April 2009 Archives

Mom's Legendary Caramel Corn

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caramel corn


My parents have been in town all this week. That's bad for quiet blogging time, but good for eating well. This trip they brought with them my mom's legendary recipe for caramel corn.

The correct popcorn is key. Flavorings are out, and microwaved popcorn doesn't seem to hold the caramel in the same way. The best results come from buying a bag of popcorn kernels and popping them in an honest-to-goodness popcorn popper. I've used an air popper with great results (and it can do double duty as a coffee roaster.)

Caramel Corn
Serves: a small party (about 6 quarts worth)
Special equipment: a popcorn popper

  • 1 ¼ c. unpopped popcorn kernels, makes ~6 qts cooked
  • 1 c. butter
  • 2 c. brown sugar
  • ½ c. corn syrup (light or dark)
  • 1 t. salt
  • ½ t. baking soda
  • 1 t. vanilla

Cook up your popcorn in a pan or air popper. Once it's done popping, transfer the cooked popcorn to a pan and keep it warm in a 300 degree oven.

Meanwhile, melt margarine in a saucepan. Stir in brown sugar, corn syrup, and salt. Bring to a boil stirring constantly then boil without stirring for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in ½ t. baking soda and 1 t. vanilla. Pour over popped corn mixing well. Turn into 2 large shallow baking pans. Bake in 250 oven for 1 hour stirring every 15 minutes.

Remove from oven and cool. Store in an airtight container.

Re-post: Guava-Glazed Ham

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Several people have pulled me aside this past week, asking for a ham recipe as they plan ahead to an Easter meal. Whether or not you celebrate the day, this is a good recipe to keep at hand for when you want a tropical twist on an traditional favorite: guava-glazed ham.

I'm off-island at the moment, but will be back by the middle of next week with more to share. Malama pono, a hui hou.

Reiko

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Reiko


I lean in as she speaks, struggling to keep up. Even though my mother-in-law has lived in the United States for more than forty years, her heavy accent still gives trouble even to her own (American-born) children. Reiko, or "Grandma" as she's known in our house, was born and raised in Osaka, Japan. It wasn't until an American GI swept her off her feet that she left home for the first time. Except for brief trips back to visit family, she's lived in the United States ever since.

Can you imagine the kind of love that compels you to leave everything and marry into a foreign culture? She was a proper Japanese girl, and he was an African-American soldier from the South. Despite their differences, they found a common ground that resulted in marriage and three beautiful children.

Crossing cultures required compromises. Over time, Grandma's cooking gradually adapted to suit the tastes of her new husband, combining a bit of both Japan and the South. It wasn't unusual to serve both okonomiyaki and collard greens at the same table. Now that her husband has passed, Grandma has retreated to the comfortable foods she knows best, the tastes of "home."

My wife Junko has been trying for years to get her mama to teach her Japanese cooking. The reply is almost dismissive, "Oh, you know how to make that." Stonewalled. However, since Grandma moved back to Hawaii four years ago, she seems willing, even eager, to teach me all the Japanese dishes she wouldn't share with her own daughter. The last time we swung by her condo for a visit, she thrust paper and pen into my hands, "You write this down. Tataki Kyuri."

The dish is so simple it hardly merits a recipe. Literally, tataki kyuri means "pounded cucumber." Simple, but delicious.

tataki kyuri
Tataki Kiuri
  • Japanese cucumber
  • salt
  • sesame oil

The exact quantities in the recipe are at your discretion.

Trim the ends off the cucumber then roll it under your palms to break up the inside "meat." Don't overdo it though. The cucumber should remain intact. Our goal is to separate and loosen the flesh, releasing the juices and sweetness.

Once the cucumber feels a little mushy, we're ready to move to the next step. Smack the cucumber with a pestle or rolling pin until it begins to break into pieces. Once it does, continue breaking it with your fingers into jawbreaker-sized chunks. Salt lightly and let sit for five minutes.

Remove the cucumber pieces to a bowl, discarding any juices that may have drained. Drizzle lightly with sesame oil and plate it. Really, that's all there is to it. Serve as a small side dish.