Over the past twelve years, I’ve been increasing my knowledge and skills towards mastering cooking Japanese food.
Although my initial efforts in this direction were slow and haphazard, learning about Japanese cuisine and how to cook it ranges somewhere in my life between a strong interest and a passion.
And in many respects this preoccupation has transformed my life.
At the very least, like any hobby or avocation, cooking Japanese food is a distraction; it gives me a break from my academic life, gets me up from my desk and away from the computer screen. At its worst, my desire, need, and frequent obsession to master Japanese cooking dominates my waking hours. Frequently, no sooner have I completed cooking and eating a Japanese dish or meal, I start thinking about what my next recipe to tackle will be. No longer can I eat at a Japanese restaurant without trying to deconstruct the ingredients of the food I eat and how it was prepared. Sometimes, to the surprise (or embarrassment) of my fellow dinner guests, I may ask the waiter and/or chef all sorts of questions about the food, and tell them about my pursuits.
WHY DID I CHOOSE TO SPECIALIZE IN JAPANESE CUISINE?
I’m not completely sure why I chose to master cooking Japanese cuisine versus other ones. Growing up, I was periodically exposed to selected elements of Japanese culture. For example, one of my father’s largest clients was a Japanese corporation, and all of my siblings and I worked for this business at one time or another. At an early age, I also started practicing Karate, Kendo, and Judo. That being said, I’ve never visited Japan nor have I learned the language.
But my turn to cooking Japanese food began with a strong desire to improve my cooking ability in general, and then a decision to specialize. The choice of which type of cuisine I wanted to master was mostly motivated not by burning passion, but by a process of elimination of other cuisines.
Nonetheless, I don’t feel the need to become a master in preparing the full breadth of Japanese food. Although I enjoy eating Izakaya (Japanese street food), as well as sushi and sashimi (cold raw fish), I prefer cooking “Washoku,” also known as Japanese home cooking. These dishes are more traditional and frequently more complicated to make than what you will find in your typical Japanese restaurant. The complexity is a welcome challenge, and I enjoy overcoming the difficult recipes I encounter.
Most importantly I like learning how to perfect Japanese cooking because it values many of the same things I do: attention to detail, dedication, handwork, quality ingredients, precision, and presentation.
HOW DID I LEARN TO COOK JAPANESE FOOD?
Like most people I surfed the web looking for appropriate recipes. First, I started with those that were easiest to reproduce, then as my knowledge and skills improved, I tried more challenging recipes.
Over time, I studied influential Japanese cookbooks, watched online videos, attended a handful of workshops, and asked lots of questions. When I didn’t understand something and considered it to be important, I continued asking. In order to spur my motivation, I also started an Instagram page, @_gaijinchef.
WHAT BENEFITS HAS COOKING JAPANESE FOOD GIVEN ME?
Learning about and mastering how to cook Japanese food has provided me with a number of benefits.
First, I feel proud and confident in my skills when someone who appreciates good food tells me that they enjoy what I cook.
Second, it has given me immediate gratification to know that I could master a skill that I thought was largely unattainable for me.
Third, it has enabled me to appreciate other kinds of cuisine. In addition to trying to dissect Japanese dishes, I also attempt to parse out the elements from a variety of Asian cuisines (e.g., Burmese, Chinese, Filipino, Korean, Thai, etc.), as well as Indian and South American food.
Fourth, by cooking Japanese food on a regular basis, the burden of making decisions about what to eat and who is going to prepare is more equally shared in the family.
Fifth, it’s a welcome break from my disproportionate daily cerebral existence. As an academic, I spend the majority of my working day at a desk, on a computer, reading, writing, responding to e-mail, and teaching. This work is sedentary and mostly predictable.
And finally, just like sleep and physical exercise, cooking and mastering Japanese food, provides me with a sense of balance. I have become less focused on my professional life, and more about quality of life. It enables me to get perspective.
