The Breakaway Japanese Kitchen
Eric Gower (Kodansha International)
Japanese and fusion are two cuisines that make me nervous. One is
daunting and the other usually a disaster. But the best new book
I've cooked from in months dabbles in both — edamame in mint
pesto; shiso with corn — and nothing is lost in translation.
"The Breakaway Japanese Kitchen" (Kodansha, $27) is by
Eric Gower, a self-trained San Francisco cook who lived in Japan
for 15 years and whose first cookbook was written in Japanese. Like
a photographer who knows his technique so well he will shoot out
of focus for greater effect, Gower takes Japanese ingredients and
concepts into territory undoubtedly never explored in Tokyo. Or
California.
Gower clearly is so comfortable with the flavors and traditions
of his second home that he can take a mad-scientist approach to
them and make every recipe work in a few steps and very little time.
Tofu baked with a pistachio-mint pesto is a combination that would
never occur to me, but it's one of the most amazing things ever
to come out of my oven.
This is not "Japanese Cooking for Dummies," although a
kitchen virgin would have no trouble mastering any of the 45 recipes,
each gorgeously photographed by Fumihiko Watanabe. One of the few
typical Japanese dishes is a twist on tonkatsu in which the breaded
pork cutlets are baked rather than fried. More often Gower borrows
concepts and tastes to produce Western food with just enough Eastern
exoticism.
His lively interpretation of coleslaw is dressed with ginger and
brown rice vinegar and garnished with roasted peanuts. His beet
salad is a wonderment with smoked trout, ginger and walnuts; his
pot roast is braised with soy sauce and orange (and a hint of very
un-Asian chipotle chile). The tofu recipes would convert a carnivore.
Even his rice is a hemisphere away from Uncle Ben's: He seasons
it with bay leaves and Dijon mustard and substitutes carrot juice
for water. With all those, you can forgive him for including the
requisite miso-glazed fish.
Gower has a thing for pesto, but he takes one of the most clichéd
concepts into another universe. His version made with ground dried
shiitakes and roasted almonds borders on brilliant. Like the other
reinterpretations, one with edamame and another with pistachios,
it was just as great as a sauce for steamed green beans and a spread
for bruschetta as it was on pasta.
"Breakaway" lives up to its title in other ways. It includes
no appetizers or desserts, and it makes a persuasive case for taking
as much care with the choice of serving bowls as with the food in
them. (A list of sources is included.) None of the recipes calls
for anything more exotic than shiso leaves, miso or brown rice vinegar,
all easily located in an Asian grocery. But the vinegar alone was
worth the detour: It's as smooth and deep as balsamic but tarter
and not as syrupy.
Not every one of Gower's
creations is a winner — potatoes with sake were soggy, for
instance — and yields are sometimes off. But those are quibbles.
After I cooked four dishes for a dinner party, one guest went out
the next morning to buy his own copy of the book.
At a time when originality seems to be the missing ingredient in
far too many cookbooks, "Breakaway" is a good cure for
the comfort-food blues.
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