Easy Pan-fried Gyoza Pancake 簡単餃子のパンケーキ

A couple of weeks ago I posted about how to make Japanese gyoza dumplings from scratch (http://okonoms.blogspot.com/2012/08/japanese-pan-fried-gyoza.html). The purist in me goes in that direction every now and then, where the idea of convenience and time-management fly out the window and I want to make gyoza that are truly and unequivocally homemade. On the other extreme, there is the why-bother-with-all-the-trouble attitude that I more often get into - I want the gyoza now now now and I'm staaaaaaarving for dinner. So... here is my answer to that!

This is the savory gyoza pancake. No individual wrapping, no individual pan frying. This is one, big, juicy gyoza saucer, straight from the frying pan to the table.

To start, I make all of the stuffing for the gyoza as I would with regular gyoza (see my prior posting with all of the ingredients). Ok, I set that bowl full of stuffing aside.

I grab a big plate. I place my store-bought gyoza wrappers on the plate in a flower pattern. 

In the center, I place one last gyoza wrapper. I add a little moisture to each of the wrappers by wetting them with some potato starch water (a small amount of starch dissolved in a few tablespoons water).

Instead of store-bought wrappers, could I instead make the wrappers from scratch? Absolutely. But then it'd be too much time and trouble for my poor, starving stomach. We'll leave that option for another day.

Next, I plop all of my stuffing at once on top of the starch-moist wrappers. Gently, so that I don't move around the wrappers underneath, I spread and smear the stuffing across nearly the entire surface of the wrappers, leaving a little on the end open like if I were putting toppings on a pizza.

Over the top of my stuffing, I add another layer of my gyoza wrappers in a flower pattern, identical to the bottom layer, adding a little moisture to the wrappers as I go.

Now, into the big frying pan. I've made my gyoza "pancake" the size of a big plate but made sure that it also fits neatly into my biggest frying pan. I heat up some sesame oil and vegetable oil on the bottom of the pan. This oil is important because it'll get my gyoza crispy and beautifully browned together on that side.

I can hear it sizzling. I let it brown for about 5 minutes on medium heat, lifting it up slightly towards the end to check that it's nicely browned. It comes off the pan, onto a plate momentarily. I add a little more oil to the pan and let that warm up.

I then put the pancake back onto the pan, with the browned side up. Time for the top to brown on the bottom! I let that go for a couple of minutes, and then in the fine fashion of all good steamed gyozas, I add a couple of tablespoons of water to the pan and quickly cover it tightly with a lid. Now I can hear the water dancing around with the oil inside, steaming the gyoza pancake. When the sounds subside, I open the lid and take a peek to see how it's looking. I check if the bottom is nicely browned.

Ah, it's purrrtty. I cut it like a pizza, grab a slice, dip it in the soy sauce-vinegar dipping sauce (with hot sesame chili oil too, since I love spice) and nom nom nom it! Dinner is ready in a flash. Often eaten with white rice on the side.

Wasabi Lobster Terrine わさびとロブスターのテリーヌ

If there is one dish that is a constant favorite at the parties I host, it is certainly this one. And once you get past the lobster preparing part, it is easy! Not to mention you can make it way ahead of the party so no rushing around in the hours before the party starts. Without any further ado, let me jump right into it.

• 1 c light cream 生クリーム
• 1 1/2 tsp powdered gelatin ゼラチン
• 3 Tbsp hot water お湯
• 2 tsp wasabi (powdered, but paste is ok too) 山葵
• 1 live lobster ロブスター
• 1 tsp olive oil  オリーブオイル
• 2 Tbsp cognac コニャック

Ergh, live lobster? That's kinda what I said first time I looked at this one. I've witnessed this wee bit daunting and queasy-ish task before, when growing up. But I figured if mom and dad could do it, then so could I. Making this recipe was the first time as an adult that I was on my own with the crustacean, and I had to come to terms with the lobster assassination I was about to do. So off to YouTube I went to figure out what I was going to be doing!

