Male Bonding in the Kitchen

Shane, who plans to get married this summer, recently realized that if he wants to continue our family's Japanese Sunday breakfast tradition in his own home, he'd better learn how to cook miso soup and tamagoyaki. So he made plans to shadow Hiromi in the kitchen this morning while breakfast preparations were underway. I think he's already got the rice cooking down pat, thanks to the convenience of an electric rice cooker (Soak it ahead of time and let it steam for ten minutes after it's done cooking.).

Hiromi is big on making real ceremonies of such occasions, and I overheard him say "Welcome to Hiromi's Cooking School" when Shane showed up sleepy-eyed. I couldn't see either of them, but I could imagine Hiromi making an elaborate bow, just as he used to do as he welcomed his sons to "Hiromi's Barber Shop" in the past.

"Start by heating plain water--nothing in it. Then put in the Chinese cabbage, onions, and the dried seaweed because they take the longest to cook. Get your green onions chopped." After this was underway, he pulled miso paste, tofu, and bean sprouts out of the refrigerator. "Tofu can go in any time," Hiromi said, deftly cutting it into cubes after draining it, "but I always put in the bean sprouts at the very end, just before the miso paste. We don't cook the soup after the miso paste is added."

"I think I knew that, but why not?" Shane asked.

"I think it's because it's still alive," Hiromi answered.

"You mean the culture is still active?"

"I think so. I always put in plenty of salt. If I don't, I have to add lots more miso paste* to give it a good flavor. That stuff is expensive. I always use aji-no-moto [monosodium glutamate] too. If it gives Dorcas a headache, you'll have to use something else to add flavor. Some people are allergic to it. If you have leftover tofu,** put it back in the fridge with fresh water. Change it several times during the week if you're going to try to save it to use the next Sunday."

"In Japan, they make really simple miso soup--maybe only four pieces of tofu in it and not many vegetables, but we enjoy the vegetables, and the tofu is part of the protein in this meal, so I like to use plenty."

"The green onions go in after you turn off the heat, so they don't lose their flavor." Hiromi finished. "Now for the tamagoyaki."

"I'm going to use only four eggs this morning, but I usually use seven or eight." He broke them into a bowl and whisked them briefly with a fork. "A little sugar and a little salt" he said as he added them. "Here's the secret: Heat the pan good before you put any oil in it. Then heat it again after you add the oil. Be sure to get the oil up the sides so the eggs don't stick there." I knew he was doing the elaborate wrist action maneuvers he always does to turn the pan so the oil coats the sides. The eggs sizzled as he poured them into the pan, and I heard the sounds of the metal spatula as he folded his "omelet" into compact little packages. "You'd be surprised. This just doesn't taste right if you don't put in the right amounts of sugar and salt. Even adding soy sauce at the table doesn't cover up for the lack of salt when you cooked it, and if you don't add the sugar it's too salty."

More than 37 years ago, before Hiromi came to America, he had an epiphany similar to Shane's. He realized that if he wanted to continue to enjoy Japanese foods, he'd better learn to cook them himself. So he took cooking classes, the only male among scores of girls. He learned well and has taught me most of what he knows. I have cooked many a Japanese breakfast for my family, but not on Sunday mornings. Then, I always preferred taking whatever shortcuts I could think of. Getting small children ready for church, starting something for our Sunday noon meal, or cramming for teaching a Sunday School class seemed to make shortcuts a necessity. Hiromi started cooking Sunday breakfasts in self-defense against boxed cereals.

Shane and Grant went through stages of skipping breakfast on Sundays in favor of sleeping longer, and for a while they even turned up their noses a bit at the food. But now, usually whoever gets home from church first ends up sniffing around the kitchen to see if there are any leftovers from breakfast. If so, eating that provides their prelude to Sunday dinner.

Only rarely does it occur to me to ponder the strangeness of this Sunday ritual at our house--a ritual that thankfully has promise of continuing in other homes as our boys establish their own family traditions.

*Miso paste has an appearance similar to grainy peanut butter. It is made from ground soybeans and perhaps other grains, and cultured over a long period of time (months, at least) with a specific bacteria. At the end of that time, it lends a rich, almost meaty, flavor to soups when it's dissolved in the hot liquid.

**Medium tofu is like a soft, bland "cheese" made from soy milk. The milk forms curds when a coagulating agent is added. The curds are then scooped into a mold to be pressed into soft cakes. Firm tofu is pressed more rigorously to expel more of the liquid. Firm tofu is sometimes fried like meat and used in sandwiches, etc. Silken tofu is made differently, almost like the process of using rennet to "jell" milk into a semi-solid smooth substance. All of them combine well with other flavors.