SOME SIMPLE TIPS I’VE LEARNED BY COOKING JAPANESE FOOD
In general, I have been able to master the basics of Japanese cooking pretty quickly, but developing expertise takes time and patience.
Here is my general advise to those wishing to learn how to cook Japanese food.
Start with appropriate raw ingredients. It’s important to begin with fresh, raw, and ingredients unique to the cuisine. Although a prospective Japanese chef can initially get by with many of the items that are sold in a well-stocked health food store, like Whole Foods, you really need access to an Asian market, or better still a Japanese market.
If you can’t immediately find the unique ingredients, either patiently search for them or explore suitable alternatives. In Washington, DC (where I live) I have access to one Japanese market, otherwise I have to make do with the limited offerings at Whole Foods. I occasionally take a trip to the deep suburbs of Rockville to visit Mariachi Market, one of the best Japanese grocery stores in the DMV area. If I visit New York City, I frequently stop by one of the many Japanese markets located there, and stock up on essentials.
Ask qualified experts who work in the field for their insights. Do not assume that you know all the answers to the challenges that you encounter, or can figure them out on your own. More specifically, people who have been working for a long time in the retail stores, markets and restaurants you frequent often have relevant opinions on ingredients and alternatives. Otherwise, numerous social media sites exist where you can ask people with experience in the field of Japanese cuisine.
Practice mis en place. Lay out in front of you all the food, ingredients, and utensils that you are going to use in the recipe. Try to cut the items that need cutting in the preferred manner before you start cooking. Don’t cut as you go along.
When designing and preparing a meal, appreciate the importance of sequencing, timing, and pairing. In other words, consider which part of the meal needs to be done first and which dish goes well with what. Certain parts of a meal need to be made first, others later. The issue of timing is also significant; think about different courses and the timelines entailed by them. Always think about the big picture.
Don’t under- or overcook the food. Understand the minimal viable conditions required to make your food enjoyable.
Understand that although fidelity to a recipe and taste are important qualities in making Japanese food, presentation is equally important. Strive for balance in texture and color. The food must be arranged nicely on the plate (i.e., plating). Think about what types of plates, bowls, etc., work best.
Don’t be afraid of breaking rules and becoming creative. Experiment with new types of food (e.g., vegetables, soups, meat, fish, seafood, seaweed, etc.).
Take notes on the recipes you prepare, and strive to make the recipe your own. This approach particularly applies to the amounts of ingredients, components (and their alternatives), and sequencing.
Likewise, although Japanese food primarily consists of frying, blanching, roasting, grilling, etc., it’s also important to experiment, try different ways of preparation than you normally do.
THE FUTURE
What is the moral or lesson to take away from this story?
As we get stuck in our lives and routines, our leisure-time hobbies and engagements run the risk of being abandoned or even worse completely discarded.
Sometimes it’s wise to spend a significant amount of time pursuing an interest or passion other than your profession.
Like it did for me, cooking Japanese food, may enable you to step away from your main professional pursuits, learn a new skill, and perhaps give you alternative perspectives on your work and life.
Life isn’t simply all about paying the bills, or pursuing a career pursuits. Sometimes it’s about having fun, and in my case, this has been achieved through learning about and improving my ability to cook Japanese cuisine.
Photo credit: Jeffrey Ian Ross
Black Cod cooked in sake, soy, & dashi
Modified from Morimoto’s original recipe
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/IMG_8290-scaled-e1667141535286.jpeg560500Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2022-10-30 15:14:162024-09-15 12:13:04How learning to cook Japanese food improved my life
No one likes to be exploited and this perhaps why over the past few years lots of social media posts have taken issue with “unpaid labor” that most academics are asked to do.
These messages outline the typical kinds of things graduate students, instructors and professors are requested to do (mostly submit papers to journals, review papers in peer review venues, review candidates for jobs and promotion, etc.) and sometimes how others (i.e. universities, academic organizations, and publishing companies) profit from it.