After a tiny bit of investigation, I'd say that "dispatching" the lobster is the way to go. That's when you take a sharp knife and end the lobster's misery in one fell swoop, rather than boiling or steaming them to death. Hey, if I were to go, I would want it to be swift.

For this recipe, I ask for the smallest lobster there is. The thing is, this dish doesn't need a whole lot of lobster but boy does the dish go a long way at a party!

Here, my lobster is just over 1 1/2 pounds, which I can get away with purchasing at usually somewhere under $20. Just before I dispatch it, I give it a quick rinse. For a strange reason, I've always had the urge to take those rubber bands off of the lobster - it looks so constraining - but wait, I can't empathize with the thing, I am going to be its demise. Plus, I'd be in trouble if those bands came off too early!

I get my sharp but thickest, heaviest knife for the job. The Wusthof all-purpose chef's knife. I steer away from Japanese knives for the occasion because although I know in my head that German knives as a general rule are softer bladed and Japanese knives are harder bladed, I'm feeling somewhere viscerally that the Japanese knife will break or chip if I cut into that hard shell with it. There's nothing scientific about my analysis, by the way.

When the deed is done, I clean (remove liver and head sac) and then split my lobster into four pieces: 2 claws, and then the length of the body, split vertically down the center. Into a pan it goes.

I add just a small teaspoon of olive oil to the pan, then set it on about medium heat. Let it go for a minute or two, and it'll already start turning a brighter red from the cooking. Now for the cognac. I add the cognac to the pan (some say remove from heat before pouring alcohol into the pan). With one of those long-necked lighters, I set the cognac alight. Did I mention that the cognac does wonders? It not only adds aroma but all arrows point to the umami wallop that the cognac and lobster combo creates.

Already, I can smell the lobster and the cognac marrying together into a fragrant melody. Once the flame goes out, I cover the pan with a lid and close it tightly. A few minutes like that and I take a peek. Done? Looks pretty red to me. My lobster comes off the heat and is allowed to cool down before I try to get at the meat.

While that's cooling, I take a few tablespoons of the cream and add the powdered gelatin to it to allow the gelatin to bloom. I also add the powdered wasabi. The rest of the cream gets poured into a small saucepan to heat up, just short of a boil. Once the cream is nice and hot, the gelatin mix goes in. If I'm using a wasabi paste, I make sure that the paste is broken up and mixed into the cream as well as I can get it before adding to the saucepan. Mix, mix, mix! I make sure all of the gelatin is dissolved. At this point, it's off the heat. If the gelatin's having a hard time dissolving, I'll put it back on the heat again (but not to let it boil).

Remove all the meat from the lobster. This is seriously a lot of meat! All of this with just a cup of cream? I chop it up into about 1/2" pieces so it's easy to scoop out of the terrine later.

Sometimes I make "terrine shots" and that's when I make individual terrines in 2 oz. shot glasses. Or I use square or circular ramekins to create a more traditional terrine where you mold the thing and then get the terrine to pop out of the mold by turning it upside down. Whatever floats my boat that day.

I place the lobster pieces in the mold (shot glasses or ramekins) and pour the warm cream over it. Into the fridge they go for a few hours.

And then, voila! You have an amazing dish with which to wow your party guests.

Japanese pan-fried gyoza 餃子

Growing up, ever since I was in grade school, I helped my mom wrap gyoza stuffing in its wrappers for a weeknight dinner. This here is the traditional recipe for pork gyoza. For the new, trendy way to cook gyoza, check out my next blog post (8/14)!

Perfectly steamed on the inside, crispy browned on the outside. That's the perfect gyoza dumpling.

Rarely, do I ever make wrappers from scratch. Is it worth it? Hm, it's a bit like wondering if making pie crust from scratch is worth it. If you've never had it, you'd ask why go through the trouble? (Even Ina says go with a ready-made crust.) If you're a purist, you wouldn't have it any other way. Either way, you can decide. These wrappers can be purchased at an Asian market, or these days, depending on your neighborhood demographics, even at Whole Foods.

