Orcas Style Shabu Shabu

My first encounter with Japanese cuisine happened in summer 2004 when I, a Belarusian exchange student hungry for adventure, came to Orcas Island and unexpectedly fell in love with a man whose deep brown eyes could see straight through me.  During the first month of dating, R., trying to impress me, made an amazing sushi dinner with fresh local Dungeness crab and, of course, with a side of wasabi and pickled ginger. My shock from wasabi heat and spiciness of ginger was so severe that I thought I would break up with a man who put me through that torture right after dinner. I guess there is something about my liking to completely burn my palate in the name of love. Well, luckily we didn’t break up…  Today, Japanese fare is one of my favorite cuisines. I never get tired of exploring new dishes and new ways to prepare them. One unique way to prepare a hearty, yet incredibly light, Japanese meal is to do it nabemono style. 

Nabemono is a quick-cooked Japanese stew that originates 

in Japan’s rural farming regions. It is a communal dish that engages everyone at the table. 

Usually, nabemono is a winter meal that is prepared with chicken, meat, seafood, and/or 

vegetables in a pot filled with boiling water and infused with kelp.  One of the nabemono 

varieties is sukiyaki—quick-cooked stew with thinly sliced beef and vegetables. 

Another version is shabu-shabu—a hot pot dish with thinly sliced beef in a watery broth. 

It owns its name to a swishing action of quickly dunking vegetables and thinly sliced beef into a boiling broth and stirring the stew from side to side before taking the beef and the vegetables out. 

My husband and I have a favorite Japanese restaurant in Seattle that serves shabu-shabu with delicious Wagyu, or Kobe, beef. Bush Garden used to be one of R.’s favorites spots when he was a part of Seattle grunge scene in the early nineties.  Founded in 1953, the restaurant stayed true to the rustic simplicity of Japanese dining décor and exceptional quality of food. Chef Masa who has worked there for as long as my husband can remember, always makes our dining experience there a special event. In addition to great sushi, Bush Garden serves shabu shabu with beef, udon noodles, and vegetables. I guess it remains a shabu shabu dish due to the presence of watery broth. Longing for our favorite dish, we decided to re-create it using ingredients available on the island. That is why I call it Orcas Style Shabu Shabu. For the traditional versions of this healthy and simple meal, visit Tea’s blog or Beef Shabu-Shabu Recipe.

Tender

My Mom is an exceptional cook. When she busies herself at the stove in our tiny Belarusian kitchen, the whole flat fills with aromas of onion, garlic, and that inexplicable flavor of home. There is something so beautiful about her hands fluttering above the cutting board, chopping up ingredients and making simple magic happen.  Not surprisingly, when a few years ago my parents came to the United States to meet their grandson for the first time, my Mom was immediately able to transport us back to her Belarusian kitchen with one of the simplest and most delightful chicken dishes. She calls them tender cutlets (nezhnie kotleti)—tender chicken breasts cut into small cubes and bound together by a simple mixture of mayo and flour (or corn starch). My Mom likes to serve them with a side of buckwheat—a very traditional grain in Russian cooking. Having experimented with several variations of this delicacy, I have come up with a recipe that fuses Belarusian and American cuisine by adding quinoa pilaf with pine nuts and parsley.

Quinoa is a fairly new grain to the United States, but, in fact, it is one of the oldest grains in the world. Quinoa has been cultivated in Peru, Chile and Bolivia for over 5,000 years.  It has also been a staple food in the diets of the native Indians. For example, the Incas considered it a sacred food and referred to it as the "mother seed." To learn more about this fascinating protein-rich grain clink here. Nowadays, you can find quinoa in any health-food store and many large supermarkets.

So, this dish is a definitely a time travel vehicle.  It features the world oldest grain gently tossed with pine nuts and fresh parsley and served with my Mom’s “modern” chicken cutlets. Super easy to make, it will make you go for seconds.

Chicken Comfort

For some reason, I think that roasting chicken is such a festive activity. There is something incredibly satisfying about combining butter, lemon, and fresh herbs, slathering them all over the chicken, and standing by a warm oven, waiting to baste the chicken with sweet and tangy honey,- lemon,- and olive oil mixture. I first tried this recipe six years ago preparing it for a dinner party with my in-laws. The dish was an instant hit and since then, we just never get tired of it. Original recipe calls for a whole chicken. I love roasting a whole chicken this way, but a few nights ago, I just had a few packages of chicken thighs in my fridge. I also had a wonderful wild honey sent to me by my pen pal in Pennsylvania (thank you K.!). I doubled the recipe, adjusted several preparation steps, and increased the amount of fresh herbs, but otherwise stayed true to The Gourmet version.

