Making Gyoza, Part 2

Three infants and about twenty women squeezed into my kitchen for Kanako's cooking demonstration while a pair of toddlers horsed around in the family room.  Add a couple dozen more toddlers to the mix and a quintet of rather tall men and I would have started swooning with Christmas Past nostalgia.

Kanako chopped cabbage and Chinese chives while I photographed the pickled cucumbers and special Dashi soy sauce.  (Note the reflection in the extremely clean aluminum counter and splashboard.) 

Kanako grated ginger root and garlic while I admired the plastic grater contraption she found at the 100 Yen Store (and which is now happily ensconced in its new home, my utensil drawer). 

Kanako added warm water to the Chinese soup stock pellets and added it to the vegetables while I tried on my new Anpanman apron, a gift from Sunshine.  Then Kanako taught me how to wring the excess liquid from the vegetable mixture before adding the ground pork.

The filling mixture should chill in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes before assembling the gyoza but in the interest of time we just stuck it in the freezer for few minutes and called it a half hour.  With the exception of the photographer, rambunctious toddlers, and babes, everyone took turns filling and sealing the gyoza shells.  You want to flatten that lump of filling before you fold the shell, according to the more discerning participants.

Sunshine pleats a gyoza shell under Kanako's supervision

We coated a frying pan with sesame oil to brown one side of the gyoza then added liquid and covered the pan to let the little yumsters steam for a minute or two.  We removed the cover and watched the excess liquid evaporate.  Then we grabbed a spatula to transfer the gyoza to a serving platter.  But the gyoza did not want to leave the pan.  Six women tried and failed to coax those dumplings out of that pan.  The seventh woman, let's call her Paulette Bunyan, succeeded in filling the platter with gyoza scraps.

We coated a second $150 Williams-Sonoma frying pan with sesame oil and achieved the same dismal result.

Kanako hopped in her car and toodled across the base to fetch a pair of trusty Teflon-coated pans from her kitchen cabinet.  The third and fourth batches were sublime.

Two days later the Ancient Mariner greased up that Williams-Sonoma frying pan and cooked up the final batch of 25 gyoza Kanako had kindly tucked into our refrigerator.  Something tells me there's going to be a Teflon-coated pan under the Christmas tree this year. 

Making Gyoza, Part 1

The Seventh Fleet Officer Spouse Association (C7FOSA)* operates differently than Oakleaf, the medical spouse club. For one thing, the C7F ladies hold general business meetings every month from September through May or June. A hostess sign-up sheet is circulated at the welcome coffee in September. Anyone can host a meeting but if you live in senior quarters like I do volunteering your house for a meeting is pretty much mandatory. Or should be. (At least in my mind which, as you've probably noticed, is sharper and fairer than the average world leader's.)

At the welcome coffee this year my mantra was "Let's get this puppy out of the way" so I signed up to host the October meeting. Tapping into my years of executive experience, that memorable era when I was a paragon of efficiency and earned an Olympic gold medal for delegation, I turned to Kanako and asked, "Do you know how to make gyoza?" She assured me she was making it blindfolded and with one hand tied behind her back by the age of five. "Would you like to co-host the October meeting with me? I will clean my house and you will demonstrate how to make gyoza." Kanako thought this was a good plan.**

Kanako took care of the shopping list and I handled the announcement. "We Suppoza You Love Gyoza" was the best I could come up with in the limited time - 30 seconds - available. Let's see you do better.

Shopping for the ingredients was a highpoint for me. Actually, Kanako tried to go shopping without me but I wheedled and whined and promised to push Momo's stroller until Kanako relented. We found everything we needed to make gyoza in the basement and first floor shops at Saikaiya, the department store two blocks outside the Navy base gate. Kanako says Saikaiya offers the best meat and the freshest vegetables in Yokosuka which is why the prices are a little higher.

The pastry shells were in the meat case. There were three different kinds of shells in the meat case but the pictures on the packages made it easy to tell which ones to buy. We bought Chinese chives (they are the spitting image of any other chives you've ever seen), a head of cabbage, and a knob of ginger root. Then we bought ground pork which is sold by the gram. The butcher put 300 grams of ground pork into a plastic bag and tucked a little bag of ice into the plastic bag to keep our ground pork fresh between the store and home. That ice was a nice touch.

In the specialty grocery shop upstairs (which I did not even know existed so all that wheedling and whining was worth the energy expended), we found Chinese soup stock on a shelf next to Korean (magenta label)and some other kind of soup stock (blue label).

"Our" recipe calls for just one tablespoon of soup stock but Kanako says I can use the rest to make egg drop soup. In my dreams, perhaps. (Chinese soup stock tastes like chicken bouillon in case you want to try making gyoza at home.)

The recipe does not call for sausage, but Kanako pointed out the best sausages in Japan simply for my edification. They come from Kamakura.

We can try them together the next time you visit me.

She also recommended a yoghurt drink "good for clearing the intestines." I might have wrinkled my nose, maybe I outright grimaced, but apparently something in my face prompted Kanako to buy a four-pack. She ripped the bottles out of the plastic the second we exited the store. She handed Momo the first bottle after plunging a tiny straw through the foil lid. She handed me the second bottle. I watched Momo suck down the contents of her little bottle in 15 seconds and gesture for another round before stabbing my straw through the foil. Not bad. Kind of sweet, not as thick as a milkshake, acceptable aftertaste.

I haven't noticed any appreciable difference in my intestines but I'll be sure to keep you posted.


* Memorize this acronym - the 7 is a good clue - because I don't intend to spell it out for you again
** Note, if you please, that Kanako was offered the better part of the deal since lending my kitchen to another woman, and a pristine Japanese lady at that, compelled me to sanitize the counters, cabinets, appliances and floor. We're talking de-greasing the stove fan cover, for Buddha's sake!