T
oday, the ubiquitous sweet potato peddler drives a truck and has a recording of his famous cry playing repeatedly over a megaphone. Still, his truck is filled with the same rocks and potatoes; still, the wafting smell is as sweet and smoky. Thirty years later, the satisfaction felt from biting into the steaming hot potato is as uncomplicated and deep, a joy that can only be derived from the simplest things.
Japanese cuisine, as may be said of many things Japanese, is grounded in simplicity and purity. Whereas the cuisine of other cultures may dazzle and delight by the complexity of ingredients and techniques, Japanese cuisine reduces the number of components in a dish to a minimalist act that allows the character of each player to resonate with clarity. Flavors are pure and true, unfettered by the many spices and seasonings encountered in dishes of other countries. A classic example would be
Horenso-no-Hitashi,
where blanched spinach is served with just a sprinkling of soy sauce. The sweetness of the spinach is hardly ever so pronounced as when served in such stark simplicity. Another is
Furo Fuki Daikon
(page 130), a warming dish of thick daikon radish rounds simmered until practically melting, topped with a sweet miso sauce. The delicate flavor of fresh tofu may be accentuated only by a zesty
ponzu
(light, salty, citrus dipping sauce) in
Yu-Dofu
(Tofu in Hot Water). Or with the roasted sweet potatoes the food can stand on its own. How absolutely zen that so much can result from so little!
The ultimate dining experiences in Japan is
kaiseki
cuisine. They take place at country inns, temples, and hundreds-of-years-old restaurants where a diner sits on
tatami
mats in a starkly decorated room. The
shoji
screen doors are flung wide open, and the room spills out into a Japanese garden of elegantly situated rocks, ponds filled with colorful carp, small shrubs, perhaps a crimson maple tree or two—and tranquility. The diner finds spread before him a vast array of comestibles, each displayed with grace in a variety of individual ceramic and porcelain dishes. The utmost care is taken to adorn each dish, whether it be the accent of a tiny leaf resting on one, or the beautiful composition of a few vegetables in another. The meal thus reflects the garden, consisting of numerous components, each pure and simple, the whole harmonizing in a pastoral symphony. I recall the first time I stayed at a
ryokan
(high-class Japanese inn) and was amazed at the splendid display—perhaps twelve to fifteen dishes!—served in the privacy of our own room. Or the leisurely afternoon spent at a temple for nuns in Tottori Prefecture, where we dined for several hours on course after course (each being very small, of course) of truly vegan
shojin-ryori
(Buddhist vegetarian cooking).
Naturally, most of Japan does not dine on a daily basis on such elaborate
kaiseki
cuisine. Although the average Japanese meal served at home would not consist of fifteen dishes, many housewives still prepare five or six. In addition to rice, a typical meal would include soup, either miso or clear, o-
shinko
(pickles), a protein item such as broiled fish or chilled tofu, a couple of vegetable dishes, perhaps one blanched and the other stewed, and a small and soothing salad in rice vinegar.
From Kyushu in the south to Hokkaido in the far north, you will find the same basic dishes—
tempura, soba,
and
ni-mono
(stewed dishes)—in addition to regional specialties. They will differ primarily in the degree of seasoning used. In the warm south, people prefer their food to be
usu-aji
(lightly seasoned) with only a splash of soy sauce or a pinch of sea salt. Folks from Hokkaido, or even Tokyo, sometimes find this bland, although natives will attest that it is simply more subtle. In the cold north,
koi aji
(deeper flavor) is favored, and the
dashi
(stock) used is darker, saltier, and richer; folks from Osaka often find it too salty. My mother, the
Edokko
in our family (a person born and raised in the original parts of Tokyo, once called Edo), always prefers her food seasoned with more soy sauce, miso, and salt than I do. (Interestingly, the further north one goes in Japan, the more cases of hypertension one encounters.) In some areas, they may even use a heavy hand in adding sugar. I found that in Tottori Prefecture, a region to the south, the soup stock for udon noodles verged on being strangely sweet. Thus, the amount of soy sauce, miso, sea salt, and sweetener can be varied according to personal taste, and recipes provided in this book often indicate a range.