Conterminously a sub thread of these posts have focused on the disproportionate free service that people of color and women are asked to do (e.g., organizing, leading, and serving on diversity committees, participating on university and community panels dealing with this issue, etc.) above and beyond their white counterparts.
Unquestionably, the practice of free labor has been normalized in academic settings. And in the case of peer review, scholarly publishers have responded with gimmicks like Publons, that attempts to track the number of reviews you do. And big publishing companies have earned considerable profits from free academic labor and a better system needs to be put in place for remunerating scholars for their work.
I get it. If you are content at your rank, with your employer, and where you live then perhaps it’s fine to make these kinds of complaints, take this stance, and quietly quit. However if you want to secure a job in academia, and in some cases maintain your job, move to a better academic institution, earn tenure, secure a research grant, dream of earning a prestigious academic award (e.g., Guggenheim), and move up the ranks you are going to have to do a lot of free unpaid labor.
Also, for all sorts of vanity and legacy issues, perhaps you want to demonstrate to others that you are an expert. That you still have your chops. If that is the case then you are going to have do free academic labor.
Why? This unpaid academic work typically involves demonstrating to people on search, grant, and award review committees that you are research active, that you are involved in your learned society, and maybe even do some departmental, college, university and community service.
In this case, I don’t know how else you are going to have your cake and eat it too.
Similarly, in every academic setting there are one or more free riders, people who do not do departmental, college or university, learned society service. It’s not fair that a disproportionate burden is placed on a small number of faculty.
Also, it’s important to determine how much unpaid academic labor and what specific activities is normative in your school, unit, and discipline and not drift into situations where you are overworked with agreeing to engage in unpaid free labor. For example, if the norm is reviewing twelve scholarly papers a year, and two external candidates for tenure or promotion a year, then you are in your right to say enough is enough when someone asks you to do more.
Another thing to keep in mind. Let’s say you are content with your rank, university, location etc. and say to hell with doing any more unpaid academic labor. This means that you are leaving the gate keeping/research agenda setting function of research to junior colleagues (typically untenured assistant professors and associate professors). Again, you may be okay with this state of affairs, but I think it is blatantly wrong.
Finally, if getting paid for your academic research skills and knowledge is what you want then you should try your hand at commercial publishing or writing textbooks. You will soon learn how challenging this is and what small remittances that you will earn.
Photo Credit: Charlie Chaplin from the movie MODERN TIMES
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/Screen-Shot-2022-10-23-at-9.26.04-AM.png468644Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2022-10-23 15:28:472022-10-23 15:28:47Most complaints about unpaid academic labor ignore context
In addition to teaching and service duties, most professors are required to engage in scholarship. Although this can take various forms, scholarship is usually resource intensive, cerebral, requires lots of concentration, is often done in a solitary setting, and more challenging then most outsiders to academia realize.
This work has a number of downsides. Some the drawbacks include the proclivity to develop a kind of tunnel vision, and the possibility of evolving into a one trick pony, and becoming an intolerable bore; the person people quickly avoid at academic and nonacademic social functions.
That’s why it’s important for scholars to do non scholarly things besides commuting, grocery shopping, cooking meals, cleaning up, taking care of dependents, and maybe even a modicum of physical exercise.
At a basic level scholars need some sort of distraction. This can be as simple as going for periodic or regular walks, or even taking regular vacations, and here I am not talking about going to an academic conference and calling it a vacation. Sometimes this non research activity can take the form of activism, but I’m talking about something qualitatively different here.
At a deeper level scholars need to take up something beyond researching and writing that consumes their energies and interests, that they find challenging, but also enjoy and on a regular basis.
For example, scholars might consider engaging in (and perfecting) a creative activity like painting, photography, or cooking. Some of my colleagues, for instance, love learning to play a musical instrument and then joining a band, that performs on weekends and holidays, at social occasions or even local bars.
