This is one of the first things I learned to make. Our housekeeper, Sueko, taught me using the kind of Japanese rice that by law is never exported from Japan. The rice was ritualistically rinsed seven times to clear its surface starch, which never became 100% clear. That was the part I didn't like. At eleven years of age I simply did not have the patience for it. Nevertheless, I obediently rinsed and continued to do that even after switching to American rice that has much less surface starch. I only recently wised up.
Double the water to rice is slightly too much water. Equal amount plus + 1/2 the amount of water to rice is slightly too little water. Therefore, one cup of rice takes 1 + 3/4 cup water. Maths! Sueko used a one-knuckle measuring system, basically 1 inch water above the level of rice in the pot, but that whole thing changes depending on the size of the pot used to the amount of rice in that pot. You can see how a small amount of rice in a large pot will throw off the one-knuckle method. Thank you, Sueko, bless your heart, but your system does not work for me anymore. Especially now that my finger bones grew.
The starch in rice (and pasta and potatoes) strengthens the bubbles of boiling water which causes them to build up without popping as ordinary un-strengthened water bubbles would do, so they tend to fill the pot and pour over the edge, even lifting the lid slightly, to make a mess of the outside surface of the pot, the stove, and create havoc and a mess in the kitchen. That can be prevented when steaming rice by preparing a diaper an apron a gasket of sorts from a paper towel. It takes a bit of elementary origami.
This is how you turn an ordinary pot into a rice steamer. It is what people did before rice steamers were invented. Japanese people love rice steamers because they remove the need to pay attention to timing and because they make rice pretty much every day. The steamers cycle through high heat to get the water boiling, a period of low heat just enough to keep the steam going, and a period of no heat wherein residual steam continues to carry over, and then the machine signals the rice is completed. Is that so hard to do yourself? Honestly.
The water in the pot is brought to a boil with the lid off. The heat cut to low as the stove will go and the lid put on the pot, not to be lifted until both steam cycles are completed lest the steam escape and the process aborted. The rice tends to stick to the bottom of the pot as it boils, so it must be stirred and loosened before the lid put on the pot and that is your last chance to stir it. After that, no touching it until both timed cycles are completed. At that point the stove will already be off and you will want to lift the lid to halt residual steaming or else risk the rice becoming overcooked.
So, for the first cycle on low, after the water is brought to a boil and the steam is going, set the stove on low as it will go and the timer to twenty-five minutes.
I have another timer that I picked up at the dollar store. It is basically a bell in the shape of a chicken. I call it Isabell because it ... is a bell.
The first cycle on low finishes.
Ding!
Or in the case of the built-in stove timer, ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding, it is so annoying, ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding, it literally forces you to go to the stove and see to it, ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding, it will not stop until you shut it off.
Turn off the heat and resist the urge to check progress. Trust that the rice is still steaming and progressing according to plan. Can you just trust? Huh? Can you? If you have nosey-noopers around who like to lift lids then you will want to consider fashioning a little warning sign from an index card or something. Perhaps like this:
That should do it. Set the timer to 10 minutes.
Ding!
The rice is done. You can now remove the warning card and lift the lid. Fluff the rice. Inhale its steamy rice cooked grainy goodness. Brown rice takes longer, of course, but the aroma is even more alluring.
So. You had there thirty-five minutes to get on with other things; fold the laundry, clean the dog run, pick the burrs off your hiking socks, retrieve the laced shoes tossed over the power line, search each other for ticks, or maybe you could use the time constructively to prepare the shrimp, wasabi, and a light sweet/sour sauce for the rice.
About the shrimp. Use large. I do not know what the number is. The shrimp they sell at Sam's club are too large. Medium size shrimp is too small. I prefer unprepared raw shrimp that is not deveined. This shrimp is on the small size, so I made the rice balls on the small size too. This shrimp is deveined and although that is more convenient, it puts a slash on the top side of the shrimp whereas we need a slash on the bottom of the shrimp. So these shrimp are going to look silly when spread open. If the shrimp you choose is completely unprepared you will want to devein them from the underside, not the top side as they do commercially. This approach also cuts through the fibers that curl the shrimp. Because these shrimp are already cut on the top side, if I were to cut them again on the bottom I would risk cutting all the way through and dividing each shrimp in half. Not a disaster, but it would depart quite far from what ebi sushi is supposed to look like, and they already look silly because the shrimp is not laying flat like they should and curve around the rice ball.
