Things we're eating: Ramen Bar

One of our favorite meals around here is something I call Ramen Bar. All I have to do is call out, "Ramen Bar" around dinnertime, and everyone stops what they're doing and comes running. And by 'come running' I mean they actually put their cell phones down and make their way to the kitchen.

When I've mentioned to people that I'm making ramen for dinner, I've gotten some judgy questions: "Is a 25¢ block of noodles really a sufficient meal?" "What about all that sodium? " "You're Asian, isn't ramen for dinner just a cop-out and a cliché?"

Once I've given them some serious side-eye, I explain that this isn't your dorm-room ramen. These are fresh noodles that you purchase from an Asian market, and with a bunch of different toppings – all fresh ingredients – laid out that everyone can choose themselves. My teens and their friends seem to especially like this – it's about time we let them make their own decisions, and there's nothing like being the boss of your soup.

Start with fresh noodles - you can find these in the refrigerated section of most Asian markets. Each package has two servings. Or only one if you want a larger portion. Our local ramen shop offers a 'large order' that comes in a bowl the size of a child's wading pool.

They usually have three different flavors available: Shoyu (soy sauce), Miso and Spicy Sesame. The  flavor refers to the broth packet that comes in the package, but this isn't the usual powder that comes in a foil packet that comes with Top Ramen – it's a liquid, slightly oily paste that you mix with boiling water to make your broth. If you're a purist you can even make your own (here's a good recipe from momofuku) but honestly I've been-there-done-that and the broth that comes with these fresh noodles is really good, so why bother? Use the extra time for sipping some cold saké.

Sidenote: While you're at the Asian market you should really pick up some of these to reward yourelf for all of your hard work:

Back to our ramen: Next, lay out a bunch of toppings. I've used slices of chicken, hard-boiled or fried eggs, tofu, cilantro, basil, sliced jalapeño, shredded cabbage, green onions and lime. This is probably more of a ramen/pho mashup of toppings – more traditional ramen toppings would be bean sprouts, sliced shiitake mushrooms, spinach, nori (seaweed), kamaboko (fish cake) and char siu (barbecued pork.) Really, the sky's the limit – just don't do anything weird like french fries or Oreos because then I'll have to send the Asian police to your door.

The broth concentrate goes into your bowl and covered with boiling water. Meanwhile, cook your noodles for 2 minutes, drain, and serve up into the broth with the toppings nearby. Yell out, "Ramen Bar" and watch your hungry family stampede over. Sort of.

(Not to imply that those store-bought, hard bricks of noodles don't have their place. This video of Hayao Miyazaki making ramen for his staff is one of my favorites. If Top Ramen is good enough for the director of 'Totoro', it's good enough for me.)

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I signed up to do NaBloPoMo (short for National Blog Posting Month) which is an online event where bloggers are challenged to post every single day of the month. This is only my third post out of twelve days, which is bad no matter how you do the math.



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Pop-Up Pantry: So good no one will think you cooked it yourself

True story: When I was in my 20's, a friend and I were put in charge of dinner plans for a group of us celebrating a friend's birthday. We did what all normal twentysomethings would do: We concocted an elaborate hoax and a web of lies intended to fool those close to us.

Instead of cooking, we bought a ton of really good Chinese food and told everyone we'd made it ourselves. (Because who has time to cook when it's the 80's and you're busy trying to score Duran Duran tickets or searching for the perfect shoulder pads?) Behind closed doors, we emptied take-out cartons into skillets and woks, making sure they sizzled extra loud for added effect. We forbid anyone from entering the kitchen lest they lay eyes on us reheating wonton soup or catch a glimpse of the stack of empty containers outside the back door.

Years later when we came clean to our friends they pretended that they'd known all along that we hadn't cooked, because "That meal was way too good for you guys to pull off." We instantly regretted not having stirred the duck sauce with our feet.

But flash forward to now, and it's no longer a dirty secret to serve pre-prepared food to your guests. We're still busy, and realize it's perfectly fine to have a little help if we need to work or would rather hit the town. (Although how many times do you really need to see Duran Duran?)...Read More...

Get in mah belly, you crazy mushroom crostini and bastilla.