Alternatively scholars can pour themselves into a physical pursuit like distance running, hiking, mountain climbing or horseback riding.
In short, the hobby forces scholars to get away from their labs, offices and computers, use another part of their brain, and possibly interact not just with their significant other, children if that is the case, friends and acquaintances, but people other than colleagues, students, and university administrators.
If scholars are adept in these social venues then they have more opportunities to hone their social skills because they will be exposed to different kinds of audiences that they may rarely interact with.
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/22929628731_9dec861971_o-scaled.jpg12292560Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2022-10-16 05:20:582024-09-15 12:13:40All work and no play makes Jack and Jill dull scholars
How learning to cook Japanese food improved my life
/by Jeffrey Ian RossOver the past twelve years, I’ve been increasing my knowledge and skills towards mastering cooking Japanese food.
Although my initial efforts in this direction were slow and haphazard, learning about Japanese cuisine and how to cook it ranges somewhere in my life between a strong interest and a passion.
And in many respects this preoccupation has transformed my life.
At the very least, like any hobby or avocation, cooking Japanese food is a distraction; it gives me a break from my academic life, gets me up from my desk and away from the computer screen. At its worst, my desire, need, and frequent obsession to master Japanese cooking dominates my waking hours. Frequently, no sooner have I completed cooking and eating a Japanese dish or meal, I start thinking about what my next recipe to tackle will be. No longer can I eat at a Japanese restaurant without trying to deconstruct the ingredients of the food I eat and how it was prepared. Sometimes, to the surprise (or embarrassment) of my fellow dinner guests, I may ask the waiter and/or chef all sorts of questions about the food, and tell them about my pursuits.
WHY DID I CHOOSE TO SPECIALIZE IN JAPANESE CUISINE?
I’m not completely sure why I chose to master cooking Japanese cuisine versus other ones. Growing up, I was periodically exposed to selected elements of Japanese culture. For example, one of my father’s largest clients was a Japanese corporation, and all of my siblings and I worked for this business at one time or another. At an early age, I also started practicing Karate, Kendo, and Judo. That being said, I’ve never visited Japan nor have I learned the language.
But my turn to cooking Japanese food began with a strong desire to improve my cooking ability in general, and then a decision to specialize. The choice of which type of cuisine I wanted to master was mostly motivated not by burning passion, but by a process of elimination of other cuisines.
Nonetheless, I don’t feel the need to become a master in preparing the full breadth of Japanese food. Although I enjoy eating Izakaya (Japanese street food), as well as sushi and sashimi (cold raw fish), I prefer cooking “Washoku,” also known as Japanese home cooking. These dishes are more traditional and frequently more complicated to make than what you will find in your typical Japanese restaurant. The complexity is a welcome challenge, and I enjoy overcoming the difficult recipes I encounter.
Most importantly I like learning how to perfect Japanese cooking because it values many of the same things I do: attention to detail, dedication, handwork, quality ingredients, precision, and presentation.
HOW DID I LEARN TO COOK JAPANESE FOOD?
Like most people I surfed the web looking for appropriate recipes. First, I started with those that were easiest to reproduce, then as my knowledge and skills improved, I tried more challenging recipes.
Over time, I studied influential Japanese cookbooks, watched online videos, attended a handful of workshops, and asked lots of questions. When I didn’t understand something and considered it to be important, I continued asking. In order to spur my motivation, I also started an Instagram page, @_gaijinchef.
WHAT BENEFITS HAS COOKING JAPANESE FOOD GIVEN ME?
Learning about and mastering how to cook Japanese food has provided me with a number of benefits.
First, I feel proud and confident in my skills when someone who appreciates good food tells me that they enjoy what I cook.
Second, it has given me immediate gratification to know that I could master a skill that I thought was largely unattainable for me.
