Negima Yakitori

It has long been a dream of mine to go to Japan. In fact when planning this trip, Japan was one of only five “must-visit” countries on my list. Something about the country takes me back to my childhood, when I used to watch documentaries about miraculous robots, seemingly-impossible gadgetry and toilets with myriad bum-cleaning settings. Ostensibly, to my young eyes, it looked like a glimpse into the future. Sadly, times have changed and as technology companies have upped the stakes, that seemingly-impossible gadgetry I once saw on Blue Peter and the like, looks pretty mundane by comparison. 10 year old me would be more dazzled by the now ubiquitous iPhone than by a toilet with a built in bidet and heated seat. But there is still much to marvel at in Tokyo and nowadays I find myself more drawn to the ancient rituals, shrines and dazzling architecture.

To my suprise I was most struck, not by all the things that make Japan so different from the UK, but instead the overwhelming parallels. Depite the obvious geographical similarities (we’re both island nations etc.), I was amazed by how similar we are culturally. A country steeped in heritage and history, sitting merrily beside modern convenience. The importance of manners. How their seemingly controlled exteriors bely a wicked sense of humour and a prediliction for dirty jokes. They drive on the left hand side of the road. They queue. For everything. And they do so with grace and patience. Did you know most North Americans I’ve met don’t even know what the word queue means?

But one key difference was the food. To western palettes some of the things I tasted could be challenging. Even simple confections are turned on their head, with wasabi flavoured jellies, red bean flavoured kitkats and fish-shaped waffles (known as Taiyaki) filled with purple sweet potato among them. I did however seek out the more recognisable aspects of Japanese cuisine. In Shinjuku I visited a decades old restaurant that specialises in the art of tempura making. The chefs work in an open kitchen opposite a diner-like bench of seating. The tempura itself: feather light, with a melt-in-the-mouth quality that I have yet failed to reproduce. But in the district of Asakusa, I tasted one of the ultimate street foods – Yakitori. Nothing is more gloriously simple or simply portable than meat on a stick.

The term Yakitori sometimes gets misused here on restaurant menus. Yakitori is comprised of two characters, Yaki (焼き) meaning to grill and Tori (鳥) meaning chicken. Simple in concept but difficult to master, this style of cooking is extremely economical as it uses all the parts of the chicken, from typical cuts like breast and thigh, to more adventurous options like liver and heart. The cuts of meat are prepared, marinated and grilled on skewers over hardwood charcoal. When other foods are used, like beef, pork, fish or seafood, they are called Kushiyaki (串焼き) meaning “grilled skewers”. The marinade for Yakitori is often extremely simple, utilising fundamental Japanese condiments. Here I have used the marinade to create a glaze for basting, which is infused with some aromatics.

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Level: low
Methods: marinating, grilling

Time: 30 minutes (+ 2 hours marinating time minimum)
Makes: 12 skewers

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Ingredients
460g skinless, boneless chicken thighs
6tbsp soy sauce
4tbsp sake
4tbsp mirin
1tbsp caster sugar
6-8 spring onions, root and loose leaves removed
2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed with the heel of your hand
1tsp black peppercorns

12 bamboo skewers soaked in water

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Method

1. Open out the chicken thigh fillets and cut into small cubes (around 1-inch/2cm). Place in a bowl.

2. Combine the soy sauce, sake and mirin in a jug. Pour the sauce over the chicken and allow to marinate for a few hours.

3. When ready, chop the spring onions into quarters.

4. Thread the skewers alternatively with pieces of chicken thigh and the spring onion.

5. Pour the remaining marinade into a small pan. Add the remaining spring onions, the sugar, garlic cloves and peppercorns. Bring to a boil and allow to reduce by half to make a shiny glaze.

6. Preheat the grill to medium and place the skewers under the heat for 5-6 minutes, turning frequently. Baste with the reduced glaze after each turn.

