Japan, 1984
Also, a wonderfully nutty oil. A great spring cracker. And a vintage menu for wine lovers.
I have very conveniently forgotten the name of the travel magazine I wrote this article for because I was so angry about the editing. The first paragraph was supposed to read, “Last year Japanese businesses spent 37 million dollars entertaining their clients. Every single day of the year.” The editor decided to get rid of the second line.
It still makes me furious. There is a huge difference between 37 million dollars and one billion three hundred and thirty million dollars. (Do I have the math right?)
He also excised the line about the proper ritual for paying for a kaiseki meal on the rare occasions when money actually changes hands. This involved going to the bank to secure new, consecutively-numbered bills which were then presented in a fancy gilded envelope. I found everything about the ceremony enchantingly foreign.
Still, I offer this vintage article because I’ve been thinking about Japan. When this pandemic ends and we are once again able to travel freely, it’s one of the places I most long to revisit.
Japan is very different now than it was in 1984. So are we. Bach then sea urchins were almost unknown in America and Kobe beef was far off on the horizon. We had started - very slowly - to eat sushi - but kaiseki cuisine was utterly unknown. The truth is, kaiseki cuisine, as practiced in Japan, is still a rarified and little understood experience.
The late Paul Prudhomme was the one who got me interested in the subject. He told me he’d just returned from Japan where he and his wife Kay had indulged in the most expensive meal of their lives. “It was poetry,” he said, “but it cost $1000 and neither of us drink alcohol.” (That would be almost $3000 in 2022 dollars.)
This was clearly much more than something to eat, and I longed to experience it for myself. But I had very little money, so the only way I could possibly afford a kaiseki meal was to find a magazine willing to foot the bill. Ergo the travel magazine with the idiot editor.
And speaking of exotic…. I’ve fallen in love with pecan oil. I love cooking with it, love the way it fills the kitchen with the haunting aroma of wild pecans.
I’ve tried other pecan oils, but this one, with its lovely golden color, is different. Art of Pecan oil is pressed from the nuts of wild native pecan trees that grow along the creeks of Texas, which have a more intense flavor than cultivated trees.
There are plenty of reasons to love pecan oil. According to the people at Art of Pecan it has more polyphenols than extra virgin olive oil and half the saturated fat. They claim it’s also rich in selenium and ellagic acid.
I don’t really care about that. But I do love the flavor, and the fact that it has a high smoke point (470 degrees), which means that if you want to deep fry with it, you can. (For comparison, peanut and soybean oil have a 450 degree smoke point.)
The beauty of pecan oil as a gift? Even the most ardent cook is unlikely to have it in their larder – and who wouldn’t welcome an introduction to this aromatic oil?
I’m grateful that I was able to attend some of the Barrel-Tasting dinners held at the Four Seasons to familiarize wine-lovers with California wines. The industry had been pretty much halted by Prohibition, and the war didn’t help. The grand tastings were an attempt to give American wines the prestige of wines from abroad.
I was at a party last night, and a friend reminded me that I'd given him this recipe years ago. I'd forgotten all about it.
"You served them at your house," he said. "You said it was stupid to buy crackers when they're so easy to make. And then you gave me the recipe. I've been making them ever since."
I haven't made these crackers in a while - but I’m making them now. Kind of perfect for this holiday weekend.
Mustard Cheese Crackers
8 ounces Gruyere, Swiss or Comte cheese
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1 cup flour
2 teasponss dry mustard
2 teaspoons mustard seeds
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 egg yolk
Grate the cheese on a box grater (you should have 2 cups). Put the cheese into a food processor with the butter, and pulse until fairly smooth. Add the flour, dry mustard, mustard seeds, salt, Dijon mustard and egg yolk and pulse to combine.
Turn out onto two sheets of wax paper and roll each into a log about 8 inches long. Freeze for a couple of hours, until firm.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Cut each roll into quarter inch slices, put onto buttered baking sheets and bake about 15 minutes until golden. Cool on a rack.
Thank you - crackers sound wonderful! Isn’t it time to start Gourmet again??
Ruth, your remembrances are a treasure; keep sharing!👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻♥️