The hottest pots

It's the time of year dreaded by brass monkeys everywhere — yes, it's January again. Uninformed visitors ask why Japanese houses don't have central heating. They do — it comes in a big steaming pot, it's even cheerier with chatter and warm sake, and it's called nabe. Itadakimasu!

Now, a short history of the Japanese culinary amalgamation known as sukiyaki.
Depending on which text one subscribes to, the origins of the flavorful, shoyu-soaked meat-and-veggie dish are as follows: One school of thought — and once the de rigueur lesson taught in Japanese textbooks — was that sukiyaki only 'officially' took off after the Emperor Meiji declared meat 'okay' for the populace to eat on New Years' Day, 1872 (perhaps after indulging himself with a roast or four on New Years' Eve, 1871), thereby loosening Japan's then-stringent adherence to Buddhist doctrine as well as providing a handy method of catching up physically to the much bigger Westerners making their way through the country.

The more colorful version of the story precedes Meiji's announcement and follows the literal translation of sukiyaki (from the Chinese characters for “plow” and “cook”) back to a past history where farmers, hunters and soldiers from strict Buddhist, vegetarian households killed animals afield and grilled them on sturdy iron plows.

One rationale for this is that the plows were the easiest and fastest ways available to cook the food; another suggests that cooking the meat outdoors kept the impurity of the slain animal from infecting an undefiled Buddhists' kitchen. Taking into consideration the rather strenuous religious doctrine enforced at the time, as well as the (to be certain) wary appraisal of pious neighbors, many prefer to think that these were just the people that didn't want to get caught.

Whether, then, the nabe variation known as sukiyaki was created following a bold proclamation by the famed Emperor, or whether it simply came about as a result of a bunch of not-so-dedicated Buddhists trying to escape the watchful gaze of The Man, the thread of brotherhood, community and togetherness the food created still exists today.

As popular legend goes, nabemono (literally translated, “pan things,” or “pan food”) was first conceived, along with the creation of a modern nicety known as 'pottery,' over 10,000 years ago in prehistoric Jomon-era Japan.

Geographical placement of pit-like stoves in the Jomons' crude dwellings suggest that these ancient Japanese families would simply gather round, dump whatever food they had into the pit, then cook and eat until they had their fill. Twelve thousand years of progress, of course, has seen the blasted clay pots and fire pits of old replaced with anvil-sized cast-iron cookware and portable electric stoves (¥8,000 for the Zojirushi HX nabe maker; on sale now at Yodobashi Camera); however, the communal aspect remains wholly intact.

Yakiniku chain Gyu-Kaku notes on its website that people who eat from the same dish “develop and enjoy stronger, meaningful and long-lasting relationships;” the authors of the cooking tome At the Japanese Table sound a similar tone. “Eating,” they write, “is very far from just a matter of filling the stomach in Japan. It is a time when people gather together, a time for sociability.”

What separates the 'sociability' of a good nabe get-together from the considerably less-sociable feel of, say, a local Yoshinoya at 4 in the morning is the pertinent point of involving everyone in the cooking process. Foods such as takoyaki and okonomiyaki, while easily prepared in the open, are tricky enough to warrant one or two — and only one or two — people taking control of the proceedings. (There is no food as bad as bad takoyaki.)

Nabe, however, is the definition of laissez-faire cooking: a pot of broth is heated over a portable range in the middle of the table (and the dinner guests); a plate of carefully-arranged ingredients is prepared so that every- one can simply grab what they want and drop it in. Fun, healthy, astonishingly easy, and a heck of a meal to enjoy during the cold winter months.

The utter simplicity of the formula may account for nabe's enduring longevity, as well as the astonishing level of variation to be found among nabe dishes. Japan alone has birthed a cornucopia of alterations — every-thing from horsemeat (included in a dish known, strangely enough, as sakura nabe) to fugu (re: blowfish; making up the basis
of techiri nabe) is included, with a variety of tastes thrown into the usually-dashi based broth.