Clams, It's What for Dinner...

Lopez Island Clams, that is. One of the perks of living on an island is the access to the freshest shellfish harvested locally. As a child, I have never been exposed to shellfish, but tasting the best of the island bounty made me almost an instant convert. I actually do not remember the first time I tried clams, but I do know it definitely was a love at first bite. Jones Family Farms located on a neighbor island of Lopez is a great local business that specializes in quality natural meats and seafood. Jones’ manila clams are my favorite. Their sweet and briny flavor paired with your favorite white wine could elevate a Monday meal to a special occasion.  Famous for their exceptional quality, they disappear from the seafood sections of our two island grocery stores very quickly. So, imagine my excitement when I found them at our local market when I was performing regular “what’s for dinner” Monday hunt after a long day of working and studying.

This meal comes together in a flash, so tonight I invite you to pour yourself a glass of wine and dig in.

On Memories, Cooking, and Zucchini

Transitioning into the Pacific Northwest mode after our weeks in Mexico has been an interesting challenge. You know, there is that time between the feeling of being completely settled back into your regular routine and the feeling of bittersweet nostalgia for carefree vacation days that are now neatly transformed into the hundreds of photos on your hard drive…  Such time always makes me look back at the things and experiences that brought me to where I am today.  Naturally, I start thinking about food.

Having lived “on a rock” for seven years, I have gone through major ups and downs related to my island life and my becoming a wife, a stepmom, and a mother. Over these years I’ve found that the best therapy, outlet, and cure, if you wish, for whatever ails my rambling brain and tired body is cooking. 

I wish I could say that I loved cooking and food since I was child, learning to appreciate the subtle flavors of Belarusian cuisine on my grandmother knee, but… I did not. I have never been crazy about cooking or food.  I was a picky eater when I was a child. In fact, I did not like to eat and felt like it was such a chore.  Only after I entered a linguistics program at a Belarusian university and started living on my own, I became interested in food. I was hungry and I had a roommate who had heaps of food sent to her from her parents (yes, in Belarus, parents send you care-packages filled with goodies and groceries), but who absolutely did not want to do anything with it. So, I started to experiment with the staples like borsch (a hot beet soup), boiled potatoes and pork cutlets, and fish with onions and, ahem, cheese…  Luckily, my roommate was a grateful eater and a kind critic.

Pizza Time!

We have been lucky to enjoy a few very nice spring days.  I love morning bird songs and that inexplicable warm feeling that tells all your senses that spring has finally arrived. I always feel elated and inspired when the sun picks through the trees and kisses our deck. Except that now our deck is completely covered in pollen. It has been an incredibly intense pollen season here on the island with thick clouds of yellow dust permeating the air, irritating our nasal passages, and making our cars look rusty…Oops, I have started to drift… Must be pollen…

But the spring is HERE! And that means fresh produce, new beginnings, and new recipes. I have been fiddling with the idea of a new meat-free pizza for quite some time and, after watching the “pizza” episode of The Worst Cooks in America, I got inspired to create a meatless version of our family’s favorite meal.  I know that the show titled The Worst Cooks in America could not possibly sound authoritative or special, but I really like how Bobby Flay and Anne Burrell share their techniques with their rather unassuming trainees. So, I turned to The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook to find one of my favorite pizza dough recipes. I then came up with the toppings based on what I had available in my fridge and what I saw on one of Bobby Flay’s creations.  This recipe is a little bit involved, because caramelizing the onions and preparing the mushrooms can take some time, but I promise that the end result is totally worth it. This dish is also very versatile and you may add or omit any of the toppings. I do think though that adding organic greens (especially, peppery arugula) drizzled with balsamic and olive oil gives it an extra special spring flavor.

Please note that the amount of olive oil necessary for making the toppings and for finishing the dish may vary, as we all have different preferences for the amount of oil in our dishes. I personally like to have “just enough” of it J.

And Then There Was a Cookie...

The notion of a soft and chewy cookie has been foreign to me up until several years ago. When I was a child, I remember eating hard short-bread-like cookies that always smelled like vanillin (a fragrant crystalline concoction extracted from vanilla beans, quite popular in modern Belarusian cooking) and other simple flavors of the Soviet era (think lemon and orange). For some reason, that kind of cookie has been a red-headed stepchild of dessert in my book. It was something that never truly meant “festive” or “super yummy.”  It used to be a sweet standby just in case you ran out of chocolate or other confectionary delights. Not surprisingly, when I first came to the United States, I was intrigued by the proverbial chocolate chip cookie that seemed weird and under-baked, but nonetheless scrumptious. And it had chocolate chunks in it!