The Japanese archipelago, once isolated from the world except for the infamous Black Ships from the Netherlands, has eagerly borrowed and absorbed as much from the rest of the world as possible. An exciting culinary evolution has taken place, especially in the past twenty years or so, particularly with the influx of French and Mediterranean cuisine. The influence of the West and other cultures has rendered a new cuisine celebrated by many creative young chefs in Tokyo and other large cities that marry components of two cultures while maintaining traditional Japanese simplicity. This is what I call
Nouveau Japonaise
(Nouvelle Japanese Cuisine). In addition, the past several decades have also fostered the development of a new home-style cooking, which also often marries the flavors of two cultures. These earthy, albeit sometimes not too healthful, dishes seem to be a favorite of children. They come with names such as “Curry Rice,”
Korrokeh
(Potato Croquettes), and “White Stew” (a bechamel sauce-based stew with vegetables and, usually, meat). Although neither style of cuisine can boast a tradition as long as
Furo Fuki Daikon
(Stewed Daikon with Sweet Miso, page 130), they have become utterly incorporated into the modern Japanese diet, forever changing the face of the centuries-old shoyu-flavored cuisine. In this book, I have devoted a chapter to each one of these new traditions, vegan-style.
Japanese Attitudes Toward Nutrition and Vegetarianism
Although dietary habits are changing rapidly, the Japanese believe that good health comes from eating small amounts of a wide variety of foods. The Japanese Ministry of Health encourages eating thirty different types of food each day, a guideline that is far more overreaching than the USDA’s Food Pyramid. Some of the food groups included would baffle most Westerners, including one for sea vegetables and another for fermented foods, all considered essential to good health. Most Japanese today still consume food from many of these food groups. However, a deterioration in the overall quality of the diet is apparent as many Japanese, especially those in urban areas, depart from a traditional diet. The Japanese, who throughout most of history considered it uncivilized and unclean to kill and eat a four-legged creature, now pride themselves for their $50-per-pound Kobe beef, considering it uncivilized not to consume some animal protein at practically every meal. Dairy products, absent from the Japanese diet for centuries, have in recent years become more prevalent, thanks to a highly intrusive and successful marketing campaign spearheaded by the American dairy industry. Now just about every Japanese school child drinks milk, and every mother believes it is necessary to provide enough calcium in the diet and prevent osteoporosis.
At its worst, the traditional breakfast of rice,
nori
(a toasted sea vegetable), miso soup, and a protein dish has been replaced by inch-thick white bread toast and coffee. Lunch is a bowl of ramen noodles, and dinner, perhaps,
tonkatsu
(deep-fried pork) served with shredded cabbage; no chance of eating from the thirty food groups here! At its best, however, many people still delight daily in the simple, traditional dishes of yesteryear, consuming substantial amounts of
wakame
(a dark green sea vegetable), tofu, and fermented soybeans.
Japan is not a country of vegetarians, despite a long tradition of vegetarian cooking in its Buddhist temples (called
shojin-ryori),
and the abundance of vegetable- and legume-based dishes that can be found in traditional Japanese cuisine. In fact, the idea of vegetarianism is almost foreign, illustrated by the fact that most modern Japanese opt to use the English term “vegetarian,” should the need arise, rather than their own, perfectly good Japanese word,
sai-shoku-shugi-sha.
When one does admit to being a vegetarian, people generally express incredulity, and a barrage of questions begin. They often express the image they hold in their minds of vegetarianism being dark and bland, a meal centering around brown rice with a few vegetables, without color, excitement, or taste. Actually, many Japanese are uninterested in vegetarianism because they do not feel that it is necessary; they believe that their diet is already as healthful as possible. With their longevity statistics and the existence of more documented centenarians than any other nation, one would think that they are justified in this belief. Yet recent studies also reveal that stomach, intestinal, and breast cancer are all on the rise, as well as heart attacks and strokes. Japanese longevity so far may simply be due to the effects of what was once a healthful diet coupled with modern medicine; younger Japanese are not faring so well.
