Bitter Melon & Eggplant

 I don’t like brown food.  Which is unfortunate given that most Japanese country food is flavored with miso or soy sauce and therefore cast with a brownish hue.  While I did come to Japan because of the food, I was mainly pulled by the startling freshness of sushi and the restorative calm of the sushi bar.  The funny thing is, traditional sushi marries raw fish with sweet vinegared rice and vegetables don’t really come into play.  But I love the vivid colors of farm vegetables:  red tomatoes, bloody beets, orange peppers, bright green lettuce, deep green spinach…these are the colors and flavors that excite my mouth.  These are the colors and flavors I crave. Japanese revere white rice.  And that makes sense when you consider this preponderance of brown and reliance on fish.  Rice is the meal and everything else served just an accompaniment to that pristine bowl of luminescent grains.

A couple weeks ago my husband was making tsumami to go with drinks before dinner.  Japan has some really amazing attitudes on liquor that veer between the extremely lax (letting children buy alcohol for the parents at the corner store) or traditionally conservative (as a single woman, I was served alcohol, as a married woman, often not).  But the custom that makes the most sense is that you always, always serve food with drinks.  And I don’t mean bar snacks like pretzels or peanuts.  Whenever we used to go out, my Japanese friends would order full on hors d’œuvres:  from broiled meats to fried foods to salads to sashimi.  And at home we do the same.  We never have a drink without food. 

That night, Tadaaki was making abura miso and champuru.  Champuru is probably one of my most favorite things that Tadaaki makes.  It is made from a vegetable popular in Okinawa: goya, though in English it’s dubbed “bitter melon.”  Goya looks more like a cucumber than a melon, and has the texture of a hard zucchini.  It was the end of the season, so Tadaaki picked our last ones.  He collected a basket of eggplant from the field as well.  Champuru combines four tastes into an explosive finale:  bitter (goya), sweet (egg), hot (red pepper) and salt.  I had some Dashe Riesling open that night and the slightly sweet fruit quelled the fire.   Christopher and I stood around the counter pinching up bright green and yellow mounds of champuru with our chopsticks as soon as Tadaaki turned it into the waiting pottery bowl.  But Tadaaki was still at work.  This time making abura miso.  By the time that was done, I had eaten my fill of champuru, and despite Christopher’s urging, decided to take a break.  Christopher moaned with pleasure as he stood over the quickly dwindling bowl of steaming abura miso.  Tadaaki offered a small cup of atsukan (warm sake) and he accepted.  No driving that night.

Last night Tadaaki made dinner:  Miso soup with clams, abura miso and a pot of niimono:  chunks of potatoes, Satsuma age halves (pounded fish cakes), slivered ginger, thinly sliced beef and beef tendons simmered in soy sauce flavored water.  I boiled some fall edamame for the green, but was really craving yaki niku teishoku at the local ramen shop (an irresistible concoction of quick sautéed pork served with raw egg, chile paste and green onion).  Again Christopher urged me to try the abura miso.  Tadaaki had sliced up some Japanese eggplants and sautéed them in sesame oil with red pepper and ginger.  Once the eggplant slices were shiny and soft he gently tossed in a mixture of sake and miso, stirring carefully as he coated the slices evenly, without breaking them apart or smashing them.  I yielded to pressure and picked up a few slices with my chopsticks.  They were hot, creamy and subtly salty.  The miso’s haunting salty/sweet character combines well with the melting eggplant.  The sake serves to give balance.  No sugar is necessary because farm vegetables are flavorful and naturally sweet.  Like Christopher a few weeks before, I couldn’t stop scooping up more and more mouthfuls from the bowl.  But I also took a couple handfuls of edamame.  It’s all about balance.   And I still went to the ramen shop.  I’m not fond of brown, and that night, the dinner was brown.

Christopher is 18 and doesn't understand why I sometimes don’t eat dinner with the family.  I try to explain, but it’s hard for him to hear.  What I eat keeps me sane.  Although I love our life, I didn’t choose to live in Japan, and there are many aspects of life here over which I have no control.  But I can control what I eat and I just don’t feel like eating something solely to avoid deviation from the group.  This is my last bastion.  So when Tadaaki and the boys are eating Curry Rice or some other food that leaves me feeling indifferent, I just choose to make something bright and simple, often a salad or a sandwich.  Because that’s what makes me happy and that’s what keeps me sane.

Champuru

Slice bitter melon in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds with a spoon.  Cut off ends and slice into 5mm half-rounds.  Tear two dried red chile peppers (Japanese or Arbol) into 2 or 3 pieces and reserve in a small bowl.  Break 2 farm eggs into another bowl and whisk with a fork or chopsticks.   Heat a little dark sesame oil in an iron stir fry pan, drop chile peppers into the hot oil.  Add bitter melon slices and toss until no longer raw.  Mix in beaten egg and a little salt.  Toss quickly as the egg curds form.  Turn into a bowl and eat hot.

Comments

[Rodney Fong]

As you can tell, I love reading your blogs, as it is a way for me to connect some local culture back to the roots of where it came. I now get the "pupu" (Hawaiian for non-fancy hors d'ouevres) concept that is prevalent in bars and parties, where drinking is combined with eating. Some of the best food in Hawaii is found at these pupu bars, like Side Street Inn, a bar where lots of local chefs congregate at the end of the night to drink and eat. Typical Hawaiian pupus will range from sashimi and poke (Hawaiian raw fish) to Korean short ribs, seasoned edamame, boiled peanuts, string beans and spam, and the like. Simple, good food, sometimes creative, but a prerequisite when drinking, alcoholic or non.

I love your imagery and descriptive prose. Makes me feel like I can see, feel, hear and touch what you're writing about. But sorry, bitter melon is not a favorite of mine, neither is eggplant. My wife loves it, though, and yes, it must be brown.

In response to your last reply, where the best food in Hawaii is purely preferential. I think that you are the first to mention that you heard Kauai is best. Each island is unique and similar at the same time. All islands have their local food and culturally influenced food. I guess to a visitor, cuisine may be able to be differentiated a little better, as we don't see each island as totally unique. But one thing is certain, there is good food everywhere, especially if you are adventurous.