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Written by Umami Kid H ave you heard of the Japanese curry (or Kare)? It’s a mouth-watering, piping hot dish in which vegetables and meat (usually beef) are stewed with spices, served over rice. The dish’s popularity both domestically and internationally is impressive, but what’s more fascinating is the story behind its transformation over time. In this chapter, I will introduce how Japanese curry, originally brought by the British, was adapted and domesticated throughout the decades in Japan. Japanese curry First, let’s rewind to 19th-century Japan, where the almost three-decades-long sakoku , or the national seclusion policy (1630s - 1850s), was coming to an end. During sakoku , foreign influence was extremely limited by the Tokugawa Shogunate, a political regime that governed Japan throughout this period (the Edo period: 1600-1868). It strictly adhered to an isolationist policy, and trades were only allowed at certain government-controlled ports. However, with the external pressure from other countries to open trade and the internal pressure to modernize, Sakoku  has finally ended.  This time period was when curry travelled from the UK to Japan. The British navy, eager to establish trade ties with Japan, arrived at the Japanese port of Uraga. By then, curry had become popular nationwide in the UK—due to the colonization of India, the curry recipe spread across the country. As curry was implemented as a part of soldiers’ meals through the British navy to the Japanese navy, it proved extremely beneficial for strengthening its power: curry was able to provide essential nutrients traditional Japanese meals often lacked, such as thiamine and healthy fats; additionally, the high-calorie nature of the cuisine allowed soldiers to bulk up more easily.* Though the need for strength and nutrients was the key contributors of the cuisine’s popularity within the navy, curry’s presence spread to the public, thanks to Japan’s shaping of modern identity. At the time curry became a military favorite, imperial countries had become the world’s superpowers. Japan had wanted to join those countries through modernization: considering imperial nations were in the West, the government promoted westernization under the slogan of “fukoku kyohei (enrich the country, strengthen the armed forces)” and “shokusankogyo (increase production and promote industry)”. Curry was surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, since it was brought by the UK) considered to be a Western dish for the locals, and the government operationalized it to raise awareness of the nation’s modernization. This rhetoric is evident because in this time period, the dish was limitedly served in Western-style eateries, or Seiyo-ryori-ya. Only the wealthy could afford dining in these restaurants, highlighting that “Western” meals, including curry, were perceived as sophisticated and luxurious.* Japan was in the midst of industrialization Even post-World War 2, the sentiment of admiration for the Western imperial countries remained. A curry commercial from 1965 clearly took advantage of this image that Japanese people believed—a background music inspired by The West Side Story  is played while a girl with a western costume in the movie promotes the curry product joyfully. Although The West Side Story does not represent the overly broad idea of “Western culture”, the rhetoric was sufficiently appealing for the Japanese audience, who had limited exposure and view of Western culture. (Clip below) However, it was only since the economic boom (1950s-1970s) that curry became a national favorite. Namely, the implementation of curry on elementary school lunch menus, and the diffusion of curry roux in local supermarkets have contributed to its popularity. Post-war malnutrition among children was a pressing concern; similar to how curry improved the physique of Japanese soldiers in the 19th century, it became practical in efficiently nourishing children. Additionally, the invention of curry roux, or solid blocks of spice mixture that instantly thickens the curry broth, enabled households to conveniently and affordably cook curry at home.  Curry roux In the modern day, Japanese curry remains one of the most well-known dishes in Japan. In fact, the dish is called Kare (equivalent to curry in English), while Indian curry is referred to as Indo Kare (The word ‘Indian’ is added to differentiate). These names in themselves reveal how Japanese curry has become mainstream, positioning Indian curry as a nice addition. The once luxurious dish has fully assimilated and localized in Japan to the point that it is now considered cheap eats, with around $7 for a bowl of serving available at local restaurants. This transformation of Japanese curry’s identity from foreign to local is extremely unique, because many dishes simply remain foreign after being introduced to a new country, albeit changing their forms (Californian rolls are considered Japanese food in the US, though it is an Americanized Japanese dish; similarly, Chicken tikka masala is still associated with Indian qualities in the UK, despite the dish does not exist in India and was evolved in the UK). Poeggel’s theory* of food and social identity explains this phenomenon—a cuisine becomes localized not automatically, but when individuals tie it to their group identity and place. Specifically, she highlights, “When individuals identify themselves according to a local food group, their sustainability values or a place-based identity could be relevant. Identifying these identities as social categories in the group, they perceive to fit in the group and social identification with the local food group occurs.” Hence, even when the cuisine is foreign, like curry, or introduced from a place or culture outside of where the group of individuals live, if they identify it as their “own,” it can become part of a local cuisine. Curry was domesticated because, throughout centuries, Japanese people gradually began identifying the dish as “their own”.  