Ingredients for making the wrapper:

• 140 g cake flour 薄力粉
• 70 mL water, lukewarm at 40 degrees C/104 degrees F 水
• potato starch 片栗粉

I mix the cake flour and water together in a small bowl. It starts to clump together, eventually into a sticky ball. If I pinch a small piece of it, it feels like... well, it feels like if you were to pinch your ear lobe, gummy but soft - then I know it's ready. I wrap it up and chill it in the fridge for a half hour to an hour. 

Napa cabbage

Ingredients for the stuffing:

• 200 g ground pork (just under 1/2 pound of pork) 豚肉
• 300 g napa cabbage (about 3 big leaves) 白菜
• 3 Tbsp scallion or preferably nira ニラ
• 2 tsp fresh ginger, minced or finely chopped 生姜
• 1 tsp salt 塩
• 2 Tbsp soy sauce 醤油
• 1 tsp garlic, minced にんにく
• 1 Tbsp sake (rice wine) 酒
• 1 Tbsp cooking oil 野菜油 
• 2 Tbsp sesame oil  ごま油

Don't have napa cabbage? Common green cabbage is an ok substitute. In fact, I almost never follow exactly the recipe for the stuffing. That's the fantastic part about these stuffed goodies.

 

A few Napa cabbage leaves, chopped

I'll replace nira with scallion, add some of this, subtract some of that... The important parts of the stuffing is that (1) I want an ingredient like an oily ground meat that binds the stuff together; (2) ingredients like napa cabbage are the perfect veggie when the inside of the wrapper gets steamed - the cabbage becomes sweeter and imparts moisture inside the wrapper for that juicy texture when you bite into the dumpling; (3) zest! Don't lose the condiments, including the fresh ginger. The combination of sesame oil, sake, soy sauce and ginger in this stuffing is unmistakably the signature taste.

Ok and one last argument, for the sake. When the pork and sake hit each other, it's like... wham! In Japanese, the taste that the sake unleashes in the pork is called umami 旨味. I don't remember ever a time my mom skipped out on the sake when she cooked pork. It's a beautiful marriage.

Once all the ingredients are in a bowl, I mush it together.

A good mixing makes sure that each dumpling will have all of the tastes stuffed inside it.

Back to the wrappers. . .

My wrapping dough comes out of the fridge, onto the board. I get lots of starch ready cuz I'm going to need it.

I roll the entire ball of dough into a long log. It's about the same thickness as if you were rolling out a pretzel, maybe an inch in diameter. Once that's done, I cut off a small piece (maybe 1" x 1") and that's going to be one wrapper!

The small piece of dough turns into the first wrapper. I first whack it with the palm of my hand, then I gently roll it out with a small roller (here, I'm using an "udon" rolling pin). You know what, no one ever said that it has to be a perfect circle. Perfect is no fun, anyhow. So my wrappers are all "mostly" circular. I like to make all of my wrappers before moving onto stuffing them. Stuffing the wrappers can be a messy affair and I prefer an orderly process.

Before I start, I grab a small bowl of water for wetting the tip of my finger. More on that in a bit.

Just a teaspoonful of stuffing goes into the center of the wrapper. It's easiest to start with the wrapper in the palm of your hand (I'm a righty so it's in my left hand). Once the stuffing's on board, I take a little bit of water from the small bowl. I only need to wet the tip of my index finger to get half of the outer rim of my wrapper moist.

Next, the goal is to fold the dumpling in half with the stuffing in the middle. Closing the palm of my hand half way to help the folding, I use my right hand to lift the bottom half of the wrapper toward the top half. As I do, I start putting little creases into the edge of the wrapper so that it closes with a fluted edge. It looks like a pleated skirt when it's all folded up.





If I'm not making homemade wrappers on an occasion, I make sure that in my small bowl of water, I add a little bit (1/2 tsp) of starch so that the starch helps hold the wrapper closed.

