Okonomiyaki – The Cake of Many Likes

To put it simply, okonomiyaki is a savory pancake of happiness. It’s very name, okonomiyaki, means “whatever you like” (okonomi) and “cook” (yaki). It is also easy to make and packed with umami, the savory tastiness that’s bound to make the most hardened eaters crack a smile. Just between you and me, it’s a great way to clear out the fridge.

Click here for recipe: https://www.ourkitchenroots.com/recipe/okonomiyaki/

There are three components to this pancake: The batter, filling and topping.

The batter comprises all-purpose flour and, traditionally, grated nagaimo, a type of Japanese yam. When grated, the yam is turns into slimy goo, not exactly a very convenient procedure. For that reason, my recipe uses potato starch to approximate the grated nagaimo. You could also buy prepared okonomiyaki flour from the specialty market for added convenience.

Dashi is a Japanese stock made with ingredients from the sea: konbu (sea kelp) and katsuobushi (bonito/tuna flakes). The steeped liquid is packed with umami and essential to okonomiyaki. We’re using dashi in the batter instead of water. For convenience, you can purchase instant dashi granules (picture below) and just add water.

The filling is where the fun is. Tradition calls for chopped cabbage, tenkasu (tempura scraps to add lightness and texture) and beni shoga (pickled red ginger). If you don’t have tenkasu, you could substitute with panko bread crumbs.

Beni shoga is a must in my book but if you’d rather leave it out, that’s okay too. The ginger is pickled in umezu, the salty and sour pickling liquid used in umeboshi (plum) pickling. It’s very different from gari, the pickled ginger used to accompany sushi and sashimi. Gari looks pink and tastes sweeter compared to beni shoga.

Anything and everything else is fair game! I’ve chosen to use fresh shitake mushroom in my recipe but, really, you could throw in sliced pork belly, shrimp, cheese and just about anything else you like. That’s what this pancake is about — all your favorite things.

Once cooked, you can top the pancake with all kinds of fun things. Okonomiyaki sauce is a must! You could approximate it with a blend of tomato ketchup, soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce and molasses, but in this case, I’d recommend just buying it off-the-shelf.

The next must-have topping is Kewpie mayonnaise. This Japanese mayonnaise has become a bit of a cult-favorite among chefs for good reason: It’s thicker, creamier and tastier than its American counterpart. Why you ask? It uses egg yolk — hence, the custardy quality — and it contains MSG. Yes, MSG, that ingredient that makes everything taste better!

I’ve added sliced green onions for the aromatics and katsuobushi for an extra kick of umami to the toppings. Something else that’s fun to watch when you add the very thin shavings of katsuobushi — the flakes appear to be dancing! (Video below.) Not to worry, there’s nothing alive on the plate. The super light, tissue-like flakes are simply moving to the heat from the okonomiyaki. If the katsuobushi is too “fishy” for you, feel free to omit it and sprinkle toasted sesame seeds instead. Or you could even top with crispy fried shallots if you like. Remember, this dish is all about what you like.

The real finishing touch is to enjoy okonomiyaki with people you love. It’s bound to trigger uncontrolled happiness all around.

The Divine Lady of Mid-Autumn Festival

Instead of looking for the man in the moon, try looking for the lady the next time the moon is full. According to Chinese legend, the beautiful and divine lady Chang’e (pronounced chung-er), dwells on the moon, forever pining for her beloved husband on Earth.

When the Chinese community celebrates the Mid-Autumn Festival on Sep. 13, offerings of mooncakes and fresh fruit will be made under the night sky to Chang’e. Sometimes known as the Mooncake or simply, Moon Festival, the Mid-Autumn Festival is the second-largest celebration in the Chinese culture, behind only Chinese New Year.

The Mid-Autumn Festival comes a little earlier this year — on Sep. 13 (it was Sep. 24 last year). But on the Chinese lunar calendar, it’s always on the 15th day of the 8th moon. The day just doesn’t always correspond to the more widely used Gregorian calendar.