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Get in mah belly

Here are my latest food posts over on the Restaurant blog on Uptake. Bar food, refreshing beverages, hunks of meat and a condiment query – you may need a nap afterwards.

Raising the Bar at Duke's in Malibu

This past weekend my husband and I found ourselves in possession of one of the rarest commodities for a parent: a three-hour window to ourselves. The teenagers were busy with homework and the chores had been done, so we got busy planning our escape. Did I mention THREE WHOLE HOURS? That’s like two decades in parent years. We realize that teenagers have feelings too, though, so we tried not to seem too eager to leave them – although I told my husband that fifteen-straight-minutes of high-fiving might have given us away. Read More...

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I Never Met a Steak I Didn't Like

Actually, that title is a little deceiving. I have met steaks I didn’t like – the ones that have been overcooked, over-seasoned, or those that have been humiliated by being topped by onion rings or some sort of mango-honey-starfruit-relish concoction. Once I get rid of those obstacles, though, I can usually get to what I came for – a simple, glorious, unadulterated piece of meat. Ah, steak. Read More...


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Uva Bar: The Happiest Place In Downtown Disney
If you’ve been to Disneyland, then chances are you’ve passed by Uva Bar, the outdoor bar located right in the middle of Downtown Disney. But if you’re like my husband and I, you’ve probably only gazed at it longingly as you rushed past on your way to the entrance to the Magic Kingdom, your kids urging you to walk a little faster with their cries of, “Must get FastPasses” and “Why do old people move so slow.” You resolve to come back later and relax with a tall cool one, but know deep inside that your diet for the next few hours will consist of chicken fingers, Cokes and giant turkey legs. Read More...

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What's On Your French Fry?

I don’t like ketchup on my french fries. There, I said it.
I realize this puts me in the minority. What kind of deviant doesn’t like their fries served up with a generous helping of the all-American condiment? Sure I get some weird stares and lots of pointing and name-calling (and that’s just from my family), but I prefer my fries completely naked so I can savor the crunchy, salty taste without the sweetness of the ketchup distracting me. Besides, tomato-y condiments are best saved for things like deviled eggs. Cue more pointing and name-calling. Read More...

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I'm a big fan of food

Besides sleeping and driving like a crazy person, one of my favorite things in life is food. Eating it, talking about it, writing about it – I guess you could say if food had a cheering section, I would be right up front wearing an ill-fitting cheerleader outfit and screaming the loudest.

So it kind of makes perfect sense that I'm now writing for the Restaurants blog on the travel site Uptake.com. I'll be posting there twice a week, and so far I've written about hot dogs wrapped in bacon, deviled eggs and strong coffee. So grab some antacids and come and check it out.

Bacon-Wrapped Hot Dogs Are Music To My Ears

Earlier this year I had the thrill of catching one of Prince’s concerts at the Los Angeles Forum. It was the last of the string of concerts he played there, one of 21 I believe. Or was it 68? For all I know he’s still there playing, jumping around on his platforms and two replaced hips. Whatever, it was an amazing night, a truly kick-ass, loud, crazy, hysterical night where we partied like it was 1999.
Then why is it whenever anyone asks me about the concert, one of the first things I talk about is the bacon-wrapped hot dog I had outside the venue after the show? Read More...

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In Defense of Deviled Eggs

What comes to mind when you hear ‘deviled eggs’? Like most people it probably conjures up images of noisy family potlucks from your childhood, a table crowded with platters of finger sandwiches and Jell-o molds. Just when you thought you couldn’t eat anymore, in bursts grandma through the front door with a platter of those deviled eggs on one of those crazy trays that has an indent for each egg, as if each one is so special it needs its own little seat. Just reading this is probably making you want to grab your skateboard and lie to your mom about going to the library. Read More...

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Aroma Coffee & Tea Company: Kick Back While You Get Your Buzz On

Anyone who knows me is aware that I love coffee. I mean really love coffee. We’re talking writing-sonnets-about and almost-naming-my-kid-Latte kind of love. Don’t judge – there are worse vices to have, and at least mine is completely legal and hasn’t disrupted my life. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ll finish the rest of this post in the other room – my cappuccino foot bath is getting cold. Read More...


