit Cookbook (sponsored link) which I truly, truly love. It's a hefty tome, but it's beautiful and bright (I love the orange text and dust jacket, and the white embossed cover is a really nice touch) and it stays quite flat so you don't lose your place. I hold it open with a big binder clip when necessary and that works perfectly.
We made these sandwiches over the weekend while working on our graduate applications. He's done now, but at the time I believe he had two left, and we were working most weekends trying to get everything put together. These were a simple distraction and allowed us to continue our work practically uninterrupted as they sauced around in the fridge until it was eatin' time. We served them with some state fair potato salad (recipe forthcoming) and it was a splendid, fatty meal. Although fish is quite good for you, and we halved the amount of mayonnaise in both recipes, so it wasn't as naughty as it could have (or should have) been.
The recipe is named after a traditional French dish from Nice, Salade Niçoise (pronouced ne-shwa) that consists of tuna, egg, capers, green beans, artichokes, cucumbers -- a slew of things that aren't in these sandwiches. I suppose that's because they're a variation on the dish and wouldn't taste as good in this form, but it's hard to explain why they chose this name in that case. Most likely because it sounds fancy, and this is a fancy sandy. You could even serve it at a dinner party if the theme was right. The original recipe makes six, so something tells me that's exactly what the maker intended. I have cut it in half, to make three sandwiches -- save one for later and split it with a bowl of soup for a tasty lunch or dinner, if you've got a lot of soup. I'll bet this would be fantastic with red lentil soup.

Salade Niçoise Sandwiches
Start with a 1-pound loaf of soft french or italian bread. Cut into three sections crosswise, then cut each piece in half. These will be the bases for your sandwiches. Open the slices so that you are working with six pieces of bread.
Mix 1 drained can of tuna packed in water with 2 tablespoons drained capers, 3 tablespoons of mayonnaise, and 1 tablespoon of fresh lemon juice. Season with ground pepper. Make sure the tuna and sauce are combined well.
Spread 1/2 a tablespoon of olivada on each piece of bread and cover each slice with a fair amount of arugula or watercress -- trim off the bitter, hard-to-chew stems as you're washing the leaves.
Spread the bottom slice of bread with approximately 1/3 of the tuna mixture -- there will be no leftovers that aren't in sandwich form -- and top with thin slices of tomato and red onion. Place the top piece of bread on the sandwich.
Wrap each individual sandwich tightly in aluminum foil and refrigerate for at least an hour. They get saucier the longer you can wait, so bear with the clock for as long as you can before digging in. The result? An intensely briny, delectable sandwich with just enough zest and flavor. Plus, it's not very complicated to make, and most of the ingredients are already in my kitchen. You can substitute the olivada with a homemade version by throwing some pitted, brine-cured black olives in a food processor and hitting "puree" until they form a tasty paste.

This post was edited on 2/6/2007 to add a link to the Red Lentil Soup recipe.

New Scandinavian Cooking: Halibut with Herbs and Rosemary-Lemon Butter

Today, I'm featuring a delightful cooking show that airs on our local PBS station*: New Scandinavian Cooking. The show is produced in Norway and about to begin its fourth season, and rumors are that a new chef will be taking the hot seat: Claus Meyer, a Danish chef -- or gastronomic entrepreneur, as his website boasts. Although his website seems pretty firm on the details, providing stills and even a CV, the official website of the series (scandcook.com) says that Andreas Viestad, the beloved season one and two chef, will be back for a fourth season.
I'm inclined to believe Chef Meyer's website, mostly because the Scandcook website is kind of crazy. For example: click on the link to read Andreas's bio and you're taken to Tina Nordström's bio page. She's the host of the third season, and I dare say I like her even more than Andreas. I caught the show with her as the host, and when I stumbled upon a repeat of season two, I got pretty flustered. "Where's Tina? Her theme song is so much better!" (the theme songs for this show totally freaking rock, by the way). But I got used to Andreas and his wacky ways, and now I'm sad that neither of them will be back for a new season. But I'm excited for Danish food, which will be a new type of cooking for the series. Andreas specializes in Norwegian food; Tina, in Swedish.
The best thing about this show has to be the way that the food is made. Unless there are some serious weather conditions -- and I mean serious -- the food is prepared outdoors on a sort of fold out kitchen table/stove combination. You even get to watch the chef put together this contraption in fast motion, which is a trip. Watching it real-time would be a drag, but with the cool music and tah-dah pose at the end of the setup, it's one of the highlights of the show. When I mentioned weather conditions, I was understating dramatically. This guy makes ice cream on a glacier in one episode. He's not even wearing gloves, people. He churns his own butter, milks cows, rides horses, stays up all night and day making bread. Tina catches fish and guts them right on the boat (throwing the remains out to "his old friends -- a tasty treat!")