Nika's Birthday Carrot Cake

My son Nikolai was born on a night of a full lunar eclipse. I vividly remember that day and that night. When his warm, soft, and sticky body landed on my chest, I experienced a whole range of conflicting feelings. Relief from the pains of labor, joy, love, anticipation, and peace were mixed in my head in one messy post-labor daze.   My husband and I brought a child into this world. That fact seemed so strange and so profoundly beautiful. Resting in my arms, there was a boy that would change me and the world around me forever. His entrance into our lives has transformed everything we’ve known about sleep,  happiness, exhaustion, and the joy of discovery. With Nika, we have adopted this new restless curiosity that helps us explore the world like we have never explored it before.

We celebrated Nika’s fourth birthday in Mexico. This year, it was a culmination of our stay in Mazatlan and a bitter-sweet farewell to the warm and sunny days on the coast.   On that day, one happy and opinionated four-year old was merrily trotting around the patio waiting for his ultimate birthday treat—Nika’s Birthday Carrot Cake.  It was somewhat an emergency this year, an Iron Chef-type challenge with almost no kitchen equipment, an old gas oven, and a weird bottle of Mexican vanilla that suspiciously smelled like vinegar, but tasted like vanilla.

El Molcajete

Filled with Mexican Chihuahua cheese, packed with fresh shrimp and/or thinly sliced chicken or beef, and topped with roasted chili peppers, this dish has become one of my favorite memories of my time in Mexico. My father’s-in-law friend Paul invited us to a place called La Borchetta—a tiny shack facing a big supermarket in the center of Mazatlan where he and his wife have been repeatedly enjoying delicious meals served in lava rock vessels. I believe that only true “regulars” know about such places, because that small restaurant by the road had more customers it could handle that night.

Mama's Panko-Breaded Shrimp

Nothing compares to family dinners on a warm February night somewhere in Mexico... I remember the sounds of cicadas and crickets saying good-bye to the day and the smell of the salty ocean breeze paired so nicely with the sweet and firm bites of fresh shrimp fried to perfection in my mother's-in-law famous breading. We laughed, breaded, cooked, and ate on that night until the feeling of pleasant languor won us over and sent us to bed. 

One may say that we had the weirdest combination of foods on our plates that night… Fettuccine pasta was one of the side dishes.  Tossed with the home-made tomato sauce generously given to my mom-in-law by her Italian friends from Canada, the pasta dish was accompanied by a salad of Italian tomatoes mixed with minced garlic, roughly chopped onion, and dried Italian herbs.  Mama’s Panko-Breaded Shrimp crowned this rather Italian-looking plate. And somehow, these dishes worked together, because they offered simple, tasty, and honest flavors that can only be created on a night of pure harmony and bliss.

What Would Anthony Bourdain Do?

          I have been a fan of Anthony Bourdain since the first months of my post-immigration solitude. I did not drive a car, did not have any friends, and my husband was working full-time, so I just stayed alone in our house in the woods on a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest, trying to figure out how long it would take to get my life back on track.  It was still quite hard for me to understand English spoken on TV, but in my desperate search for entertainment, I spent hours watching the Food Network and the Travel Channel. During those grueling months, I “got to know” the controversial food critic, chef, and traveler Anthony Bourdain through his renowned show No Reservations.  That show would become my introduction into the world of food, bizarre encounters, and not-so-touristy experiences.

          I guess it was logical then that I remembered about Bourdain when I entered the old Mexican market located in El Centro Historico in Mazatlan, Mexico. My parents-in-law brought us to the Mazatlan’s oldest open market to show Mexican culture at its most honest and vibrant best. The smell of fermented fruit, displays of fresh (and, ahem, sometimes not so fresh) fish, openly butchered meats and poultry, and buckets full of fresh seafood added to the colorful medley of fruit, vegetables, pastries, clothes, souvenirs and more.  
           I wondered what a famous traveler and a chef would say about the abundance of produce and an astonishing variety of meat cuts and meat parts lain in the open air before our eyes. I think he would be braver than me, because I would not try the mysteriously looking dishes sold by the vendors. Some dishes looked like sophisticated tamales, some were completely unrecognizable. And although the smell was extremely seductive, I opted not to try anything, but rather point my lens at these incredible representations of Mexican culture. I wondered whether Bourdain would also pause in awe in front of the colorful produce stands and whether he would want to blend in with the crowd as much as I did. I mused whether he would want to speak like a native and immerse himself in the world that runs its course while we are comfortably sipping coffee on our Northwestern mornings. I think he would.