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This is just nuts

I have a confession to make. No, it's not about my reptile feet. I hope you're sitting down for this one.

I just tried Nutella for the first time last year. What.

Stop yelling.

For some reason, Nutella wasn't ever on the table of this Asian American growing up in South Central. Spam sandwiches, yes. Fancy spread made with hazelnuts and a 'hint of cocoa'? Not so much. I don't think I'd even heard of it until a few years ago, and even then I figured it was just some other mutant form of peanut butter. You know, peanut butter with different nuts or something like that. Hey, calm down.

So last year I finally gave in and bought a jar just to see what all the fuss was about. So that I wouldn't be left out at gatherings when the talk turned to Nutella and all it's amazing qualities. Seriously, I've seen people's eyes glaze over when they start talking about this stuff, saying things like, "If Nutella were a man I'd never say no to sex." And I'm all, "C'mon, people, it's just a hazelnut spread with a hint of cocoa." It's not like it's Baconnaise, or anything.

(Note: This post was not sponsored by Nutella, nor have they provided any product to entice me, although now that I'm thinking about it there is a cool Nutella spreader that they could possibly send me if they're feeling friendly. It says it's "able to reach the sides and even the corners of your Nutella jar!" which seems awfully handy.)

Another confession: Nutella did not overwhelm me. While I'm fond of dipping a pretzel into it or spreading it on a graham cracker, I'm not ready to say it's the best thing to come along since peanut butter. Or Spam.

Wow, put down the torches.

But you'll be happy to hear that my girls are totally down with the whole hazelnut-cocoa experience.

They've developed an overwhelming obsession with it, what seems to be a frenzied desire to make up for all of those years they lived without it due to their mother's ignorance of European non-peanut spreads. The jar is always on the counter and never makes its way back into the pantry - it's as if the parting would be too much to bear. I even bought another jar last week before the previous one was empty, because Kira looked inside it and said with some panic in her voice, "Please buy another one. SERIOUSLY WE MIGHT RUN OUT." Those last words were said with such gravity, as if the absence of the Nutella might lead to some sort of condiment apocalypse.

So now we're a Nutella family - Nutella on toast, Nutella on crackers, Nutella crepes. (Rigel even made Kira a Nutella sandwich the other day, which just seemed so wrong to me – isn't that just a chocolate sandwich?) But more importantly, I feel like I can confidently join in on any pro-Nutella conversations that inevitably break out at fancy dinners and cocktail parties and no longer have to feel ashamed of my lack of chocolate-infused-toast-topping knowledge.

Although I still say it doesn't hold a candle to canned meat.

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My Gang Of New York, Part IV: We Ate Stuff

Here's another post on New York! Try not to throw things at the screen - it's my last one. And cheer up - it's about food. Who doesn't want to hear about food? I'm only going to tell you about two of my favorite food experiences while I was there, not every hot dog and pizza slice I ate. That would be totally indulgent, like having a website where you talked about yourself and posted your vacation photos. This is nothing like that.
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Mommy Needs Her Crack

I have to confess that one of the real reasons I was eager to get to New York was this:

It must have been that first line, "She thought she didn't even like sweets..." that got my attention. That was me! The writer went on to say that she had fallen in love with something called Crack Pie, and by the end of the article I was ready to shell out $44 + shipping to have one flown across the country to me. Who pays almost fifty bucks for a pie and then has it mailed to them? This was crazy talking. I decided to wait and put my money towards something sensible, like those cute rainboots for my cat.

I was obsessed, though, so I emailed my hip, young, urbanite niece Allie and asked her to try it out for me. She did, and said it was everything it was cracked up to be. (No pun intended.) After that, that crazy pie was never far from my mind and when I found out I'd be going to New York, getting my hands on some Crack was all I could think about.

Which is why on our last night of our trip we found ourselves at Momofuku Milk Bar, having our first taste of Crack Pie, thanks to Allie.

It didn't disappoint. More like a cookie because of its denseness, it was a slice of buttery, carmelized sugar heaven. Check out those ingredients – when the first four are butter, sugar, brown sugar and cream, you know you're headed straight to hell. I think it was Allie who said, "If I feel completely sick afterward it will have done its job."

