Untangling My Chopsticks by Victoria Abbott Riccardi Page A
Authors: Victoria Abbott Riccardi
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Add the soy sauce and salt and bring to a simmer. Keep warm over very low heat.
Bring the remaining 1 cup dashi to a boil in a small saucepan. Cut the duck meat along the bias into four pieces. Dredge each one in the potato starch, tapping off any excess. Add the duck to the dashi and cook over very low heat until just pink, about 5 minutes.
For each wanmori, place a morsel of duck in the center of a bowl. Add a mochi cake and a bundle of spinach. Lean a carrot rectangle up against the spinach, then garnish it with a tiny diamond of yuzu zest. Ladle the seasoned dashi around the ingredients and cover the bowl with a lid.
Makes 4 servings
7.
n unexpected stroke of luck came my way when Stephen called about a week after our first tea kaiseki class. He and his partner David were planning to host an afternoon kaiseki and tea ceremony at their home to celebrate the coming of winter and New Year's. If I was free, I was welcome to come by and see the whole thing from start to finish. “You can help me cook. David does the tea,” added Stephen.
In contrast to Stephen, David resembled a Zen monk. He had a buzz-cut helmet of gray hair and often dressed in gorgeous kimonos. He was a teacher at one of the three big Kyoto tea schools and his patient gentle demeanor suited him well to the quiet and deliberate world of tea, as did his sharp mind and knowledge of Asian history.
I told Stephen I would love to help him. What better way tospend a Saturday? I could study Japanese at home in the morning and then swing by his place right after lunch. “What time should I show up?” I inquired.
“As early as you can,” he replied. “We have lots to do. I'll be up at six.”
The next morning my alarm went off at 5:30. As if embarking on some kind of culinary Outward Bound, I got dressed in the dark and headed downstairs with my knapsack, purple fleece jacket, red woolen scarf, and mittens. After a strong cup of coffee, I quietly locked the Guesthouse door behind me. It was 6:15.
Since Stephen and David lived around the corner from Mushanokoji, the most direct way to their house was to head west on Kitayama Street and then down Karasuma Street toward the Imperial Palace. But that morning I decided to take an alternate route to witness the frosty gray light of morning rise over the Kamo River. The cold damp air smelled like burning leaves as I made my way past the frost-crusted hedges along the embankment. Mist hovered over the water, shrouding the marsh grass and bridges in a diaphanous veil of platinum white. Just when I thought I was the only one awake, a loud flapping of wings broke the silence and a white crane lifted off the water. The sun had yet to break through by the time I reached Stephen and David's home. Much too early.
By taking the river route, I had arrived just before 7:00. So I circled the block. But by 7:15, I was back where I had started. Should I knock or should I leave? “I'll be up at six,” echoed Stephen's voice in my head. Maybe he and David are awake, Ithought. Maybe Stephen needs me. Maybe he's up to his elbows in dashi. Maybe he's wondering where I am.
I knocked on the gate. Silence. I knocked again. Still nothing. “Stephen?” I meekly called. “Are you there?” I craned my head around, but saw no one. Then I knocked a little louder. Silence. “Helloooooo,” I called. I rapped the door and waited. And waited.
“Stephen!” I shouted.
“Coming,” whined a voice. I heard a rustle along the garden path, and suddenly Stephen stood before me. He was wrapped in an extra-large white-and-navy casual kimono, looking like a big baby who had just been roused from his nap. He unlocked the gate and slid it open. “I hope I'm not too early,” I said, looking at his tousled hair.
“Not at all. We're just having breakfast.”
I came to the entrance of their home and swallowed hard. David was sitting on the floor like a rag doll with his bare feet stuck out from his cotton kimono. Two male guests, also in
Bring the remaining 1 cup dashi to a boil in a small saucepan. Cut the duck meat along the bias into four pieces. Dredge each one in the potato starch, tapping off any excess. Add the duck to the dashi and cook over very low heat until just pink, about 5 minutes.
For each wanmori, place a morsel of duck in the center of a bowl. Add a mochi cake and a bundle of spinach. Lean a carrot rectangle up against the spinach, then garnish it with a tiny diamond of yuzu zest. Ladle the seasoned dashi around the ingredients and cover the bowl with a lid.
Makes 4 servings
7.
n unexpected stroke of luck came my way when Stephen called about a week after our first tea kaiseki class. He and his partner David were planning to host an afternoon kaiseki and tea ceremony at their home to celebrate the coming of winter and New Year's. If I was free, I was welcome to come by and see the whole thing from start to finish. “You can help me cook. David does the tea,” added Stephen.
In contrast to Stephen, David resembled a Zen monk. He had a buzz-cut helmet of gray hair and often dressed in gorgeous kimonos. He was a teacher at one of the three big Kyoto tea schools and his patient gentle demeanor suited him well to the quiet and deliberate world of tea, as did his sharp mind and knowledge of Asian history.
I told Stephen I would love to help him. What better way tospend a Saturday? I could study Japanese at home in the morning and then swing by his place right after lunch. “What time should I show up?” I inquired.
“As early as you can,” he replied. “We have lots to do. I'll be up at six.”
The next morning my alarm went off at 5:30. As if embarking on some kind of culinary Outward Bound, I got dressed in the dark and headed downstairs with my knapsack, purple fleece jacket, red woolen scarf, and mittens. After a strong cup of coffee, I quietly locked the Guesthouse door behind me. It was 6:15.
Since Stephen and David lived around the corner from Mushanokoji, the most direct way to their house was to head west on Kitayama Street and then down Karasuma Street toward the Imperial Palace. But that morning I decided to take an alternate route to witness the frosty gray light of morning rise over the Kamo River. The cold damp air smelled like burning leaves as I made my way past the frost-crusted hedges along the embankment. Mist hovered over the water, shrouding the marsh grass and bridges in a diaphanous veil of platinum white. Just when I thought I was the only one awake, a loud flapping of wings broke the silence and a white crane lifted off the water. The sun had yet to break through by the time I reached Stephen and David's home. Much too early.
By taking the river route, I had arrived just before 7:00. So I circled the block. But by 7:15, I was back where I had started. Should I knock or should I leave? “I'll be up at six,” echoed Stephen's voice in my head. Maybe he and David are awake, Ithought. Maybe Stephen needs me. Maybe he's up to his elbows in dashi. Maybe he's wondering where I am.
I knocked on the gate. Silence. I knocked again. Still nothing. “Stephen?” I meekly called. “Are you there?” I craned my head around, but saw no one. Then I knocked a little louder. Silence. “Helloooooo,” I called. I rapped the door and waited. And waited.
“Stephen!” I shouted.
“Coming,” whined a voice. I heard a rustle along the garden path, and suddenly Stephen stood before me. He was wrapped in an extra-large white-and-navy casual kimono, looking like a big baby who had just been roused from his nap. He unlocked the gate and slid it open. “I hope I'm not too early,” I said, looking at his tousled hair.
“Not at all. We're just having breakfast.”
I came to the entrance of their home and swallowed hard. David was sitting on the floor like a rag doll with his bare feet stuck out from his cotton kimono. Two male guests, also in
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