I recently put chalkboard paper on some of my kitchen cabinets to make the kitchen look a little less plain and a little more interesting. A grocery list here, some inspiring quotes regarding food, cooking and the pursuit of happiness there… and at the bottom, a funny little list titled ‘What Would James Eat?’. James is always asking me to make something or other–and while I am always up for the challenge, I tend to lose track of his numerous requests. So I decided to honor his insatiable appetite (and my burgeoning attempts at interesting dishes) by giving him some space in my kitchen for a list.

(What’s on the list, you ask? Homemade pho and Taiwanese beef noodle soup, among other things. But those are other recipes for other entries!)

Magic mushrooms have been on the list since before the list existed, however, and I’m glad I was finally able to deliver with a version all my own.

Magic mushrooms are our favorite appetizer from Hapa Sushi, which is a fusion/nouveau-type sushi restaurant in the Metro Denver area. Whenever we visit Denver, we go to Hapa and order this appetizer without fail. However, it’s been well over half a year since the last time we’ve managed to patronize this sushi joint–so I only had my memories as reference. If you’re a Denver native or you’ve eaten at Hapa before, you’ll have to tell me whether I’ve managed to create a worthy copycat recipe, okay?

I would advise you to make sure you have a nice, sharp knife before attempting to make these; a dull knife won’t be able to create the thin slice necessary for the rolling of the salmon around the avocado. Additionally, this recipe requires vigilance: you can’t really walk away from any of it while it’s cooking. There’s not really much I can offer in the way of a shortcut other than buying the sweet soy sauce (or unagi sauce) at the store instead of making it yourself–but the consistency will be thinner.

Even if these mushrooms taste nothing like the ones at Hapa, I still think they’re pretty damn tasty. You’ll be dismayed at how quickly they disappear relative to the amount of work it takes to make them–but hey, you’ll get credit for being an awesome cook, so all’s well that ends well!

Time for today’s rhetorical question: Who doesn’t love ramen?

Obviously not this girl. The only downside about eating ramen [for me] is my inability to finish an entire bowl. (Damn you, tiny stomach!)

Los Angeles is more or less over-saturated with ramen shops. However, the restaurant that tops the list for me is the Daikokuya branch in Little Tokyo, just east of Downtown Los Angeles. Ever since I first tried a bowl of the extra-fatty broth in April 2009, I have worshiped at its steps. To me, Daikokuya Little Tokyo is the textbook definition of tonkotsu/pork-bone broth ramen. And where the broth is excellent–so goes my allegiance.

Little Tokyo is a bit of a drive from where I live, however, and the constant line in front of its Daikokuya location makes for a very impatient disciple. So for the sake of my own sanity, I usually forego this delectable, artery-clogging treat and reserve it for when visitors arrive.

Then one fateful day…

at a shopping center a mile away from our apartment…

a sign appeared in the window of a ramen shop that had recently closed.

‘Coming soon: DAIKOKUYA’ 

Joy, thy name is Kris! When the Daikokuya on Sawtelle had their soft opening toward the end of July, James and I joyfully (Krisfully? Just kidding, I really need better jokes) made our way to the entrance and strapped ourselves in for a fantastic ride.

So, you ask: how did they do?

Since that first visit, we have been back one other time a few weeks later and my consensus for now is… it’s good, but not great. Since the location is still less than a month old, they do not have the full menu available at the Little Tokyo location yet. The staples of the restaurant are still there, including their flagship item on the menu (ramen) as well as the gyoza, pork belly bowl and fried rice. But they do not currently have an option for ordering the broth kotteri (extra fatty), nor do they have tsukemen or hiyashi chuka. I’m sure that the menu will eventually expand as the store gets its feet wet. Sadly, the main star of the show and the #1 reason I love Daikokuya so much… yes, I’m talking about the broth… it’s missing something. It doesn’t have bite, nor the thick richness that makes the taste so luxurious on the tongue. If anything, the broth at this location tastes faintly of butter. I can’t lie–I was disappointed.

However, due to the proximity of its location and the much shorter wait times (for now), I will happily return to give it a chance in the future. A not-quite-as-good Daikokuya is still better than the rest of the ramen in the area–well, not counting the tsukemen at Tsujita LA, of course. I still think it warrants a try if you haven’t been yet, especially for the creative interior of the restaurant space. They’ve taken the indoor space and renovated it to look and feel like a street corner in Japan, complete with fake signs, a ‘ramen stand’ facade where the kitchen is visible, and a police box where the cash register resides. A mannequin in a police uniform greets you as you first walk into the restaurant–need I say more?

The Bottom Line: a well-known fantastic restaurant offshoot working out its kinks. Still worth a try, especially if you live in West LA like me!

I have a weird addiction that needs to be confessed.

I… really love food from one culture as interpreted by another.

‘What?’ you must be thinking. ‘What does that even mean? Is she talking about fusion?’