To the left, my homemade wrappers stuffed with the pork stuffing. Below, these are store-bought wrappers filled with the same pork stuffing. Yes, I know, the store bought ones are perrrrrfect and beautiful, compared to the homemade. Let's just say that homemade is intended to have that rustic feel.


Is it time to eat yet? Let's get these onto the frying pan!

I heat up the pan with some cooking oil. I want a non-flavorful oil like a basic vegetable oil or one of those lower-cost olive oils (the more expensive / EVOOs tend to be more flavorful so I want to avoid that).

My gyoza dumplings go on the frying pan in batches of three or four right next to each other. Don't ask me why... it just is done that way. They're always served kind of stuck together. It's like there's something weird about gyoza if they aren't connected. Anyway, it makes them flippable in batches and that makes it easier.

The heat's right about at medium on the pan.

A few minutes of browning on one side and then they get flipped. I did promise earlier that they are crispy on the outside, steamy-juicy on the inside. Here's the trick.

Once they're flipped over, I add a small amount of water (a couple of tablespoons to the pan) and cover the pan with a lid. Immediately, the steam starts screaming out of the sides of the lid and I can hear the water and oil dancing around inside.

It's another good few minutes. When the steam coming out of the sides of the pan lid subsides and there's not much sound emanating from the pan, I know the steaming is complete.

As I remove the lid, there's a little bit of water still trying to make its escape. I let it continue to cook so that all of the water is evaporated and to get a crispy bottom on my gyozas.

All that work is about to pay off.

I grab my soy sauce, rice vinegar and hot sesame oil (this is rayu ラー油, a bit different from the sesame oil I used in the stuffing) and mix it in a small dish. I have friends who've gone their entire lives using only soy sauce and vinegar in their dipping sauces. But if you're a spice-lover like me, the rayu is a must-have. These days you can find rayu with pepper flakes in it. If not, I grab the shichimi (7-spice pepper) and give it a few shakes.

The hot, crispy, gyoza dumplings go into the dipping sauce... and into my mouth.

Homemade Japanese Cold Udon Noodles 手打ちうどん

For many years I've gone to the local store and purchased the dry udon noodles, boiled them, and ate them as the default home-cooked version of this traditional Japanese dish. But have you tried real, fresh made udon? Years ago when I visited a place called Sanuki さぬき on the island of Shikoku 四国 in Japan (sure seemed like quite a mystical place, all densely foggy and sparsely populated), I had the pleasure. The region is famous for udon noodles, and tourists (Japanese that is) from all over the country make pilgrimage to this region to try the amazing noodles there. I can't claim to make any such thing, but on this recent occasion, I made my own homemade fresh udon noodles. Once I tried this recipe, I can never look at those prepackaged things the same again.

Ingredients:

• 250g cake flour 薄力粉
• 250g bread flour 強力粉
• 225g water 水
• 25g salt 塩
• potato starch, for rolling out the dough 片栗粉

The idea here is that I want to make these noodles out of a type of flour called 中力粉, which it turns out there's no English translation for this word because it just isn't sold this way elsewhere. It means a medium amount of gluten flour - so, best way to substitute, as my friendly local Japanese supermarket store clerk suggested, is to mix half cake flour and half bread flour. 

I take a gallon size Ziploc bag and combine all the ingredients in it. Lightly knead it with my fingers to spread the water evenly through the dry ingredients. After that, it rests for about an hour. (Don't rush a good noodle!)

Have you ever made fresh pasta without a pasta machine? It is hard work! Well, guess what... so is kneading the dough for udon. I may even say it's even tougher than pasta! What a pain you say, and so do I. So here's an easy workaround and a sure-fire way to give these noodles the proper massaging they need for a beautiful result. 