The Chinese lunar calendar calls for a full moon onSep. 13. Barring any clouds, you’ll see the lunar calendar is always spot on! All around the world, moon-gazing is the activity of choice. The roundness of the moon symbolizes the completeness of family. Family members near and far reunite for dinner, then step outdoors to continue the celebration. The night is illuminated with paper lanterns – both hung outdoors as well as hand-carried ones.

Go ahead, visit your favorite Asian bakery and stock up on the countless varieties of mooncakes. Or make your own: Doll Mooncake Recipe.

Most importantly, enjoy the moment with your loved ones. Happy moon-gazing!

Pho Lang Thang Goes Big

Say “Pho Lang Thang” and many Cincinnatians will likely want to whisk out their chopsticks and make slurping noises. Pho Lang Thang, arguably Cincinnati’s most famous Vietnamese restaurant, opens at their new location today at 1828 Race St. — just around the corner from their original space at Findlay Market. Pho Lang Thang is ingrained in the urban core’s story of revitalization, even securing a spot on Food Network’s “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” in 2014.

Pho Lang Thang’s founders, David Le, and brothers, Duy Nguyen and Bao Nguyen, are second generation Vietnamese-Americans who were born and raised in Cincinnati. Determined to make their beloved hometown a place they want to be around, they decided to open a pho shop. “We wanted a pho shop to hang out at so we opened one,” Le once very simply said. In October 2010, the trio opened Pho Lang Thang at Findlay Market.

“Lang thang” sums up an attitude of not taking things – anything – too seriously. When they were kids, their concerned parents would fuss at them for being “lang thang.” Perhaps, as a playful homage to their parents, the group named themselves, the Lang Thang Group.

The business group has since expanded to include Danny Yant and Mike Dew.

L to R: Danny Yant, Duy Nguyen, Mike Dew, Bao Nguyen. (Not shown: David Le.)

The new location has been in the works for over a year and projects 1970s Vietnam, from the unabashed floral motif on the wall to bold, colorful wallpaper in the bathroom that resembles patterned tiles. “It reflects the time when our parents came to this country,” Duy explained.

The space is about three times bigger than the original location, and comes with a roomy bar — amply hosting the Vietnamese notion of “drinking and eating go hand-in-hand.” According to the press release, “customers will be treated to new ‘drinking food’ items specifically tailored to pair with a full cocktail menu, carefully selected wines, 10 draft beers with an extensive can and bottle selection.”

The availability of the full bar is pending the transfer of the liquor license from the old location. The Lang Thang group plans to hold a special event to open the full bar when the transfer is complete.

Perhaps the best indication of how the restaurant has grown is in a room hidden from view. Tucked away in the back of the house, three 60-gallon steam-jacketed kettles work overtime to produce stock for pho. Depending on the type of stock, each batch could take up to 24 or 48 hours. These industrial-scale kettles are a veritable cue how far the restaurant has come. Gone are the days of simply only using stock pots to prepare the soup for pho.

All the favorites from the original menu will transfer over to the new, expanded menu which includes Vietnamese iced coffee on draft, and specialty soda drinks. The new Pho Lang Thang will soon have a quick-service walkup nook for carryout lunch and dinner. The group is also planning to add a lounge and event space in the basement sometime in the future.

Clockwise: Goi Bap Cai Ga (poached chicken salad served in an edible “cracker bowl”), Cha Gio (fried spring rolls), Pho Bo (beef rice noodle soup with rare steak and brisket)

Pho Lang Thang will eventually open seven days a week but for the next few months, they will be closed on Mondays for kitchen training and dinner menu development.

Pho Lang Thang
Website: https://www.pholangthang.com

1828 Race St. Cincinnati, OH 45202; 513-376-9177

HOURS (initial)
SUN, TUE – THU 11:00 am – 10:00 pm; FRI – SAT 11:00 am – 10:00 pm
MON Closed

Jackson Rouse comes full circle with cuisine

Chef Jackson Rouse at Bauer European Farm Kitchen

After cooking for 25 years, Chef Jackson Rouse has arrived. The praise and acclaim that rush up to him these days could well sweep any chef off their feet but not Rouse. His feet are firmly planted on the ground—rooted, you might say.