I am–sort of. To clarify, I really love a culture’s take on a food that isn’t indigenous to their own country. The easiest example is Americanized Chinese food. Sticky-sweet, tangy orange chicken is definitely not authentic; it was created to satiate American palettes. On the flip side, when I was in Taiwan a few years ago I had a burger made with shredded beef and buns made of compacted sticky rice. Every country has its own take on ‘international’ cuisine, and although I usually prioritize eating the authentic local offerings… I always try something out of left field at least once, just to see how tastes differ around the globe. I’ve eaten Chinese “spaghetti” in Italy, and ‘authentic Chinese’ in the Philippines. Burgers in Monaco, lasagna in Mexico. Pizza in Taiwan. Sometimes I love it, and sometimes I want to hurl. (I’m looking at you, ‘seafood delight’ pizza in Taiwan…) But I think the way a certain dish tastes in a certain country gives away a lot of the popular tastes and preferences in that country–and that’s why I ultimately find it fun and rewarding.

Today’s recipe is a Japanese take on a very authentic and famous Chinese Szechuan dish–mapo tofu (麻婆豆腐), or as it’s known in Japan:  Mabo Tofu (マーボー豆腐). The ingredients are unmistakably Japanese, and yet the flavor is very reminiscent of the original dish–minus the tongue-numbing Szechuan peppercorns, of course. Having made both, I have to admit that I prefer the Japanese take on the dish… but this is primarily because I have a lower tolerance for heat and therefore cannot appreciate the Szechuan version as well. The dish comes together very quickly and easily, as do most stir-fry dishes; the most laborious aspect of this recipe is the prep work involved prior to tossing everything in the wok.

My nesting bowls have been indispensable to me as I’ve continued to stir-fry more Asian dishes–I simply place each individual ingredient in a small nesting bowl and set it by the stove so that I can toss everything in rather quickly; a ‘mis-en-place’ if you will. When you are working with a wok cranked up to high heat, having everything you need at your fingertips is the difference between a savory dinner and unidentifiable black stuff stuck to the bottom of the pan (with your smoke alarm screeching in the background).

It sounds like I’ve speaking from experience, you say? Now what would give you that idea? ….haha.

The pictures I’ve included here contain ground pork instead of ground turkey, but if you’re looking to go a healthier route–I’ve made this recipe with both and both taste spectacular. (James prefers the turkey, actually, because it is more bland and carries the flavor of the sauce quite well.) I’ve made a few changes from the recipe linked below; namely, I’ve added double amounts of ginger and garlic, a larger amount of tobanjan, and a few drizzles of chili sesame oil onto the finished plate for an extra savory kick. This dish tastes delicious as a leftover and can be served over both steamed rice or quinoa–I especially love it with quinoa, which gives this soft dish a neat, grainy crunch with each bite.

One last thing–if this is your first foray into more authentic Japanese/Chinese cuisine, you may not be familiar with tobanjan, or chili bean sauce. This is THE ingredient that must not be substituted and makes mapo tofu what it is, regardless of what take on it you prefer. Most grocery stores have an Asian section that carries Lee Kum Kee brand sauces; if you do not have an Asian grocery store at your dispense I would check this section for tobanjan (looks like this, Amazon link). I think everything else has become mainstream enough for it to be fairly easy to find. Good luck!

Recipe adapted from No Recipes.

Once upon a blue moon (or, two years ago when I lived in Denver), I borrowed a few cookbooks about Korean and Japanese cuisine from my sister-in-law. A miso glaze caught my eye while flipping through the Japanese cookbook—I used it on some salmon steaks and it got rave reviews from a close friend and my husband. And normally, when I obtain recipes online, I usually bookmark them so I can access them or credit them later. But since I used a physical book and not the internet, I figured that I would have the book around, just in case I wanted to make the glaze again.

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Unfortunately, when I moved to Los Angeles I completely forgot about the recipe—I gave the books back to my sister-in-law without a second thought. And when I was finally ready to make the glaze again, I kept drawing a blank. I couldn’t remember the name or the ingredients, other than miso (duh), an egg yolk, and sugar. I tried replicating it a few times with minimal success. I looked it up online and only found recipes for miso marinades or recommendations to slather the miso onto the filets straight from the container. It was extremely frustrating!

Finally, I decided to try looking the recipe up by listing a few ingredients in Japanese and I hit the jackpot; I found not only the recipe, but the cover of the book staring at me from the screen. So I hope you enjoy this recipe as much as I do—it isn’t restricted to salmon filets, but can be used on other grilled/broiled vegetables as well. (I highly suggest eggplant—in fact, tama-miso glazed eggplant is a popular izakaya dish.)

So, before I get into the nitty-gritty—I should note that this recipe is a little persnickety. I have tried dumping all of the ingredients in together before double-boiling as well as gone step by step, and in order to get the silky-soft consistency that we’re looking for in the glaze, you need to follow the directions in order. Also, be warned that you will be standing over the double-boiler continuously stirring the glaze for at least 6-8 minutes. This isn’t something you can walk away from. But the resulting consistency and flavor are well worth it: a lightly-caramelized glaze, with the flavor but not the normal grainy texture of miso—with a hint of sake, just enough to heighten the umami of the bite. Paired with a flaky, juicy salmon filet with a lightly salted crisp skin and you’re smiling after each bite.

Tama-miso recipe adapted from The Japanese Kitchen by Hiroko Shimbo.