lioness in japan

I am a huge fan of hot pot, so when Ambien and her hubby were going to visit my new pad as part of their Tokyo itinerary, I knew I had to make my Japanese hotpot debut.

To get started, I bought a portable gas stove from Biccamera (JPY2,400), a funky green nabe pot (it’s actually a claypot, which is similar to the Chinese version), and sake.

Itching to try an authentic Japanese recipe, I went online in search for an easy, delicious one. Like many gaijins who look for recipes in English, I was a little disappointed and what I found were on Western sites that looked quite dubious in their authenticity. A British blogger who used to live in Japan came up with his modified version — a lot of white wine with salt and pepper. The search results threw up Youtube videos, too, and I only found a Japanese stew hot pot demo, and to my amusement, a Japanese recipe for Western-style nabe. What could be in this hybrid? Carrots and sausages! Gross…

I finally came across another gaijin blog who had a Japanese friend prepare a nabe for a party he threw — so that’s where I got this recipe to serve four people:

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Just when I thought I was cooling towards Singaporean cuisine in Tokyo — they are not that great, honestly — a pretty good one pops up on my radar. I have been trying not to be so hard up about laksa and hokkien mee and all those yummy dishes from home. Japanese nosh can be a bit bland with its ubiquitous soy taste in almost every dish.

Instead, I satisfy my cravings with a comfy mix of my own “fusion” dishes, like stir-fried udon noodles with oyster sauce chicken and veggies, or cod fish porridge (yes, it’s cheap in these parts), or jalapeno sauce and sesame oil grilled chicken wings.

A Singaporean friend suggested a dinner there after an Indian friend introduced it to her. The lunch was fabulous, so a week later, she wanted to go again and she raved to me, “It’s so authentic that I can go anytime!”

Well, I couldn’t refuse. Apparently, this restaurant was started by a Singaporean, who invited all the famous seafood restaurants (Jumbo, Palm Beach and International) to a joint venture. The original chefs were flown down to train the Japanese cooks and so the recipes are authentic. The exterior of the restaurant recalls Seah Street Deli in a way, said one of the Singaporeans in our group. If there’s posh Singaporean fare, this is it.

This squid fish cake and fried fritter (or you tiao in Mandarin) dish was a delectable appetizer, so much so that we ordered three plates of six, to dip into a bowl of chilli crab sauce we couldn’t finish.

The black pepper crab was the star of the show with the Singaporeans. It was seriously succulent and this “dry” version is a pleasant alternative to the ones at home drizzled in very salty black pepper sauce. We were licking our fingers after this one…

I have always liked chilli crab but I don’t dream about it. Honestly I am so used to my mum’s (she cooks this dish every weekend or every other weekend — so decadent, I know) sambal version. For those not familiar with Singapore cuisine, the sauce above is a sticky, non-spicy version mixed with egg. My mum’s recipe is a droolicious mélange of red chilli, lemon grass, peanuts, egg, crab roe and other secret spices. We were all stuffed so one little crab leg was left. Gleefully, I asked for it to be doggie-bagged (or da bao in Singlish) for the kangaroo.

Dessert was a fruit platter but it was entirely in the vein of modern Japanese cuisine — we each had a morsel of very expensive pineapple, papaya, and passion fruit (huh?). The bill was JPY5,500 (SGD74) each which is reasonable considering the food we had was quite exotic and had ingredients that were hard to get. Well, mainly sambal. I would go back again, especially to try the lunch menu, which includes mee goreng and hokkien mee.

Just a short expat reflection on doing away with familiar traditions or modifying them. A couple of my Singaporean friends who live overseas say that they don’t miss Chinese New Year at all — particularly if they have to give out ang paos (red packets with money — usually to kids and old folks).

True, there are some aspects of it I don’t care much for: firstly, my extended family is not close-knit so conversation always runs dry and awkward after a while. They are very conservative Chinese folks who don’t really like speaking English so it has always been very hard for my sisters and I to get along well with our cousins. I almost always get asked, “When do you graduate from university? Oh, you started working? So big already!” (Now that I am screaming towards the big 3-0, that ain’t such a bad thing…)

Just a bit of history: my father is the youngest among his siblings so my sisters and I have always been seen as the babies of the whole family so we don’t seem to grow up in their eyes. I mean, sometimes, they still call us by our toddler names (ming ming for my elder sister, yu yu for me, and ai ai for my younger sister) – the horror — but I’d like to believe we look much younger than our actual ages.