Third, it has enabled me to appreciate other kinds of cuisine. In addition to trying to dissect Japanese dishes, I also attempt to parse out the elements from a variety of Asian cuisines (e.g., Burmese, Chinese, Filipino, Korean, Thai, etc.), as well as Indian and South American food.
Fourth, by cooking Japanese food on a regular basis, the burden of making decisions about what to eat and who is going to prepare is more equally shared in the family.
Fifth, it’s a welcome break from my disproportionate daily cerebral existence. As an academic, I spend the majority of my working day at a desk, on a computer, reading, writing, responding to e-mail, and teaching. This work is sedentary and mostly predictable.
And finally, just like sleep and physical exercise, cooking and mastering Japanese food, provides me with a sense of balance. I have become less focused on my professional life, and more about quality of life. It enables me to get perspective.
SOME SIMPLE TIPS I’VE LEARNED BY COOKING JAPANESE FOOD
In general, I have been able to master the basics of Japanese cooking pretty quickly, but developing expertise takes time and patience.
Here is my general advise to those wishing to learn how to cook Japanese food.
Start with appropriate raw ingredients. It’s important to begin with fresh, raw, and ingredients unique to the cuisine. Although a prospective Japanese chef can initially get by with many of the items that are sold in a well-stocked health food store, like Whole Foods, you really need access to an Asian market, or better still a Japanese market.
If you can’t immediately find the unique ingredients, either patiently search for them or explore suitable alternatives. In Washington, DC (where I live) I have access to one Japanese market, otherwise I have to make do with the limited offerings at Whole Foods. I occasionally take a trip to the deep suburbs of Rockville to visit Mariachi Market, one of the best Japanese grocery stores in the DMV area. If I visit New York City, I frequently stop by one of the many Japanese markets located there, and stock up on essentials.
Ask qualified experts who work in the field for their insights. Do not assume that you know all the answers to the challenges that you encounter, or can figure them out on your own. More specifically, people who have been working for a long time in the retail stores, markets and restaurants you frequent often have relevant opinions on ingredients and alternatives. Otherwise, numerous social media sites exist where you can ask people with experience in the field of Japanese cuisine.
Practice mis en place. Lay out in front of you all the food, ingredients, and utensils that you are going to use in the recipe. Try to cut the items that need cutting in the preferred manner before you start cooking. Don’t cut as you go along.
When designing and preparing a meal, appreciate the importance of sequencing, timing, and pairing. In other words, consider which part of the meal needs to be done first and which dish goes well with what. Certain parts of a meal need to be made first, others later. The issue of timing is also significant; think about different courses and the timelines entailed by them. Always think about the big picture.
Don’t under- or overcook the food. Understand the minimal viable conditions required to make your food enjoyable.
Understand that although fidelity to a recipe and taste are important qualities in making Japanese food, presentation is equally important. Strive for balance in texture and color. The food must be arranged nicely on the plate (i.e., plating). Think about what types of plates, bowls, etc., work best.
Don’t be afraid of breaking rules and becoming creative. Experiment with new types of food (e.g., vegetables, soups, meat, fish, seafood, seaweed, etc.).
Take notes on the recipes you prepare, and strive to make the recipe your own. This approach particularly applies to the amounts of ingredients, components (and their alternatives), and sequencing.
Likewise, although Japanese food primarily consists of frying, blanching, roasting, grilling, etc., it’s also important to experiment, try different ways of preparation than you normally do.
THE FUTURE
What is the moral or lesson to take away from this story?
As we get stuck in our lives and routines, our leisure-time hobbies and engagements run the risk of being abandoned or even worse completely discarded.
Sometimes it’s wise to spend a significant amount of time pursuing an interest or passion other than your profession.
Like it did for me, cooking Japanese food, may enable you to step away from your main professional pursuits, learn a new skill, and perhaps give you alternative perspectives on your work and life.
Life isn’t simply all about paying the bills, or pursuing a career pursuits. Sometimes it’s about having fun, and in my case, this has been achieved through learning about and improving my ability to cook Japanese cuisine.