Chicken Tortilla Soup

I am going to cut right to the chase here. Recreating authentic dishes is a daring activity. Intimidating even. Especially, when you are a Belarusian who was lucky to try many exquisite Mexican dishes made by her Mexican American host mom and who has spent years chasing those flavors in her own dishes. When I tried a tortilla soup at the restaurant with a corny name Gringo Lingo (translated something like “White Slang” or similar), I have discovered that I really had a lot to learn about classic tortilla soup. My husband was surprised to taste that silky tomato broth garnished with tortilla chips, avocado, sour cream, and cilantro. That soup, he admitted, tasted nothing like its previous versions he had tried at Gringo Lingo’s. The soup was dusted with sweet paprika and had virtually no heat. Despite the absence of the spicy edge, there was something deliciously satisfying about its smooth consistency and sweet aroma.

That Sweet Taste of Mazatlan Shrimp

El Paraje (The Place) Restaurant Camarones A La Parrilla (Grilled Shrimp)

My parents-in-law have been coming to Mazatlan, Mexico, for twenty years, so they have naturally become regular customers at the most famous eateries in town.  One of such eateries is a restaurant called El Paraje (or The Place) located on a street with a colorful name Camaron Sabalo (Or Shrimp Shack). Greeted by the owner’s son Victor, we concentrated on the menu that offered a variety of shrimp and lobster specialties. I craved the pure grilled Mexican shrimp (Camarones a La Parilla) and when my plate arrived, I knew I was in for a treat.  Adorned with a drizzle of butter and garlic, the shrimp were juicy, sweet, and firm to the bite. They still bore very subtle hints of the sea aroma reminding me that perhaps even that morning my dinner was still in the ocean. Not a bad thing when we talk about seafood. I did not even finish the sides of rice, vegetables, and baked potato that came with the meal, for I thoroughly enjoyed that subtle reminder that the best meals in life are also the simplest.

The First Taste of Mexico

Playa Gaviotas through the window of Pancho's Restaurant, Mazatlan, Mexico

Mazatlan, Mexico 2012. Camarones al Coco (Coconut Shrimp) at Pancho's Restaurant 

I first tried Mexican fare during that memorable year as an exchange student in Oklahoma. My Spanish teacher (and at that time my future second host mom) hosted a big party—a true Mexican feast with music, soft drinks, endless bottles of Corona, and hearty flavors of home-made Mexican food.  As I walked in the door, I was overwhelmed by such unique, unknown, and yet surprisingly comforting flavors of cumin, chili peppers, lime, and cilantro escaping from the kitchen. But I guess there was one more thing that added to the immediate charm of the evening. My first love, a handsome Mexican American boy, happened to be my Spanish teacher’s son and he was the one who greeted me at the door with a big smile and that inexplicable charming shyness that used to make my head spin.

The Beginning

Beginnings are hard, don’t you think?  Whenever you are starting a new family, a new career, or… a new blog for a writing internship project, things can get difficult very quickly.  I think I have been “writing” this blog in my head for almost two years, but now, when I am faced with the prospect of actually sharing my thoughts with the world, each word seems surprisingly intimidating.

I am drawing upon my memories, thoughts, events, and places that brought me to this small space on the web and I am remembering that hazy August day almost twelve years ago when scorching Southern heat enveloped my tired body at Oklahoma City International Airport. Sweaty palms, blue exchange student t-shirt, and a small backpack. My head was spinning. I kept repeating to myself, “I am in America, I am in America.” Nervous, tired, and happy, I breathed the air of the country I was about to explore from the perspective of a naïve seventeen-year-old Belarusian who fearlessly left her home country to explore the United States of America.

I anxiously searched for the faces of my host family in the excited and colorful crowd.  Oh, there they were! Balloons and flowers, first hugs. Then, heat, dirty van, screaming children, nausea, a stop at the Golden Corral, my first bite of shrimp, and the place I would need to call my new home for a year-long stay in a small town of Pauls Valley, Oklahoma.

Despair, tribulations, and a new host family would happen later, but at that time, I quickly started to realize that there wouldn’t be a picture of quiet and peaceful suburban leaving in my exchange student tale.  I learned quickly that a culture shock proliferated throughout my body, reached my confused and tired mind, making me long for that indescribable smell of my home and… my mother’s borsch.