Chinese New Year snacks are chalky biscuity things that I never crave. Gambling never holds my attention for long and the only game my relatives play is mahjong. I tried to learn it before but I haven’t played it for real.

On the other hand, I would open my ang paos with glee as a kid and as an adult (haha!) and in more recent years I took the opportunity to talk to my sisters more as we never really saw each other much, especially when I moved out and my elder sister got married. The one thing I totally feel nostalgic for is the reunion dinner. My mum and Yati would prepare the most awesome seafood hot pot whose leftovers would last for a week. The broth would get thicker and tastier with each further brew…. Mmmm… And somehow everyone would be extra cheerful and chatty on this day and the dogs would prance around the table legs to nip at any stray raw meat.

Though I live in a new country, I think I should still carry on some part of this tradition or at least create my own. I’m happy the kangaroo is around in Tokyo so we can have our own reunion dinner. We invited some friends to Hong Kong Teahouse Restaurant, a classy dim sum joint, in Roppongi Hills. Last year, a friend from Singapore came to visit during Chinese New Year so we headed to this same restaurant. I don’t think it has to be the same restaurant but I’ll try to make it a point to have a Chinese meal on this day of the year with loved ones overseas. I’m truly a Chinesey gal at heart — I’m so excited about stuffing my face with authentic Cantonese food that I am blogging about it.

I realise it’s been a very long time since I had a whole day to explore Tokyo. Saturdays, as you know, are for teaching and maybe dinner with friends or with the kangaroo if he’s in town. Sundays… my mind draws a blank as to what my Sunday routine is. I might go to brunch with Adrian and Kazuko, chat online with a friend, or go for a run and wind down with cooking some dinner. Boring, eh?

So today, I put on my tourist hat and trundled out of the shoebox. There has been some buzz about a new shopping mall in Ginza, called Marronnier Gate, where there is a new Singaporean restaurant, Raffles Terrace. Determined to get a laksa fix, I decided it would be my first stop for the day.

Unfortunately, I must’ve gone out of the wrong exit from the station and all I could see was the whole eight blocks of Ginza stretching beyond what the eye could see. Mitsukoshi, Matsuya, Matsuzakaya…and many others. I think I encountered many shopping malls but not Marronnier. It struck me that there must be 10 Orchard Roads in Ginza alone. Sprawling and crowded, the Ginza even has roads closed off just for shoppers to wander about on Sundays.

It’s amazing how designer brands have their own buildings in Japan — check out Porsche and Dolce & Gabbana. These are just two out of a veritable sea of designer names. I spied Sonia Rykiel, Anna Sui, Coach, Dior… And Apple…

Sorry, I couldn’t take the whole building, but believe you me, it sure stood out with its matte space-age silver façade — impressive and cool.

After reading a fascinating article on how perfume is marketed, I plunged into a bit of sniffing at Mitsukoshi but grew shy as the eager sales staff jabbered away in rapid-fire Japanese and I felt obligated to buy something. But I didn’t, though a bottle of Coco Chanel, was beckoning. As it’s a fairly mature scent, I decided I would only get it if I hit 30. Hey, that’s one more year.

Obviously, I didn’t make it to the Singaporean restaurant. I decided it was a daggy idea in the first place. I thought I wanted something familiar but somehow my mood switched to one more adventurous. It was about 3pm and my stomach was grumbling with hunger so I turned a corner and popped into the first Japanese joint — a waygu beef soba restaurant. What luck!

At first, I thought the serving was a tad small but it was just perfect. I certainly agree with the Japanese approach to food — never over-indulge and take your time. While I perused an article about a very errant Britney in the latest Allure magazine, I savoured tender, wafer thin slices of waygu beef in a subtle, savoury broth with slippery buckwheat noodles. I was floored by such a simple dish. It’s really all about the depth of flavours brewed from natural and fresh ingredients.

Not knowing what I ordered was a lunch set, I was surprised by an additional coffee and macha ice-cream as dessert. They came in Thumbalina-sized table ware — kawaii, ne. The pretty chopsticks I used were mine to take home, said the friendly waitress. This restaurant is affiliated to a traditional Japanese gift shop a few floors above. So unique, huh?