“I want to bring a voice to the heritage here,” says Rouse, referring to Cincinnati’s German roots. In so doing, Rouse, who was raised in a German-American household, is also on a journey of his own. “I’ve done every kind of cuisine but I haven’t done anything that’s my own,” he adds. “This is me reflecting on my own roots.

Rouse has cured, fermented, pickled and cooked locally sourced bounties to a spot in Cincinnati Magazines’ Top Ten Restaurants 2019. At Bauer European Farm Kitchen, Rouse is a masterful whisperer of cuisines—German, French and even Eastern European—creating his own balanced, rustic cuisine with a German soul.

It’s a soul that harkens back to his great grandmother who emigrated from Germany. “When she came to this country, she was given a cookbook that taught new immigrants the new way to cook…these are now the ingredients you can get in America,” Rouse explains.

Photo provided by Rouse: The cookbook given to Rouse’s great grandmother when she emigrated from Germany

Rouse grew up in Burlington, Kentucky, in a rural farming community where he spent much of his childhood hunting, fishing and foraging. Rouse also worked in his family’s grocery store—stocked with many locally prepared foods—fostering his affinity for locally grown food and how he now cooks at Bauer.

There’s little doubt about his parents’ German lineage, but as for his own, he’s not sure.

“Here’s the thing…I’m adopted. I don’t really know where I came from,” Rouse reveals. “But with my mom’s maiden name being ‘Flick’ and my father’s being ‘Rouse,’ that’s very, very German.”

Rouse says he was adopted through a Catholic social service and aside from “three paragraphs” worth of paper work about the agency, he’s pretty much in the dark. This is where his personal journey gets interesting.

“Judging by my physique, I’m going to go with somewhere in Eastern Europe,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m just going to roll the dice and think I’m playing the right card there.”

You could say Rouse made a choice about his own roots. He’s adopted his German heritage—from his parents and the city of Cincinnati.

“I need to understand who I am as a cook and chef,” says Rouse. “That really came to light when I had my own family, my own kids.” Rouse has a seven-year-old, four-year-old and six-month-old.

“If I’m going to cook, it has to come from something more than what’s trending,” he adds. “Why not make what you cook a trend…put your neck out, you know, push it a little bit.”

Rouse is certainly no stranger to testing the boundaries of cuisine and, not surprisingly, he initially encountered strong headwind to his expression of German cuisine at Bauer.

“I would have people who wouldn’t even come in here because the spelling (on the menu) wasn’t the way they thought it should be,” Rouse recounts. “That’s the thing about pushing food farther. You get that resistance… but it makes you work harder.”

But Rouse knew he had something which fueled his determination to tell his story—in food. “If I put down really good roots with this, I can do the same thing with my family,” he says. “I want my kids to be able to say, ‘Dad really came up with something, persevered, and good things happened.’”

Rouse has brought Cincinnati’s German heritage to the modern-day table and, in the process, come full circle on his personal journey. This baron of cuisine is far from writing the last chapter but, in embracing his roots, Rouse is home.

Tea Eggs (茶叶蛋) and School Days

Born and raised in Guiyang, the capital of Guizhou province in Southwest China, Ling Peng stands in her kitchen in Cincinnati, Ohio and gazes at the tea eggs on the countertop. The eggs are hard boiled and distinctively marbled, much like a webbed veil.

Tea eggs marbled with tea-infused flavor

“I used to eat this in my school days,” she says. “I was maybe in fourth or fifth grade.”

She recalls her route to school, about a 20-minute walk on Qian Ling Street (黔灵西路). Ling vividly remembers the billowing steam from the open woks on the streetside, keeping the tea eggs warm . “This is a common street food,” she adds.

These tea eggs are not only flavorful — smoky, savory, and with a hint of sweet spice from having steeped in a tea-based liquid — they are also very affordable. Ling says the eggs were only a penny each in her time — in the late 1960s.

