Appreciating Fennel

Years ago my sister won a scholarship to study in Florence. Being a good sister, I made the oh-so-difficult decision to visit her in springtime. One of my many fond memories of the trip was smelling anise when walking around. "Oh, that's the 'finocchio,' wild fennel," my sister said. I loved the scent, but neither my sister nor I developed any particular enthusiasm for fennel itself.

My indifference has basically continued to this day. When I see the fronds from afar, I think "Dill!" and get disappointed when I see my mistake. This is not to say I never eat fennel. Once in a while, especially when I see a nice bunch in the Union Square Greenmarket, I'll buy some and eat it raw, thinly sliced with a generous sprinkle of salt.

But this member of the carrot family fennel does have many enthusiasts -- like my friend Hiroko. I'll let her take it over from here.

I like to use the whole fennel, including the fronds - they have a nice green color - in salads, but sometimes markets in the US sell them with the fronds removed. I guess they are too bulky and take too much space on the store shelf. So it was a nice surprise when I found a fennel with whole fronds attached in a Tokyo supermarket.

It was so gloriously tall and bushy - look how it was compared to
a 5ft tall kid!

In the summer, I like to eat fennel raw in a salad. It's super easy to prepare! Just remove the tough core and outer part, then slice the fennel think with a mandoline. 

I like fennel with orange (quite refreshing) - it tastes like celery with a bit of anise flavor, so it goes well with the sweetness of orange.

Or with thinly sliced zucchini and a mustard vinaigrette.

When we're in Switzerland [Hiroko's husband is Swiss], we often eat fennel with roast meat. [Editor's note: Avert your eyes! This is a vegetarian blog.] 

On my recent trip to Munich, I obviously enjoyed the city too much, with copious amount of sausage and beer, so I was eating roasted fennel for breakfast and drank fennel tea. They help digestion.

It really worked (so I went out to eat more) !

Now who couldn't appreciate that?

Insect Farm, Tokyo

 

I am always happy to get an email from my friend Hiroko and doubly happy when she brings news from Tokyo's swingin' produce scene.

Recently she wrote to me,

I went to a town in Tokyo called Ebisu in Tokyo last Sunday and stumbled upon a farmers market. It was pretty small, maybe too small to call a market, so they called it "Marche" (as if the serving size is always smaller in France than in the US).

She actually wrote more, but of course I was chock full of questions about this first paragraph, and I made Hiroko go back and explain.

What do you mean, “town in Tokyo”? Does Tokyo have towns? And how far away is Ebisu from your “town” in Tokyo?

Hiroko patiently explained,

Tokyo has 23 wards (called "ku," like Meguro-ku, Shibuya-ku) and cities (called "shi," like Tama-shi), and small towns in them. Ebisu is in Shibuya-ku, Tokyo - and is about 15 minutes train ride from where I live. Ebisu housed famous brewery, which produced Yebisu Beer (that is available in the U.S) . The fancy mall where this marche was held used be a beer factory with beautiful red brick architecture, but was kind of abandoned after the shut down of the factory. It kind of reminds me of the the South Street Seaport.

 

Back to her original comments: 

 

Because it was in one of those fancy urban malls it seemed more for tourists than for locals to get fresh produce. But actually there were a couple of good stands - I got some organic herbs and peppers. One of the shops was called "Insect Farm."

 

I asked the lady there what's in the name, and she said "We are organic, so there are a lot of insects in our farm." I thought it was so cute I took some pictures.

 

I was surprised by the routine use of English, so I asked Hiroko, Would the use of English be routine in a tourist area?

 

Hiroko wrote,

 

Yes, pretty much. Train/subway stations, other main attractions of the city usually have Japanese/English signs, some even have signs in Chinese and Korean.

 
(Hmm, so why does Japan have a reputation as being challenging for (admittedly spoiled and self-entitled) English speakers?  Oh, it's spoken English that is the problem, not written English.  And Japanese students typically study English for at least 6 years, unlike the US, famous for its foreign language deficit.)

 

I asked Hiroko to translate the prices and compare them to the standard costs in Tokyo. She wrote,

 

The bunch of sage I'm holding was 150 yen, about $1.25. It's a reasonable price for organic herbs.  [Hiroko, that's cheaper than NYC prices!]

The big bunch of French celery is 300 yen [around $2.50] and a bunch of borage is 150 yen [around $1.25] . A bag of assorted color bell peppers is 300 yen [around $2.50]. 

 

The apples in the photo cost 150 yen a piece and 500 yen for four. The muscat grapes are 1000 yen a bunch. It is a bit expensive compared to the regular market price, but they were organic.

I asked Hiroko if most of the market apples were the Japanese-origin apples that are now popular in the markets here - Fuji and Mutsu. She wrote,

We have quite a bit of varieties -  Akibae, Shin Sekai, Shinano Gold and Kogyoku. My favorite is Fuji to eat and Kogyoku to cook. Kogyoku has tart flavor and crisp texture, and it won't get mushy when cooked.

 

Despite succumbing to the charms of Insect Farm, Hiroko concluded,

That small Marche made me missing Honeycrisp apples, hot apple cider, and other stuff at Union Sq. Green Market.  And I miss Autumn in NYC.

We miss you too, Hiroko! Our fingers are crossed for a visit to NYC in 2016!

'Shroomin' in Tokyo (Guest blog post from Japan)

Location: New York City (Brooklyn and the Bronx, to be exact). Some heavy rains have resulted in a bumper crop of my favorite fungus.

Meanwhile, in Tokyo my friend Hiroko was also thinking about mushrooms - albeit more productively.

Here's her guest blog post: 

As an apartment dweller in Tokyo, words like "farming" and "harvesting" don't typically come very close to me. So when I found a pile of plastic wrapped logs labeled "Shiitake Log" at the fresh produce section of my local super market, I was really skeptical. They were sold 399 yen (around $4) a piece. Seriously? Hey, a pack of Shiitake Mushroom costs about $2.99! So why not giving it a try? Even if it fails, we have nothing to lose!

The idea of farming Shiitake was an instant hit with my 8 years old son. No pets are allowed in this building, but a pet Mushroom Log? YES! With enthusiasm, we opened the plastic wrapping, but we didn't find any instruction,  just a piece of hand-written memo that said, "Remove the wrap. Spray water. In a few days, Shiitake comes." Oh thank you very much!

My son did some research and said: "My fungus needs a high moisture level." He started to spritz water on the log, twice a day, as if it was an honorable job. And really, in two days.....voila! MUSHROOMS!

Whoa! Almost too much!

Tokyo is currently in its rainy season, which is called "Tsuyu" ("Plum Rain," the annual rainy season when plums are ripening), so along with my son's diligent spritzing, the Shiitake Log is getting plenty of moisture on our balcony. Did you know 90% of a Shiitake is water? 

The Shitakes are thriving, happily popping up. Harvesting has become my son's daily routine!

Harvesting mushrooms for dinner.

Miso Soup with Shiitake and Scallions, Bean Thread (Saifun) Salad with Shiitake, Eggs and Fish Cake, Chicken Drumsticks and Eggs, Pickles

Miso Soup with Shiitake and Scallions, Bean Thread (Saifun) Salad with Shiitake, Eggs and Fish Cake, Chicken Drumsticks and Eggs, Pickles.