Relentless forays into the world of classic and contemporary Japanese cooking

According to economic theory, most assets fall into one of two categories: fixed or consumable. My wok is a fixed asset; my supply of Lindt 70% dark chocolate is alarmingly consumable. So far so good.
We then get to crockery and the boundaries start to blur. Being a certified klutz, when I buy bowls/plates/mugs, it’s with a calm Zen-like detachment and full acceptance that at some point in the future I’ll be sweeping up ceramic shards into a waiting bundle of newspaper. It may be tomorrow, it may be in 10 years time, but it will come.
Over the past few years, I’ve totalled: a matching set of four cat-embossed glasses, several plates, one lovely glass tumbler (Tescos, thank goodness), my flatmate’s irreplaceable mug, and more than a few pint glasses.
So it was sad but unsurprising, when, after having used my new chawan-mushi cups (pictured above) for the first time, I turned around, caught my elbow on the spoon resting in an empty cup, and sent the whole thing tumbling towards the ground. One down, one to go, I thought, with a weariness born of years of crockery-loss.
So: chawan-mushi. Tsuji translates this as ‘savoury egg custard’, which frankly sounds pretty unsavoury to me. Last time I tried this description, my friend thought it was a dessert and was subsequently rather put-off. Then again, “a delicate steamed egg-jelly-tofu-kinda-thing that’s not made with tofu at all” doesn’t really cut it either. If anyone has a better suggestion, do let me know.
Crockery: Use any small bowl/cup that you’re happy to subject to steaming. I’ve used Japanese green-tea cups in the past. The thicker the cup, the longer it takes to cook. You can also use a bain-marie (in oven at 220°C, 30 minutes) instead of steaming.
Steaming arrangements: For a make-shift steamer, I use a large pot or wok with an upturned shallow bowl in the bottom (to act as a platform), pour water around the bowl, then put a plate on top. Tada, steamer. Don’t forget the lid.
Measurements: The key to the recipe below is the 3:1 stock-to-beaten-egg ratio.
Taste: Taste the stock before you add it to the egg. For the first time, I’d recommend erring on the side of under- rather than over-flavouring — a too-salty chawan-mushi is a trial to eat, while if under-flavoured you can pretend that you have uber-refined tastebuds.
Variations: The recipe below is just for a plain chawan-mushi (because I’m lazy). It’s common to add in small pieces of chicken, prawn, and vegetables such as sliced mushrooms, before steaming.
Recipe: Chawan-mushi
Based on recipe from Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art by Shizuo Tsuji
Serves 4
Prep time: 5 minutes
Cooking time: 20 minutes
Ingredients
Beat the eggs ’til completely mixed but not frothy.
In another bowl/jug, mix the dashi, mirin, soy sauce, and salt. Pour this stock mixture into the beaten egg, and mix well. Strain this mixture. You don’t want any froth/foam in the final mixture (for appearance’s sake), so skim off any bubbles.
Pour strained mixture into individual cups. Add any extra ingredients (chicken, prawn, veg) at this point.
Cover each cup with foil or plastic wrap and place in the already-hot steamer. The steamer should be on low/medium heat – if too hot, unattractive bubbles will form in the chawan-mushi. [On my electric hob, I use the 3rd setting (out of 6). Experiment.] Steam for 20 minutes.
To check that it’s cooked, insert a toothpick into the centre – it should come out clean if cooked. [Personally, I just make an extra serving, and destroy it with a spoon to check.]
Serve hot or fridge-cold.
Relentless forays into classic and contemporary Japanese cooking. Coming to you from a kitchen in London.
Classic Japanese - Food cooked by your Japanese grandma.
Contemporary Japanese - Food served in restaurants you can't afford.
Keep it simple. Breathe. Don't forget the soy sauce.
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