7. When the glaze has started to burnish and the chicken is cooked through, remove from the grill and serve.

Lomo Saltado

Nasca is famous for one thing, the Nasca lines. But to focus on that one historical marvel does this little town a disservice. By day I will remember it for the duelling taxi men who shout at each other across the road like the warring gangs of West Side Story. I will remember the arid climate, that seldom became oppressive, even in this dessert town. I will remember the sheer number of touts and the incessant honking of the cars. But what I will remember most is how this little tourist town, comes alive at night. After dusk is a whole different story, when the many restaurants and bars are full of charmingly helpful characters, wanting to show you the best of Peruvian cuisine and share with you the delights of the national drink – Pisco Sours.

In one of these quaint eateries myself and my travel companion had our first taste of Lomo Saltado. This simplistic looking stir-fry is the very embodiment of the fusion cuisine for which Peru is known. The marinade for the tender cuts of fillet steak contains global condiments such as soy sauce (from East Asia), Worcestershire sauce (from the UK) and their very own grape brandy, Pisco. What is more bizarre, is that when you dive into the meat, surrounded as it is by large chunks of fresh tomato and red onion, you will find hidden beneath it’s glistening depths a cheeky portion of thick-cut chip shop style chips. All of this in addition to a side of seasoned rice. Carb overload, but a traditional treat none the less that can be enjoyed on (the rare) occasion.

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Level: medium
Methods: marinating
Skills: stir-fry in, deep-frying

Time: 1 hour 15 minutes (not including marinading time)
Makes: Serves 4

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Ingredients
For the marinade:
4 garlic cloves, chopped
5 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
2 tsp worcestershire sauce
½ tsp dried oregano
½ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp smoked paprika
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the lomo saltado and chips:
600g fillet steak, cut into 1½ inch cubes
vegetable oil, for frying
1 large red onion, cut into thick wedges
3-4 spring onions, split lengthways and cut into 2 inch batons
2 tomatoes, seeds removed and cut into eighths
1 red chilli, seeds removed and sliced lengthways
2 tsp pisco or brandy
25g fresh coriander, finely chopped
10g fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
600g maris piper potatoes, peeled, cut into chips
sunflower oil, for deep frying

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Method

1. For the marinade, mix all the ingredients together in a bowl with two tablespoons of water until well combined.

2. Add the meat to the bowl and mix so that it is well covered in the marinade. Cover with cling film and leave to marinate in the fridge for about four hours or overnight if you are organised enough.

3. When ready prepare the chips and rinse in a colander under plenty of cold water to remove excess starch. Pat dry with kitchen paper.

4. Heat a deep-fat fryer half-full of sunflower oil to 130C. Add the potatoes to the deep-fat fryer and fry for 10 minutes, or until softened.

5. Remove from the pan with a slotted spoon and set aside to drain on kitchen paper.

6. When ready to serve, reheat the oil to 190C. With a slotted spoon, lower all the par-cooked chips gently into the pan and cook for 4-5 minutes, or until crisp and golden-brown.

7. Remove from the pan with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper. Season with a little salt and keep warm while you cook the steak.

8. Drain the meat, reserving the marinade.

9. Heat the vegetable oil in a wok over high heat until just smoking and add the meat to the wok – be careful, it might splash.

10. Cook as quickly as possible, tossing it until the meat is browned on all sides.

11. Add the red onion wedges and spring onions. Cook for one minute.

12. Add the tomato and chilli and immediately pour in the pisco.

13. Pour over the reserved marinade and bring to a simmer. Turn off the heat and leave the meat to rest in the sauce for a couple of minutes.