In contrast, I encountered many people (mostly women) who were sincerely interested in exploring the idea of approaching health through one’s diet. In my many cooking classes and public cooking demonstrations at department stores in Japan, I found that most Japanese housewives were deeply intrigued by the idea of a vegetarian diet and its benefits. Although many admitted that making such a complete and drastic change would be difficult in their lives, they frequently promised to do their best to incorporate aspects of it into their diet (as they bowed and thanked me). Likewise, the past ten to fifteen years have seen the emergence of numerous natural food stores, which, though quite limited by American standards, have proven to be quite successful and popular, especially with female customers. Some young women even consider vegetarianism to be somewhat chic.
Animal rights, however, is a concept that is unheard of in Japan. This is a country with a tradition of whaling, where women consider it fashionable to flaunt furs, and the famous Kobe cattle are fed beer and massaged daily to produce the perfect marbleization of fat in the sweetest, most tender, most expensive beef—and diabetic cows. The best approach I found to introducing vegetarianism was to discuss its health benefits.
Trying to dine out in a strictly vegan fashion in Japan can present challenges. Although dairy products are not found in traditional Japanese cuisine, fish-based stocks appear in a range of dishes from appetizers to soups to entrées. This makes dining out difficult, although fine dining establishments may be willing to accommodate such a customer (albeit with surprise at the request). My advice to vegan or vegetarian visitors of Japan: find a temple or restaurant that serves traditional
kaiseki
-style
shojin-ryori
(Buddhist vegetarian cooking)—and splurge big time. You won’t regret it.
The
Recipes
It is important to understand that this is a vegan Japanese cookbook. Included are many recipes that are truly traditional—that is, recipes that are by definition vegetarian to begin with. In addition, I have also developed vegan recipes for dishes that traditionally would contain meat, fish, or fowl. These recipes do not exist in traditional Japanese cooking and, for the most part, do not even exist in shojin-ryori. In them, I have utilized nontraditional ingredients that produce traditional-tasting results, such as the
Chawan-Mushi
(Savory Custard Soup, page 64), an egg custard soup in which I have substituted silken tofu as the custard (most Japanese would be utterly amused by the idea), or the
Tonkatsu
(Deep-Fried Pork, Vegan-Style, page 153) that features seitan instead of pig.
Japanese dishes are usually flavored simply with just a few seasonings—soy sauce, mirin, miso, sake, sea salt, broth, and sugar. With the exception of Japanese chili pepper in a few select dishes, spices are generally not used. Where the saltiness of soy sauce is counterbalanced with sugar, I have substituted more healthful sweeteners such as brown rice syrup, FruitSource, or evaporated cane juice. Although not recommended for health reasons, sugar can be used if the alternative sweeteners are unavailable.
The Japanese Meal
The composition of the three basic meals served in Western cultures differs radically from traditional meals in Japan. In the U.S., sweet items are generally consumed at breakfast in the form of breakfast pastries, pancakes, waffles, cereals with sugar, or toast with jam. Lunches often consist of sandwiches, soups, salads, and other lighter fare, while dinners center on a meat entree or a heavier pasta or casserole dish. In Japan, the variances are not so great, and the same types of food are served at every meal, although meals earlier in the day tend to be simpler. Otherwise, there are virtually no dishes that are meant specifically for a certain time of of day and no other.
Rice, or
gohan,
is generally the centerpiece of every meal, unless some form of noodle is being served.
Gohan
also means “meal” and can refer to breakfast, lunch, or dinner. The other items are all meant to be eaten in small quantities as accompaniments to the rice. Gohan, in this sense “a meal,” would not be complete without some soup, whether miso or
suimono
(clear soup). And generally, some
o-shinko
or
o-tsukemono
(pickles) would be served in small quantities. The other items, which would appear to the Westerner as either entrées or side dishes, are all lumped under a category called
okazu
(basically everything other than the trio of rice, soup, and pickles). This category would be divided based on methods of preparation, such as broiled foods, fried foods, boiled foods, those prepared with vinegar, and so on. In composing a meal, one would generally try to create a dish from each or several of these subdivisions. In this book, most of the chapters feature these subdivisions, and a perusal of them should arm you with several combinations.