In fact, it was so worth every crumb of its $5.25-per-slice price tag that I'm still considering spending the cash to have an entire pie shipped to me, just so I can share it with my friends. Besides, I'm tired of the cat telling me how to spend my money.

Epilogue: When we were leaving our hotel the next day with our Momofuku bag stuffed with take-home cookies and pie, Kiyomi was pulling my suitcase and yelled out across the crowded lobby, "Don't worry mom - I've got your crack pipe." (Of course, she was saying pie, but no one knew but us.)

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Sphere Factor!

This might be old news to you foodies, but it was the first time for me. Spheres of food - really big caviar comes to mine - that sort of explode in your mouth when you bite into it. I had it my first night in NYC, at Asiate at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. It sort of feels like a really soft grape when you first put it in your mouth, and then once you bite into it you get an explosion of cranberry. Having an exploding ball of food in your mouth might not sound exciting to you, but I was intrigued. Then again, I get all tingly when the McRib is back in town, so maybe I'm easily pleased.

We had the same thing the next night at the Nintendo event, except these spheres were made with mozzarella. I have to say this one wasn't quite as tasty – I would rather have had a really good piece of actual cheese – but this time I got to see how it was done. Also, just to get extra indulgent, these were served with tiny syringes filled with basil extract. I was almost expecting to be laid down on a feather bed and fed by a naked chef. (That didn't happen, but gave me an idea for my next birthday party.)

Lucky for you I made a video of the whole process! The technique is called Spherification and was apparently made famous by a chef at the legendary restaurant El Bulli in Spain. First the liquid 'essence' is scooped up and then put into a bath of what was described as a seaweed extract, and then put into another bath of cold calcium chloride solution that sets it. The result: a sphere with a slightly crisp exterior and a liquid interior.

Try not to get distracted by my awesome video and music editing skills.



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Spam: It's What's For Dinner. No, Really.

Today I’m going to talk about Spam. I’m not talking about the kind in your mailbox, I’m talking about the canned meat.

Hey, where’d everybody go?

Now that everyone, save for a few adventurous souls and the Asians, have left the room let me tell you about one of my favorite family traditions, Spam musubi, (pronounced moo-soo-bee), a kind of sushi concoction made out of spam, rice and seaweed.

Hey look – now only the Asians are still here.

Sure, being Japanese-American, it’s kind of expected that my family tradition would be along the lines of a complex fish recipe handed down to me from my grandmother and featuring eyeballs and fins, or some sort of elegant cake concoction made from the delicate leaves of a young cherry blossom tree. Ideally it would be something that was created by my ancestors and whose ingredients were painstakingly written down on piece of parchment and residing in an antique carved wooden box that smells like memories.

Instead, it’s a meat of questionable origin, plopped out of a rectangular can along with it’s glistening, quivering coating of gelatin. Then it’s sliced, sauteed and sandwiched between some rice and wrapped in seaweed. It doesn’t so much smell like memories as like ham.

Here, see for yourself:



More than a tradition, it’s a constant presence whenever my huge family of 25 gets together. Unlike my mom’s lime-green jello that only makes an appearance at Thanksgiving, Spam musubi shows up at birthday parties, Christmas dinner, picnics, graduation celebrations and Easter brunch. Usually my mom makes a platter of Spam musubi, but since its recipe is universal anyone can step in and whip up a batch. Unlike other more glamorous, gourmet holiday dishes, sister-in-laws, cousins, aunts and uncles all possess the culinary skill to bring these beauties to the table. Take that, white-truffle-oil fingerling potatoes.

(It’s not just my family tradition – Spam musubi can be found at many Japanese restaurants and all over Hawaii, where they even sell them at 7-11. Being able to walk into a convenience store and pick up a Spam musubi and a Big Gulp might just be the best reason I’ve ever heard for moving to Maui.)

So if you’re ever lucky enough to be at one of my family gatherings, look past the turkey or the Easter ham or the platter of sandwiches and find the Tupperware filled with Spam musubi. Now there’s a dish steeped in tradition. And gelatin.

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This post was written as part of my involvement with the Yahoo! Motherboard. Read about other family traditions on the Yahoo! Motherboard page on Shine.



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