She used to buy an egg on her way to school — and sometimes on her way home — and peel the cracked shell to get to the flavor-veined snack inside. Ling is not quite sure how the “cracked” motif started in China but notes how prevalent and in vogue this look is. She quickly brings out a pair of petite tea cups bearing this very recognizable look.

Petite tea cups (forefront) bearing a smiliar “cracked” motif as the tea eggs

“Do you see?” she queries.

Ling is determined to delve into the history of this design but in the meantime, she shares her recipe for tea eggs. And in so doing, a little bit of her childhood.

Ling presenting a pair of tea eggs — one peeled and one still in shell

Click here for the recipe: Tea Eggs Recipe

Vietnamese Coffee and its Percolating Culture

Culture is a living, changing thing. I was reminded of it when I read Asian Food Fest’s post about Vietnamese coffee. Author, Ha Dinh, captures Vietnamese-American, Duy Nguyen’s cultural and generational attitudes —  over coffee, naturally.

Coffee Delivery at Pho Lang Thang at Findlay Market (courtesy Pho Lang Thang)

Though he was born in America, one of Duy’s favorite experiences was in a very casual coffee shop across from a river in Saigon. People of all ages would sit around low tables and low chairs, enjoying long conversations and one coffee (or one cigarette) after another. For Duy, this represents the “Lang Thang” lifestyle his restaurant is named after. “Older generations believe in following one direction, while younger generations have our own way,” said Duy.

Read more: A Sip of 100 Years

 

Colombian Tamales for Lunch

“It feels like Sunday mornings,” she said, her eyes smiling and looking at the tamal in front of her.

This is what the tamal does to my friend – it transports her to her childhood in Bogota, Colombia. I was just happy to be there on a Tuesday afternoon to get some of that homemade tamales she offered to share with me.

Ximena (pronounced hee-meh-na) offered to share homemade tamales her Colombian friend made with (lucky) me for lunch. Namely, tamales Tolimenses (from the Tolima region in Colombia).

Unlike Mexican tamales wrapped in corn husk, this tamal was wrapped in plantain leaves which imparted a smoky-leafy flavor to the masa (corn filling). The bundle was then wrapped in aluminum foil for reinforcement.

The visible ingredients in the bundle were: chicken, beef, pork (rib meat and belly), garbanzo beans, carrots, and a blast of flavor (which I’m told, comes from the magical blend of garlic, onion, scallion, bell pepper and other secret ingredients). If I somehow get the recipe from my friend’s friend, I’ll post it. Promise.

Now back to the eating. Every bite registered comfort – savory, tender and packed with complex flavors. The kind that permeates your soul and gives it a warm hug.

“We would eat this with arepa and hot chocolate on Sunday mornings,” Ximena continued. Apparently, it’s common practice to preorder tamales from shops or bakeries in Colombia and then pick them up for breakfast on the weekends. It’s a different matter though on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve – many households buckle down and make their own.

By the way, “sweet water,” a simple concoction of hot water and panela valluna (unrefined cane sugar), proved to be the perfect drink with the tamales.  Not bad for Tuesday lunch.

Street Style Pourover Coffee – A Story

This is a story of how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

There’s coffee and then there’s coffee. These days, how you make coffee is just as important as your choice of coffee beans.

Have you noticed more and more independent coffee bars, “labs” and lounges popping up in your neighborhood? In the world of coffee magnificence, manually brewed coffee by-the-cup is a thing. If you want to be coffee-cool, drinking pourover coffee is pretty much mandatory. You know, coffee made with swanky gear like the V60 and Chemex.

I got an in-depth tutorial of these pourover contraptions when I talked to the president and co-founder of Deeper Roots Coffee, Les Stoneham, for a story on WCPO more than a year ago.

V60
The V60 Brewing Method. Photo taken by Grace Yek at Deeper Roots Coffee.