Cook the shrimp as minimally as possible. Bring the water to a boil, cut the heat, add the shrimp to the hot water that is not boiling and then stand there and WATCH IT. The shrimp cooks through in just a few minutes. When the fibers change from translucent to opaque, then immediately rinse them in cold water to halt the cooking. A toothpick was inserted into these shrimp because I was unable to cut the bottom fibers that allow the live shrimp to contract when alive and swimming. If I had overcooked this shrimp they would have contracted even with a straightening toothpick in them, and that is not wanted. If your shrimp curls, then you cooked it too long. These shrimp heated for three minutes in hot water, and in my world that is perfect. Others disagree with me on this, but they are flatly wrong, and that is why I never cook shrimp for other people. There are too many totally wrong complainy-ass people out there to bother with their incredibly uninformed discomfort. Sad, innit.
One tablespoon sugar, two tablespoons rice vinegar.
I used water this time, in the method of a caramel, I do not think all that is necessary. I wanted the sugar to color slightly before adding the vinegar. It was sort of a pain in the butt. Maybe add a little water to account for evaporation and cook until dissolved. Maybe a golden tinge is not so important.
Stand back when you add the vinegar because POW does it ever hit you right in the face. The sudden vinegar cloud can take your breath away.
The common wasabi found in those green tins is made from inexpensive American horseradish and colored green with spinach. Genuine wasabi is milder, not nearly as sharp or harsh, gentle by comparison, but it still packs a wallop that will ream your nasal passage when you have a careless intake. I love that. It is what I live for. You can get this wasabi dried from real plants at specialized spice shops. It is rather expensive. Or you can buy it here.
The plant, wasabia japonica, is a persnickety thing to grow. It is a mountain river plant. It grows at altitude, in humidity, along clear running fresh water, at specific and narrow temperature range. It's a perfect bitch of plant to farm. Nevertheless, a few American farmers are up to the challenge. Their techniques are proprietary. It involves hydroponics and strictly controlled conditions. You can buy a rhizomes and give it a go yourself. In fact, you can even buy their proprietary farming systems and start wasabi production yourself.
Or you can buy a tin of harsh American fake-o horseradish wasabi like everybody else in the universe, even Japanese restaurants. It's up to you.
I added chile de arbol because I still haven't put away the little bag of chiles, and they do seem to go with everything.
Okay.
☑ rice cooked
☑ sweet / sour coating for rice
☑ wasabi prepared
☑ shrimp cleaned, butterflied, cooked
☒ nori cut into strips
I sense a plan coming together in its final phase. You can see how the sweet/sour sauce, the shrimp, the wasabi, all take only a few minutes each, and can all be ready in the time the rice is finished its slow steady steaming.
Now the rice is flavored and the components are ready for assemblage.
The hands are dampened so that the rice does not stick to them. A single rounded tablespoon of rice is scooped into the palm of the hand at the base of the fingers. The rice wad is clamped in the curve of the hand using two finger of the other hand, and squeezed, so it is a two-handed deal, or more a one-handed + two-finger deal. Do not smash to forceful compression. The idea is to get all the grains to cohere into a ball without damaging the rice grains and without compressing so tightly that a rice-brick is formed. Make the sort of thing you want to eat -- a gently compressed rice ball. The elongated ball has the indentation of your fingers. Correct that by turning the compressed wad of rice and re-smashing in the opposite direction to smooth the indentions. This does take a bit of practice. In Japan, sushi chefs actually have a competition wherein the chefs create a number of elongated rice balls, then a separate team takes the rice balls apart and counts the individual grains of rice. The chef that comes closest to producing the balls most similar by grain count wins the competition. Is that extreme or what? Try to form yours to be the same size. Make them the size that fits the size of the shrimp you selected, the size suitable for the children you are feeding, the size appropriate for hors d'oeuvres, the size that's right for Grandma's problem dentures, the size that fits in Julia Robert's big fat mouth, a woman who can stick her own fist into her incredible gaping maw, FACT, I saw her do it once, and I've never since been able to look at Julia Roberts without thinking of that. She could eat an ebi in one bite.
Ordinarily I wrap the shrimp with a band of nori, but I omitted that step tonight because tonight I didn't feel like dealing with the texture of nori. I notice that restaurants skip this step too. The black band is very attractive and artistic, though, and I do sort of miss it, but it is entirely an aesthetics thing, they make a prettier picture, besides, when I have a desire to consume that processed algae I can add it soups and such any time.
Conclusion: needs more chile flakes, and possibly another alternate sweet sauce to counter the salty shoyu.
No comments:
Post a Comment