14. Place the steak on top of the chips and garnish with chopped coriander and parsley.

Cochinita Pibil

After the breakneck pace of my Mexican tour thus far, I was happy to arrive in the idyllic town of Palenque. A modest, yet beautiful stop on our route, that skirted the edges of some bonafide Mexican jungle. There are many reasons why Palenque could potentially oust the competition, on its way to becoming my favourite location. It could have been the gorgeous waterfalls we visited on the way, where we supped rum poured directly into freshly cleavered coconuts. It could have been the local ruins, which to my mind were the most beautiful and intriguing of all those we visited. It could have been the barefoot trek through the jungle, where we hiked down waterfalls whilst howler monkeys and snakes rustled in the canopy above us. It could have been the long, pitch black walk back to our hotel on the second night where we witnessed shooting stars and I nearly walked face-first into a large tree. But being the rampant and unapologetic foodie I am, I would suggest that it is because outside of the ruins, served from a sun bleached cooler, by a little old local woman, was my ultimate Mexican food experience. Cochinita pibil.

Cochinita Pibil, in many regards shares a close familial bond with its now ubiquitous and overexposed American cousin, pulled pork. But to me Cochinita is so much more than that. The melting tender shreds of pork, still iridescent after bathing in their own juices during hours of slow cooking, is not coated with a cloyingly sweet barbecue sauce, but instead a fresh, tangy and delicately spiced marinade. Served in a softly yielding bun, it is topped with rich buttery avocado slices and acerbic fluorescently pink pickled onions. When I first sampled this sandwich I was blown away. This is not mere hyperbole folks, it was so good that every last person on the tour tasted one. Most of the guys ate two. I ordered another to take away. We were in such raptures that the dear old lady selling them looked distinctly embarrassed and somewhat uncomfortable with the praise we heaped upon her in our ineffectual broken spanish.

I knew immediately that this was a dish that I would have to reproduce and perfect. Below is the beta version. I have included only one ingredient this time that is difficult to acquire – the achiote paste. Achiote is known for its subtle heat, earthy flavours, woodsy aroma and shockingly orange/red colouration. You could substitute the achiote with 2tbsp paprika, 2tsp ground cumin and a pinch of saffron, but you would be doing my favourite dish a disservice. Do what you must, just don’t tell me.

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Level: high
Methods: rendering spices, marinating
Skills: braising

Time: 4.5 hours (plus overnight marinading)
Makes: Serves 6 hungry people

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Ingredients
For the marinade:
1tsp allspice berries
2tsp ground cumin seeds
½tsp cloves
1tsp peppercorns
100g achiote paste
3tbsp cider vinegar
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
3 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1tsp dried oregano
3 fresh bay leaves
2tbsp sea salt
3tbsp olive oil
juice of 6 oranges (about 450ml)

For the pork:
3kg neck of pork, cut into a few large pieces
1 Scotch bonnet pepper, deseeded and finely chopped
50g butter

To serve:
6 submarine rolls
2 red onions finely sliced
juice of 2 limes
2 avocados, thinly sliced

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Method

1. To make the marinade, warm the spices in a dry frying pan for a few minutes then grind to a fine powder using a pestle and mortar.

2. Place in a blender with the achiote, vinegar, onion, garlic, herbs, salt and olive oil and pulse to start breaking up the achiote.

3. Slowly pour in the orange juice with the motor running to get a smooth paste.

4. Pour about two-thirds of the marinade over the pork, ensuring it is thoroughly coated. Refrigerate overnight.

5. The remaining marinade can be frozen and used for a smaller meal. It tastes great with simply grilled chicken or pork chops.

6. Now to make the pickled red onions. Cover the sliced onions with boiling water and allow to sit for ten minutes.

7. Drain and cover with the lime juice. Refrigerate overnight to macerate fully.

8. The next day, preheat the oven to 130C.

9. Transfer the pork and its marinade into a large casserole dish and add the chopped chilli and butter. Bring to a simmer on a medium hob.

10. Cover with foil and a tight-fitting lid and cook slowly for 3-4 hours until the pork is soft and falling apart.

11. Allow to cool slightly.

12. Meanwhile remove your onions from the fridge and bring to room temperature. Slice your rolls and prepare your avocado (always do this last minute to prevent it from browning.)

13. Using two forks, pull apart the pork into soft uneven shreds. Stir back into the remaining sauce and juices.

14. Dollop some pork into each bun, top with avocado and the pink pickled onions.