The whole idea of pourover coffee is, to pour hot water over ground coffee. The process requires coffee and water to be precisely weighed out, and coffee filters with specific porosity to be used. Hi-tech gear like the V60 and Chemex basically comprise a cone typically made of ceramic or glass, and lined with conical filter paper on the inside. Ground coffee goes inside the cone, hot water gets poured over the coffee, and voilà – you just brewed some coffee gold. Oh, I should mention the water temperature should stay in the range of 195ºF to 205 ºF. Anything hotter, and you risk bitter coffee.

If you think this sounds like science lab, you’re not too far off. Coffee has risen to a science, not to mention an art form, what with the very talented baristas wielding latte art on a whim.

Makeshift coffee street stall 3 by Kat (1)
Streetside coffee vendor making pourover coffee with the muslin “sock.” The coffee stand is makeshift – the vendor puts it up and breaks it down daily. Photo by Kathleen Ong.

Now what about the epiphany I had that early morning hour? Well, it is that the coffee vendors in Malaysia have been doing pourover coffee for generations. You find them selling their brew street side, or in a kopitiam (a no-frills coffee shop where the diehard locals go).

The ones who do their thing in a kopitiam are a little bit like coffee jockeys, working everything from coffee-based drinks, to freshly-squeezed fruit juice drinks, to shaved ice desserts.

Kopitiam Pour Over Coffee (photo by Jenny Seng)
Coffee “barista” in a Malaysian kopitiam. She’s holding the muslin coffee “sock” over a pitcher, after having poured hot water over the ground coffee inside the sock. Photo by Jenny Seng.

These coffee vendors don’t get anywhere close to the status modern baristas enjoy, and really, their coffee setup is pretty crude.

There’s the muslin “sock” with a round wire frame to hold open the mouth of the sock, a wire handle, and a pitcher or a cup under the contraption to catch the brew. The vendor spoons ground coffee into the sock, pours hot water over the coffee, and fills the cup or pitcher with the dribbling brew.

There you have it: brew by-the cup coffee, 100% handcrafted (just like the V60 or Chemex), although admittedly, without the precision of gram scales and thermometers.

Les Stoneham told me it’s important not to douse the coffee with all of the hot water at once when making pourover coffee. Gases trapped in the coffee should be allowed to escape first, leaving more coffee-to-water contact for better extraction with the subsequent pour of water. The no-frills Malaysian coffee vendors rarely use the first pass-through of the coffee sock. Instinctively, they’re doing the right thing by science.

Here’s to the coffee jockeys and baristas, young and old, near and far. The coffee-drinking crowd needs and appreciates you more than you know.
A note of thanks: I have awesome Malaysian friends who swiftly responded to my call for hometown coffee photos. Thank you Jamie, Jenny, Esene, Kathleen and Joyce. You made this story possible!

Kuih Kodok – the curious case of toad cakes

Kuih Kodok Finished Product

“Toad cakes.” That’s the literal translation of its name from the Malay language. But don’t stress, no toads were harmed in the making of these snackable goodies.

Its name sounds dubious, but there’s no doubt kuih kodok (kway-ko-dok) is as tasty and popular as they come in Malaysian street food. These deep fried dollops of mashed bananas, flour and sugar used to sell for 10 cents each at street side push carts – when I was growing up in the 80s, anyway. The same street hawker would also sell other deep fried goodies, like goreng pisang (battered and fried whole banana), and goreng cempedak (battered and fried cempedak fruit – a stringier, more fragrant cousin of jackfruit).

My mother didn’t cook a whole lot, but this was always a favorite whenever she did make it. She’d stir the thick batter with a spoon in a big Chinese rice bowl – that deep muffled sound – with the occasional clang whenever the spoon hit the rim of the bowl.

Kuih kodok is an anytime food – breakfast, snack, tea time or any other time. It’s best served straight out of the fryer for maximum crispiness. Speaking of which, I’ve incorporated tapioca flour to ramp up the crispy factor.

Oh, why the curious name? It simply refers to the imperfect shape of these fritters. Somewhat round, but irregular and sometimes knobby. Like a toad.

Click here for the recipe.