Men In the Kitchen: It was an all guy cooking group, no girls allowed. But I brought my A game and a big pot of Japanese beef stew.  

When I was in Japan, researching my book about the changing roles of Japanese women, Kickboxing Geishas, I got to experience a number of extraordinary things: from snowboarding (okay, snow rolling was more like it) on the northern island of Sapporo to getting dressed up as a geisha in the beautiful, ancient city of Kyoto. I met one of my closest friends, Karen Hill Anton, a black woman who has lived in Japan for close to thirty years and is the author of a wonderful collection of essays called Crossing Cultures.

But one of my most unforgettable experiences was the time I spent with a Tokyo group called Men In the Kitchen.  As many of you know, in Japan, male- female roles are still quite traditional.  Except in the poorest of families, most wives don't work outside of the home and many young brides quit their job after marriage.  This creates a situation where when the men retire, after years in corporate Japan, the women hardly know them -- and don't want to.  Divorce rates among senior citizens are the fastest growing in the nation, and seven million Japanese men will retire -- many driving their wives batty in the process -- between 2007 and 2009.  "Men in the Kitchen" is a group founded by retired men to help Japanese men of all ages learn how to cook, challenge the traditional stereotypes, and maybe, just maybe, save their marriages in the process. Of course, I had to meet them.

When I first showed up to interview the members of "Men in the Kitchen" at a community center in a Tokyo suburb, I have to admit, I felt a little sorry for them.  The smallest task, like chopping a carrot, was clearly a first time experience for some of these guys;  most of them in their fifties, or older.  But as the evening wore on and I began my interviews, we fell into an easy rhythm.  People who like to cook share a common language. And while these men were new to the kitchen, their passion for cooking was real.

At the end of the evening, the head of the group invited me to their end of the year party.  There was only one caveat, he announced, saying a few words in Japanese that I didn't understand.  What I did understand was that all the men laughed.  I learned that the party was a pot luck, every one was bringing a dish, there'd be enough sake to fill Tokyo bay and there'd be no girls allowed.  The laughter had come from this question: what would the American girl bring to the Japanese pot luck? Then he turned to me and asked, what was I going to bring?  McDonald's?  Starbucks? Pizza Hut?

I told the fellas no, no and no.  I would bring a pot of niku jaga, a Japanese beef stew. Niku means beef, jaga means potato.  Immediately a hush fell over the room. Niku jaga is a cornerstone of Japanese home cooking, like American chicken soup. It's not hard to make, just something that brought to mind a traditional Japanese mother -- not a Prada clad black woman with dreadlocks. The group agreed: everyone would be most interested in tasting "an American niku jaga."

Over the next few days, I walked around Tokyo in a daze: shopping for ingredients and a pot big enough to feed a roomful of hungry men.  I felt like I was in an episode of the Little Rascals and that the "Men in the Kitchen" was a modern day version of Alfafa's "He Man Woman Haters Club." I wanted to be in the club something awful.

That night, as I cooked, I wasn't worried.  I'd made a lot of niku jaga that winter and with practice, comes confidence. What made me nervous is that when I arrived at the party, husband in tow, the men led us around the room, giving us first tastes of all of their dishes.  But as the evening wore on, no one, and I mean no one, took a bite of my niku jaga.  I was just starting to feel the full effect of the snub, when the head of the group made an announcement, "It is now time to taste the American niku jaga."  The group gathered round and little bowls were handed out.  It certainly helped that by this point in the evening, the men were in their cups. Tipsy or not, they proclaimed the niku jaga delicious and ate heartily. 

One man suggested that if anything, my niku jaga was too Japanese.  He had been looking forward to more of a culinary mash up, niku jaga with an American twist.  It's been quite a while and I still haven't thought of a way to Americanize this dish.  Is it a failure of imagination on my part?  Or a case of not wanting to tamper with Japanese perfection?  You tell me.

THE AMERICAN GIRL'S NIKU JAGA

Note: The Niku Jaga can be made in less than an hour, but the time suck here is the dashi broth which needs to soak for at least an hour. So in this recipe start at the bottom and work your way up!
 

INGREDIENTS

1/4 pound thinly sliced beef sirloin
4 yukon gold potatoes
1 small onion
1 shallot
4 tablespoons soy sauce
4 teaspoons sake
4 yeaspoons mirin*
(Mirin is a sweet rice wine, if you can't find, try a little sherry or sweet cooking wine)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 cup snow peas
2 cups dashi Broth (see recipe below)

DIRECTIONS

Cut beef into thin slices, potatoes into small chunks, slice onion and shallot into thin slices as well. They don't have to be perfectly shaped, but you do want the potatoes to be small enough to cook quickly. Boil snow peas, until tender but crisp, about three minutes on medium high heat. Pour oil in a pan and saute beef on medium high heat. Add potatoes to the pan and saute for an additional five minutes . Add dashi soup stock, soy sauce, sake, mirin, and sugar in the pan and simmer for ten minutes on medium heat. Add onion and shallot to the pan and simmer on low heat until the potatoes are super soft, almost mashed, and the liquid is almost gone, another ten to fifteen minutes. Sprinkle snow peas over the simmered beef and potatoes.

Makes 4 servings

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DASHI BROTH

Dashi is Japanese soup stock. This one is made from konbu, a kind of dried seaweed.  If you can't find konbu, try dried mushrooms. If worse comes to worst, a box or can of pre-made vegetable stock will do. However, I'd taste the niku jaga as you go along to see if you need a little extra mirin or soy sauce to compensate for the flavor of the pre-made American vegetable stock.

INGREDIENTS

4 cups of water
6 Inches long konbu

DIRECTIONS

Tradition dictates that kombu shouldn't be run under water, so wipe the konbu of all surface dirt with a damp paper towel. Soak the konbu in the water in a pot for at least an hour. Put the pot on the stove on a low heat and bring the water to a boil. Just before the water boils, remove the konbu. Your dashi is done.