Californian rolls Chicken tikka masala This research on curry sparked curiosity in the relationship between cuisine and its authenticity. When a dish transforms from a foreign to a local one, at what point would the dish be considered “authentic”? Additionally, since I study as a Japanese student in the US, how does the dish’s authenticity affect Japanese restaurant owners’ cultural identity in the US? (Similar to when the Meiji government used Japanese curry to raise awareness of the country’s Westernization, can dishes influence people’s cultural identity?) In the second chapter of my “Reconstructing Authenticity: Japanese Curry and the Cultural Negotiation of Identity in Ethnic Restaurants”, I will be analyzing my interviews with Japanese restaurants in the US, and how authenticity is interpreted in these spaces. How do owners define authenticity? Is it valued, or do dishes become more adapted to American customers? Are there any obstacle to serving authentic cuisine? I will be answering these questions through knowledge I gained along my research. Stay tuned!!! *Introduction to curry by the UK Navy: Lizzie Collingham, Curry: A Tale of Cooks and Conquerors  (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 252–53 Naomichi Ishige, The History and Culture of Japanese Food  (London: Routledge, 2001), 155–56. *Curry served in Western-style eateries: Mary Redfern, “Getting to Grips with Knives, Forks and Spoons: Guides to Western-Style Dining for Japanese Audiences, c.1800–1875,” Food and Foodways  22, no. 3 (2014): 150–53, https://doi.org/10.1080/07409710.2014.940244 *Poeggel's theory: Karoline Poeggel, “You Are Where You Eat: A Theoretical Perspective on Why Identity Matters in Local Food Groups,” Frontiers in Sustainable Food Systems  6 (2022): 782556,   https://doi.org/10.3389/fsufs.2022.782556

This article is written by Umami Kid (Elie Shimaoka) It was one afternoon in a French classroom. Our Moroccan French teacher, Monsieur Alami, came in with an enormous grocery shopping bag carried over his shoulder. The students observed him as he revealed a plain-featured silver pot from the bag. What could be inside? When he eventually lifted the lid, everyone leaned in–it was Moroccan mint tea! The vibrant and fresh mint was laid over green tea leaves and sugar. He gently poured boiling water into the pot, and after waiting for the tea to steam, it was finally ready to be served. From a high position, the tea was poured into the neatly lined glasses; as they filled, the unique aroma of the tea leaves and the mint fused in the air, permeating across the room. The tea’s flavor was something I had never tasted before—sweet yet smooth, rich yet subtle. Despite the simple ingredients, the notes were complex and deep: the tea leaves created a powerful, slightly bitter foundation, while the mint’s crispness added to the palate. My classmates and I enjoyed our tea time, as the classroom turned into a timeless cafe in Marrakech. Tea time! The tea is known as atay  (أتاي) in Arabic,   or thé à la menthe marocain  in French, the two languages widely spoken in Morocco. It is commonly consumed in the Maghreb region (North Africa, including Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco). The tea historically embodies a unique combination of Moroccan elements and a product of globalization: cane sugar from the Americas, green tea leaves grown and processed in China, both paired with local mint. It has become embedded in Moroccan culture, as people have developed unique traditions around it. Indeed, “[p]oems and songs of praise for tea are ubiquitous…and images of hospitality, togetherness, and national pride characterize tea’s portrayal in television, film, and advertising.” After the class, I had the opportunity to interview Monsieur Alami about his experience with the tea. He generously brought the tea all the way over to the school cafeteria for me for the interview. I asked him, “So why is Moroccan mint tea a cultural symbol in Morocco?” He took a sip and replied, “The act of pouring the tea signifies hospitality. It is served on a diverse range of occasions in Morocco, from weddings to everyday conversations… Especially, the locals offer mint tea to their guests at home as a sign of welcome.” An academic account by Monika Sudakov highlights a reasoning behind this tradition at home: “The guest, while being fed and taken care of, is by that very token acknowledging the power of the host. Merely entering into such a position represents an acceptance of submission.”  Monsieur Alami also taught me that there is a specific way to serve tea: “there is a whole set of tray, glasses, and the pot. It is usually poured to where the line is on the glass, and when guests finish drinking, the host pours it in again.” I personally experienced his hospitality in class: he continuously asked students, including me, if we wanted more! Another notable factor is that the types of Moroccan mint tea vary depending on different regions. According to Monsieur Alami, the tea is “sweeter and served in taller glasses with mint” in the north, such as in Tangier and the capital city of Rabat. Meanwhile, in the south, including the Sahara desert, the tea leaves are “darker and redder compared to the northern ones,” and are “much more bitter.”  As we wrapped up the interview, he mentioned how the tea not only “reminds him of home,” but also “makes him proud and happy” as he makes it for students and faculty at our school. From what I observe, the impact of Monsieur Alami’s Moroccan mint tea lesson almost has a magical pull on students (and even the faculty)—once they fall under the spell, they come back for more.