Country-specific nabe have also enjoyed a surge of popularity. Spicy “Thai-suki” is downed in the Coca chain of restaurants seen throughout Bangkok; “Chige nabe,” inundated with red peppers, is enjoyed throu-ghout Korea. Worldwide, the taste has also caught on: A sukiyaki restaurant with the not-so-very-clever name of Sukiyaki draws crowds in London; the Housenka restaurant enjoys healthy business in Los Angeles; Chon Mage feeds gastronomists in Sydney.

There are also, of course, a host of nabe hotspots in and around Kansai (see sidebar), as well as the requisite pre-fab versions found in convenience stores and supermarkets; popular konbini brand Kinrei makes a tinfoil chanko nabe pot with all the trimmings for the single teacher on the go (about ¥470). The serving of the Kinrei pot is for about one person, though, which kind of misses the point; if you're eating nabe alone, you may as well be eating at Yoshinoya …

The Food

Part and parcel of the nabe experience is the equipment you will need to get started: here, a big, deep pan, and a portable stove to cook on the table with. Have them? You're set.

So now, a Basic Sukiyaki Recipe:

Serves 4
• Prep Time: About 15 minutes
• Cooking Time: Less than 10 minutes
• Ingredients: 600 grams beef
• 1 large onion, chopped
• 12 shiitake mushrooms (the thick, dark ones)
• 8 oz. enokidake mushrooms (the thin, white ones)
• 3 leeks, chopped
• 8 oz. tofu
• 1/2 head hakusai (Chinese cabbage), chopped
• 4 eggs

Sauce
• 1 &1/2 cups dashi (soup stock)
• 1 &1/2 cup soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon sugar

Method
Mix the sauce first; cook over a medium heat. Crack an egg into each guests' dish; mix well, leave for later. (Guests dip their prepared food into the egg, swish around and eat; salmonella is rendered less of a concern the higher-quality the eggs being used.)
As far as the rules of cooking go, things vary from household to household. It's generally agreed upon that everyone cooks a bit of meat first; after that, the vegetables and remainder of the beef are tossed in intermittently.

As they say, Adjust to Taste — there are numerous variations on nabe tried and tested in a million different scenarios; start from a soup base, choose your vegetables and work from there.

Here are just a few of the more interesting types:

Shabu Shabu Nabe

Nabe beef prepared “shabu shabu” style — so named, of course, for the sound the extremely-thinly sliced beef makes as it is dragged through hot broth at the end of diners' chopsticks. (Opinions on the actual sound being made may differ.) Tasty, and quite easy to prepare.

Chanko Nabe

“Chanko,” a pet slang word meaning “meal,” is certified as the sumo dish champions-in-training must down to keep up their massive size. The food included here is rich — a medium-sized chicken, mountains of beef, hideous amounts of radish, potatoes and udon — though most will tell you that it is the quantity eaten (rather than the calories) that accounts for the size of the modern wrestlers.

Thai Nabe

Nabe heartened with spicy Tom Yum paste, chicken and chili peppers. (And don't forget the coconut milk.)

Korean Nabe

Kimchi! Kimchi! Kimchi! (And also copious amounts of pork.) If you aren't warm before eating this, you will be afterwards…

Vegetarian Nabe

Load up the udon noodles, veggies and tofu; include a helping of aburage (fried tofu) for an out-of-this-world taste.

Yami Nabe

Also known as “dark-pot nabe,” or “mystery nabe.” The reason for this is that the dish is eaten in the dark, with each guest throwing in mystery ingredients, which are then cooked in secret and fed to other unsuspecting guests. Maybe chicken, maybe anko, maybe a sock — if it finds its way between your chop- sticks, local rules say you at least have to give it a try. (This, of course, is why patrons are strongly encouraged to drop in only edible things.)

Don't forget, as well, about techiri (blowfish) nabe, buta (pork) nabe, yudofu (tofu) nabe, inoshishi (wild boar) nabe and the many, many, many extra variations about. Try your luck; get fed, get sociable.

Text: Jeff Lo • Photos: KS