I seal the Ziploc bag after getting rid of most of the air inside it, then take two other plastic bags, like shopping bags, and place the Ziploc inside 'em. Now, I drop the dough on the floor (preferably a hardwood or other hard surface) and step on it. That's right, grab the side of the counter, put one foot on it and then the other and start kneading the dough feet-wise. Oh, bare feet, by the way! (Japanese style, all the way.) When the dough is flat like a pancake under my feet, which takes a few gentle but firm stomps, I take the Ziploc out of the other shopping bags, and adjust the dough inside the Ziploc (no need to open up the Ziploc). Roll the dough back up into a ball. Repeat several times, about 6 times total. Soon enough, it's starting to feel smoother under my feet. The extra plastic bags are there just in case my dough tries to make a run for it and breaks the Ziploc - or just to keep my curious dogs out of my precious loot! 

Or I suppose if you do have a pasta machine, then try that out - but I make no guarantees - my foot-massaged udon came out perfect. Once I'm done with the kneading, I let the dough rest another hour. Patience, Daniel-san. 

Finally, the dough is ready for more handling! I sprinkle a large board generously with starch. Removed the dough from the Ziploc and rolled it out in a single, thin layer on the board. 

The rolled-out dough is barely 2mm in thickness (just under a 1/4 inch) now. It will feel silky smooth. It is gorgeous at this point!  

Next, generously - did I mention generously? - I spread more starch on both sides of the rolled-out dough. I'm about to fold the dough so that I can cut it. I fold the dough back and forth, on top of itself, so that from the side the dough looks like a zigzagging windy road. The folding ensures a relatively even cut through each noodle.

Again, super important to have used plenty of starch to keep the dough from sticking! Now I take my big, sharp knife and, using long, broad strokes, cut the dough into strips. I was at first tempted to cut them thick, but here's a heads up that when these puppies are boiled, they'll expand considerably. So I err on the side of cutting them thinner than I think is necessary. I shoot for around 2 mm thickness (again, just under 1/4 inch) but they end up a bit more like 3 mm. Alas. 

When I've cut all of it up, there's no more waiting left! It's time to drop 'em into the boiling water. 

I heat several quarts of water in a large stock pot until it begins to boil. (No salt needed.) 

As I drop the noodles into the water, I loosen the noodles apart with my fingers. My beautiful noodles start dancing around in the pot. I can almost taste them now~!

Alright, in the meantime, we need some sauce. Here, I'm making cold noodles, which are dipped in a soy-based dip with garnishes. 

Dipping sauce ingredients: 

• 2 parts soy sauce 　しょう油
• 1 part mirin　味醂
• pinch of sugar　砂糖

I mix these three ingredients in a small saucepan and heat till they're almost boiling. Honestly, the proportion doesn't matter so much, it just needs to be slightly sweet, mostly soy-salty. Once it's warm, I cool it down and dilute it with an equal amount, or slightly more, of water. Since I'm making this dish for a party of 3, I make sure I have about 1/2 cup per person (after diluting with water).

Ok, are my noodles done?! I keep an eye on it because I want it to be p-e-r-f-e-c-t. The greatest thing about homemade udon noodles is that when they're done, they are a soft but firm, gummy-al-dente goodness.

As soon as they come out of the boiling water (just 5 to 7 minutes), I drop them into a cold bowl of water with a bunch of ice cubes in it. Noodles, stop your cooking!

Then, I arrange my garnishes/condiments:

• minced fresh ginger (peel the ginger, first)　生姜
• finely chopped scallions　ねぎ
• nori cut in short, thin strips (this is dried sea vegetable)　のり
• minced daikon radish　大根
• wasabi paste　わさび

I set these condiments on the table for everyone to add to their noodle bowls. Um, it might be overkill to add all of them at once, but I do and it is oh so nomlicious.

I like to serve the noodles family style. After all, I'm just serving my family. :) A big bowl full of noodles in the center of the table, with everyone having a small bowl to hold their dipping sauce and garnishes. Mix all the stuff together and slurp slurp slurp!!! So yummeh.

Oh, one more thing, for even the most seasoned chopstick-user, these noodles are slippery. So make sure you've got good grab on those chopsticks! (Or I guess... use a fork...?)　いただきま～す！<3