This review was written by Tessa Barney (pen name - The Carnivore) The bearded man brings an extra dirty martini to his lips. The martini olive bobs up and down like a ship drifting at sea. He takes one sip and lets out a satisfying sigh. At Via Carota, patrons from all over New York, both young and old, come to enjoy a meal at this classic Italian restaurant. It’s a safe bet that anything on the menu will leave your plate empty and your belly so full they’ll have to wheel you out, but I recommend the pasta dishes since they make it in-house. We had thick belts of Pappardelle pasta with a rich wild boar ragu sauce covered in a feathery mountain of parmesan, skinny Tonnarelli noodles coated in a salt and pepper cacio e pepe sauce, and leafy green salad showered in sherry vinaigrette with hints of lemon to tie the meal together. Reservations are highly encouraged, but if you go early enough, even on a Saturday night, you might also score a table for six with no wait. Pappardelle Tessa is a passionate writer and editor at her school's magazine. Besides reporting, she loves a good medium-rare steak. Learn more about Via Carota by visiting: https://www.viacarota.com/ Go back to Homepage

This review is written by Umami Kid (Elie Shimaoka) California rolls, shrimp tempura sushi, teriyaki chicken…and the list goes on. Innovative spirits have strayed from the original Japanese flavors to pursue something new: dishes tailored to appeal to the American palate. While often disdained by purists, this trend should not be perceived negatively. Rather, it should be celebrated as a creative and experimental approach because they are the catalysts for growth in the culinary world.  Yet, pragmatically, accessibility remains the primary motivation behind the domestication of Japanese food. Despite their pervasive presence in Japan, many ingredients are seen with skepticism. Take natto (fermented soybeans) for example—though celebrated in Japan for its rich umami and health benefits, it is often met with hesitation from the American audience due to its distinct aroma and sticky texture. Some even compare it with unpleasant imagery, dismissing natto without giving it a fair chance. California Rolls are the staple of Japanese American food That’s why Raku was a revelation for me.  As I flipped the menu booklet, my eyes immediately went to familiar names: Sabazushi–pressed sushi with salt-pickled mackerel; nameko udon–udon with nameko mushrooms; hijiki–brown algae seasoned with sesame and sweet savory sauce. I had never seen these dishes in a Japanese restaurant in the US before. I felt as if I was transported back home. Despite my initial concern about how those niche dishes were represented, the food did not disappoint. Kamonan, duck meat udon in a mildly flavored soy sauce-based broth, arrives steaming, releasing an appetizing aroma. The noodles had the perfect chew: silky smooth and perfectly slurpable. The duck was tender yet slightly firm, inviting me to savor the released juices with each bite. The level of dedication Raku puts into Japanese food truly elevates the standard of the cuisine, teaching people about udon’s infinite potential. Diners unfamiliar with real Japanese udon would leave with a new understanding of its essence. Kamonan Now, I can confidently say I am a huge fan of Raku. The restaurant remains true to what it believes in, upholding the trend of westernized Japanese food. They could easily have adapted the dishes to suit the American palate. But instead, they took a risk. Not everyone is open-minded to trying something unfamiliar, yet Raku takes on the bold challenge of sharing lesser-known local dishes with an American audience. That quiet courage is what I admire the most. My friend ordered the Curry Udon Learn more about Raku by visiting: https://www.rakunyc.com/ Go back to the Homepage

Hello! I'm Elie Shimaoka, the founder of Edible Stories (pen name - Umami Kid). Growing up in Tokyo, I've always been passionate about food. From omakase restaurants to street food stalls, I've explored various cuisines from different cultures. I had always wanted to publish articles online about food, but never had the opportunity. However, during the summer NYtimes program focused on food journalism, I had a brilliant idea. Since I can't dine at delicious restaurants while attending boarding school in a rural area, why not make the most of my time in NYC, one of the best cities for restaurant exploration? Thus, I started this food blog. Tourists, New Yorkers, students—anyone can visit our blog and discover new dining spots. This is truly a dream come true! Elie, known as the umami kid, enjoys discovering diverse culinary experiences in various locations. Go back to Homepage