With a satisfied tum, I wandered the streets of Ginza and stumbled upon a bookstore where I bought last year’s JLPT Level 4 exam questions and answers. The kangaroo and I have a bet — whoever scores lower has to buy this year’s tickets to Sydney. I am so going to beat him, I smugly thought, as I purchased the book. I have a secret weapon now.

Another tidbit: women here love collagen. They are sold in tins of powder where you are supposed to stir into a hot drink and gulp the fishy concoction everyday. Ew. They also have it in energy drinks, supplements, wellness potions and now mineral water.

It’s probably what I would call a I Love Japan Day where I feel lucky to live in such a quirky, interesting city.

What will all the expat Singaporeans do without….Prima?!

So far, I’ve tried laska — pretty authentic — but of course mine tastes a little strange. I realised the fish cakes here aren’t made of fish. The closest thing I could find was a deep fried patty full of flour and vegetable bits. When I bit into it, I was horrified — it was mushy! Gross…

For my next bout of homesickness, I made hainanese chicken rice. An absolute disaster. Even if I followed the right steps, I think the flavours just tasted wrong — the sauce was too thick and the soup was nowhere near the clear broth you get. It had a chock full of stale veggies in a salty stock.

Today, I tried my hand at hokkien mee. It’s pretty much up there with the laksa pre-mix. I used hollow spaghetti and replaced the fish cakes with plain tofu. The end result was a light pasta filled with asian flavours. The prawn stock provided is quite authentic but I think the lack of fish sauce, bean sprouts and yellow mee has a lot to do with why it was a bit weird. Still, I am licking my chops from the sambal chilli. I wish I could have more tiny red chilli to add to my food here. So Singaporean hor?

If I were a doubutsu (an animal) in a pretty manga forest, I would probably starve to death. At the conviene (convienient store), I tend to forage for different things to eat since my onigiri overdose. So the AMPMs, Family Marts and Seven Elevens are like my urban forest where I search for sustenance.

After going back to familiar sandwiches, chips and chocolate, I thought should be more gutsy. I’m a fan of Japanese food!

The light green shade of this melon pan (melon-flavoured bread) made my taste buds drool. The problem was, I didn’t know it had melon in it, in fact, I somehow had this illusion of lotus paste wedged amidst its fluffy softness.

After a bite, I felt like I was poisoned. I wanted to brush my teeth. My neighbours in class asked me: “What’s that smell? Oh…it’s a melon pan. Money not well-spent?”

I threw this shite away.

I would hate to leave Akasaka and have been consciously searching for new apartments in this area but it’s seriously an expensive place to live in if you want bigger digs.

Besides being intimate with the Starbucks nearby, I’ve become a regular at the local kusuriya (pharmacy in Japanese), the supermarket (the old dude here has butter fingers and we have a giggle when he drops my change or pulls out one too many plastic bags), MacDonald’s, the dry cleaners, foreign food store Yamaya, a pizza take-away in Nogizaka and now…. A ramen place up the road from where we live.

The décor has an industrial modern look and the piped jazzy electronica makes this feel more like a chic boutique or hair salon than a ramen shop. I couldn’t get enough of the thick porky broth and the delicately handmade noodles. The portions are not overwhelming either like some places so I felt 100 per cent satisfied.

On the expensive side, one bowl is at least 700 yen and it has a restaurant layout, as opposed to the more traditional counter-style joints. This is my first time here but I’m sure I’ll pop by more often. They also have takeout options, which are 200 yen cheaper than if you have a sit down meal. Coolio.

As you can see, I’m on a food roll. I’ve actually been to several izakayas and restaurants in Tokyo, especially during those hash sessions. But I never had the time to carefully dissect and appreciate the food as I’m busy talking to other people. After a hard hour’s run, I can’t be bothered to take pictures of the food and interior. The bad thing about this is, I don’t ever remember their names and only have vague memories of where they are located.

On a leisurely Friday night, the kangaroo and I met up with Mike, one of his best mates in Tokyo. Mike just started his own creative agency here and has been extremely busy. I think the last time we saw him was before Christmas. He chose Topkapi, a Moroccan restaurant, in Omotesando.

Anyway, I expected Moroccan food to be heavy on meat. It is, but in Tokyo, the servings are small. For starters, we shared pita bread, sautéed prawns in garlic and olive oil (more Italian in flavour methinks) and spicy chicken spring rolls that came out as samosa shaped deep friend triangles with a heap of cinnamon powder sprinkled on top.