Halibut with Herbs and Rosemary-Lemon Butter
One of my favorite episodes of all time is Andreas's Royal White Halibut, which happens to be the first episode of the first season. They really knew how to launch this show, I tell you, because this episode has to be one of the more sensational ones (besides the glacier making ice cream escapade, which takes place later in the same season). One of the best things about the show in general is that they visit a particular area, cook some food local to that area, and offer up some interesting (I believe they call it "rich") history of the place. This episode is in Alta, which is far, far north. It's impossible to grow nearly anything in this climate, what with the rocky soil and the freezing temperatures, but the halibut is plentiful. We visit some local fishermen, who offer to let us trek onto their boat for an expedition out to sea. The theory is to catch some halibut and then cook it after returning to land; Andreas one-ups them by making them an appetizer on the boat, ten minutes after the fish has been caught. Wow, dude. Way to feed those hungry sailors! (Tina is fond of finding "hungry sailors" and feeding them her creations, by the way, and she says so in several episodes).
They soon return to land, 20-pound halibut in tow. He starts by cleaning the fish (thanks for the instructions, because next time I have a 20-pound fresh halibut in my kitchen, I'll know exactly what to do) and rubbing the skin on both sides with sea salt. He then sets to rubbing it with massive quantities of rosemary, chopped parsley, thyme, chopped fresh bay leaves (although he mentions that dry will suffice), and marigold.
Andreas sets to digging a pit in the sand on the beach; I'm sitting on my couch thinking: the hell? What's going on here? He's going to cook the fish in the hole. Sand and all. He starts by laying down some seaweed, then, some sticks and brush. He lights those on fire and covers them with a few large slabs of rock. More seaweed; then, the fish. A fish and seaweed sandwich, with rocks and sand for garnish! Tasty!
No, really, he's actually cooking the fish in the sand-pit. I'm quite impressed. Also worried about the texture of the sand, but he seems to think it will be fine. He begins to stuff the fish with more ridiculous amounts of the herbs above, and sets it on the seaweed bed. More seaweed on top; then, after it's covered, he pours a bottle of dry white wine (saving a glass for himself, which he drinks straight from the bottle immediately) over the entire thing. Then, a layer of sand is shoveled on top of the whole mess. Steam is pouring out from all directions. How will he know when the fish is ready to eat? Why, of course! A high-tech thermometer was placed carefully in said fish before cooking and the digital output rests on the mound of steaming sand. Brilliant! That's how they did it in the old days.
Two hours later, and the fish is ready to eat. Andreas and some of his fishing buddies dig their old friend out from his steaming grave and place him on a giant platter. It takes two men to carry it to the carving table and feeds a large crowd of twenty or so people mingling about. I wonder, did they see the steaming sand pit and say: look! Someone must be cooking halibut! More likely they were invited to the shoot, but still, it's funny to imagine them all happening upon the fish during a chilly stroll on the beach.

Want to make this at home? Substitute the 20-pound halibut for four 1/3 pound halibut steaks. Rub them with about 2 teaspoons sea salt, then create a bed of herbs in the frying pan out of 1 cup of parsley, 1 cup total rosemary, marigold, thyme, and 4 bay leaves. Use about half of the total amount on the bottom, the rest should cover the fish as it cooks.
Place the fish on the bed of herbs and cover with the remaining spices. Pour about 3/4 cup dry white wine ("Use wine that you would actually drink," Andreas recommends; otherwise, your fish won't taste any good) over the top and cover the dish. Bake in a 400º oven for about 15 to 20 minutes, until the fish is opaque throughout. We just made it directly on the stove, which turned out splendidly and took less time than baking. Brush off the herbs to serve.
You can make a rosemary butter sauce to serve with the fish, which I highly recommend. Reserve and cook down the liquid from the finished fish, until you have about 1/4 cup of the juices left. Put this to the side.
Heat 1 tablespoon butter ("until it bubbles enthusiastically"). Add 1 tablespoon chopped rosemary, 1 teaspoon chopped thyme, and 1 bay leaf. Cook for about two minutes, then add 7 more tablespoons of butter. After it melts, drop in 1 teaspoon chopped tarragon, 2 teaspoons chopped parsley, and 1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest. Cook for about five more minutes over medium heat. Be careful not to let the sauce boil; otherwise, the butter will burn. Add 2 to 3 tablespoons lemon juice, the 1/4 cup reduced marinade from the fish, and season with salt and pepper. Strain sauce and discard any chunks of herb that remain.
Pour the sauce over the halibut (tip: keep the fish warm by covering it while you make the sauce) and it is ready to eat.
Jättegott! (Delicious!)
If you ever get the chance to watch this show, I highly recommend it. It's really a treat to watch experienced chefs brave the outdoors and conquer food in its natural setting. It is much more informative, exciting, and delightful than anything you'll find on the Food Network Channel. Not to knock the Food Network, which has its place, but this program far surpasses most other cooking shows on-air today.

*The website says that the show is available to 347 public television stations in the US. It's also available on cable television (no stations listed) and DVDs can be purchased on the official website.