The review was written by Claire Leung (pen name - Wokchoy) Momofuku Noodle Bar. An oh-so-revered name in the hallowed halls of restaurant fame. With an empty stomach and an hour on the clock, we dashed towards the Columbus Circle mall in an epic quest for springy noodles and rich, savory broth.  A seasoned restaurateur, chef David Chang is wildly successful. Since opening his first Momofuku Noodle Bar in 2004, he has expanded, opening additional restaurants in New York, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. Momofuku Ko—a high-end restaurant that offered 10-16 course meals while it was open—earned two Michelin stars in its first year alone. In short, Chang is a restaurant god . Since its inception, Momofuku has evolved into a multi-million dollar group—a label that you can even find printed on colorful packaging in the instant noodle aisle of your local grocery store. It would suffice to say that I was beyond excited to try this ramen.  Pork Ramen – pork belly, poached egg, bamboo It arrived in front of me, a steaming heap of glossy noodles swimming in a deep orange elixir. I noticed the crown jewel immediately—a delicate poached egg so round that I thought it would burst at any moment. The bowl looked beautiful. But how did it taste? It only made sense to start with the tender wedge of pork that lay beside the noodles. With a crispy exterior enveloping its inner succulence, each bite was melt-in-your-mouth delightful. While the noodles could’ve used slightly more bounce (the more chews, the better!), a firm bamboo chunk provided the perfect crunch to balance out the heaviness of the dish. While we were waiting for our food, Elie pointed out the sign behind the bar—menu items and short messages pertaining to Momofuku were spelled out by shuffling letters that would flip every once in a while to display a different memo. A cute touch that complemented the modern-chic design of the restaurant’s interior. With a little more time to enjoy the food and less stress about how we were going to split the bill a monstrous six ways, I’d have almost no complaints about my lunch experience. I’m excited to visit Momofuku Noodle Bar again when I get the chance! Claire loves trying out new restaurants in the city! Learn more about Momofuku Noodle Bar by visiting: https://momofukunoodlebar.com/ Go back to Homepage

Written by Sandy Candy It seems like everyone is craving some xiao long bao , or soup dumplings, ever since they grew insanely popular in the US. Now, even Trader Joe’s sells frozen soup dumplings for the American audience to enjoy when they’re in a rush.  But let’s talk about the origins of the Shanghainese soup dumpling. For that to happen, we need to zoom in on the humble town of Nanxiang, Shanghai, where the soup dumpling all began. The term Xiao Long Bao  directly translates to “little basket buns,” named for the cage baskets in which the soup dumplings were steamed. The name “Nanxiang Xiao Long Bao” couldn’t be better suited for this restaurant. As a student of the School of NYTimes, visiting this restaurant in Flushing was part of our curriculum. We huddled close to each other as we dodged the rain that came down like bullets. But no obstacle could hinder us from trying out the soup dumplings Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao had to offer.  Hair wet and feet cold, we stepped inside the stony interior lined with dark wood. Quiet chatter filled the spacious restaurant as a waitress led us to our table.  Soon, the star of the meal arrived: the soup dumplings, 6 for $14.25. Zealously, I poured vinegar into my spoon and dropped a thin slice of ginger into the puddle. Xiao Long Bao (Soup Dumplings) A bite in the wrong spot of the dumpling, and the soup pours from your spoon like an uncontrollable flood. Although I had years of experience, there was never a 100% success rate. With shaking hands, I placed the dumpling onto the spoon, its excess resting lazily over the edge. The wrap was pearly white, each fold carefully calculated to be of the same size. It beckoned me to the spoon, and I nibbled on the side of the wrap.  The broth warmed my insides as I gulped it down. It was just the right amount of saltiness paired with hints of vinegar and ginger from below. Then, greedily, I bit down into the soup dumpling to capture a moment when I could taste both the soup and the filling. That was when I realized that the highlight of this moment was over; there was nothing that could replace the broth as the best part of the soup dumpling. The filling was more a texture than a taste, and the wrap contributed little to the dish’s remarkableness. I ate the rest of my soup dumplings, anticipating only the beginning of the process.  In addition to the dumplings, I also ordered some jellyfish and stir-fried rice cakes. These were satisfactory to the taste buds, yet nothing extraordinary. The total was just over 50 dollars for a meal that fed 3 people – a suitable price for a Queens restaurant that served casual Chinese cuisine. Reservations are available, and it is certainly a place worth trying as a means to introduce Shanghainese food into your diet. Although I have never traveled to Shanghai, the soup dumplings took me to the metropolis, standing beneath the Oriental Pearl Tower. Jellyfish Stir-Fried Rice Cakes Learn more about Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao by visiting: https://nanxiangxiaolongbao.com/ Go back to Homepage