The mains were a juicy rosemary marinated chicken and various kinds of kebabs. The smoky taste that is common in Middle Eastern fare was a delightful change from the soy-based flavours I have everyday here. A bottle of wine here is 3,600 yen on average, which is actually fairly pricy by Tokyo standards. Here, you can get a bottle of Jack Daniels at Yamaya for only 1,600 yen.

This chic restaurant is tucked away in a small lane nearer to the Aoyama side. The inside was full so we sat al fresco but the tent had plastic blinds to shield us from the chilly wind.

Anyway, it feels good to know more and more different places to go to. I think it’s essential to the familiarization process when you are settling into a new country. Yay.

Staying home on a Friday night never sits well with most people. Hell, I bet lots of you do but you won’t admit it. I used to stay home on Friday nights while I was busting my arse at a certain publishing house. Standing around at a hip bar in heels with martini in hand while pretending to be interested in the men your friends are cruising wears thin quickly when you’re exhausted. For me, Saturday nights were meant for dressing up, heading out and eating well.

I don’t have the exhaustion of a full-on week but I thought I would try to get some work done so my weekend would be free to explore Tokyo and hang out with a few new friends I’ve made here.

One thing I love is cooking and trying my hand at Jap recipes is always a fun thing to do at home. Tonight was udon in miso soup with shitake mushies, baby tomatoes, golden mushies, unspicy green Jap chillies, a poached egg, minced beef, topped with a dash of sesame oil and mirin (Jap seasoning rice wine). I’ve been trying to get my hands on some dashi, a fishy type of seasoning that is produced in tiny grain form, to make more authentic Jap noodle soup but I’m quite happy with my version so far.

Speaking of bastardising food, I made a discovery on Wednesday. After the hash run, one of the American guys, Balding, complained about the beer, “This is not beer, it’s hopushu. It tastes terrible!” Apparently, hopushu looks and tastes like beer but is not classified as beer because a few crucial steps in the brewing process are skipped. In the past, the producers of hopushu can’t be taxed like they would be for beer, because in theory, hopushu is not beer. I took a sip and it sure as hell tasted like it, but was a tad thinner and rough on the tastebuds. Now hopushu is taxed as much as beer, so these alcoholic beverage companies come up with funky variations to get around heavy taxes. The latest one being advertised is a green pea beer-like alcoholic drink. Ew. I stuck to my umeshu (plum wine) soda.

On the social front, one the guys from the hash emailed me to ask if I wanted to hang out on the weekend. No fixed plans yet and may not happen but I felt so happy because I thought I was getting nowhere in making friends in this group. They are friendly peeps but they are already a clique in many ways so it’s natural that it takes time to “break the code” so to speak.

A lot has been said of this famous Tokyo icon — Piss Alley. It’s a labyrinth of tiny yakitori restaurants that can seat only up to 10 people at a go. I’ve been here twice already. The first was with Sue when she was in town and last Sunday, we met up with my friend Paul and his wife Serena, who were in Tokyo for two nights. They were touring Japan for two weeks. I’ve never met his wife but she’s a great gal to chat with. Mr. D enjoyed talking to Paul.

I met Paul at a Channel 12 pow-wow yonks ago when I was working for a certain women’s magazine. Trapped near the coffee counter, I was dying inside of boredom because I didn’t know a single person, except for a rival magazine’s editor, who was in a snappish mood. As I shifted my weight from foot to foot, a friendly voice said, “Hi, I’m Paul from Canadian Pizza. Nice to meet you. You are?”

It started from there. We kept in touch loosely and talked about our partners. It’s rare to talk to someone who is not girlfriend and we hit it off quite well. Once in a while we’d meet for lunch and before I knew it, he’s in Tokyo with his gal and we’re laughing and talking in a tiny hole-in-the-wall Japanese eatery in Shinjuku.

Can I say I love yakitori. The buffet of barbecued meat chunks and mushies on sticks make me drool. You can choose teriyaki or salt and pepper marinade – I prefer salt ‘n’ pepper where you can savour the real flavour of the food. My top faves are golden mushrooms wrapped in bacon, chicken wings, chicken with leeks, emperor mushrooms, lady’s fingers and quail eggs. Paired with plum wine soda, I was a happy bunny. At 5,000 yen a head, it was a bit expensive. I probably wouldn’t go back there often for yakitori but it’s also the experience of the dark, smoky alley that bustles with tons of peeps.