Photo credit: Jeffrey Ian Ross
Black Cod cooked in sake, soy, & dashi
Modified from Morimoto’s original recipe
Most complaints about unpaid academic labor ignore context
/by Jeffrey Ian RossNo one likes to be exploited and this perhaps why over the past few years lots of social media posts have taken issue with “unpaid labor” that most academics are asked to do.
These messages outline the typical kinds of things graduate students, instructors and professors are requested to do (mostly submit papers to journals, review papers in peer review venues, review candidates for jobs and promotion, etc.) and sometimes how others (i.e. universities, academic organizations, and publishing companies) profit from it.
Conterminously a sub thread of these posts have focused on the disproportionate free service that people of color and women are asked to do (e.g., organizing, leading, and serving on diversity committees, participating on university and community panels dealing with this issue, etc.) above and beyond their white counterparts.
Unquestionably, the practice of free labor has been normalized in academic settings. And in the case of peer review, scholarly publishers have responded with gimmicks like Publons, that attempts to track the number of reviews you do. And big publishing companies have earned considerable profits from free academic labor and a better system needs to be put in place for remunerating scholars for their work.
I get it. If you are content at your rank, with your employer, and where you live then perhaps it’s fine to make these kinds of complaints, take this stance, and quietly quit. However if you want to secure a job in academia, and in some cases maintain your job, move to a better academic institution, earn tenure, secure a research grant, dream of earning a prestigious academic award (e.g., Guggenheim), and move up the ranks you are going to have to do a lot of free unpaid labor.
Also, for all sorts of vanity and legacy issues, perhaps you want to demonstrate to others that you are an expert. That you still have your chops. If that is the case then you are going to have do free academic labor.
Why? This unpaid academic work typically involves demonstrating to people on search, grant, and award review committees that you are research active, that you are involved in your learned society, and maybe even do some departmental, college, university and community service.
In this case, I don’t know how else you are going to have your cake and eat it too.
But it’s also disingenuous when colleagues decry the amount and type of unpaid academic labor, never review for scholarly journals when asked, but still submit their papers to a peer review journal. (I suspect that many of these individuals are also the people who complain when it takes so long for their papers to be reviewed).
Similarly, in every academic setting there are one or more free riders, people who do not do departmental, college or university, learned society service. It’s not fair that a disproportionate burden is placed on a small number of faculty.
Also, it’s important to determine how much unpaid academic labor and what specific activities is normative in your school, unit, and discipline and not drift into situations where you are overworked with agreeing to engage in unpaid free labor. For example, if the norm is reviewing twelve scholarly papers a year, and two external candidates for tenure or promotion a year, then you are in your right to say enough is enough when someone asks you to do more.
Another thing to keep in mind. Let’s say you are content with your rank, university, location etc. and say to hell with doing any more unpaid academic labor. This means that you are leaving the gate keeping/research agenda setting function of research to junior colleagues (typically untenured assistant professors and associate professors). Again, you may be okay with this state of affairs, but I think it is blatantly wrong.
Finally, if getting paid for your academic research skills and knowledge is what you want then you should try your hand at commercial publishing or writing textbooks. You will soon learn how challenging this is and what small remittances that you will earn.
Photo Credit: Charlie Chaplin from the movie MODERN TIMES
All work and no play makes Jack and Jill dull scholars
/by Jeffrey Ian RossIn addition to teaching and service duties, most professors are required to engage in scholarship. Although this can take various forms, scholarship is usually resource intensive, cerebral, requires lots of concentration, is often done in a solitary setting, and more challenging then most outsiders to academia realize.
This work has a number of downsides. Some the drawbacks include the proclivity to develop a kind of tunnel vision, and the possibility of evolving into a one trick pony, and becoming an intolerable bore; the person people quickly avoid at academic and nonacademic social functions.
That’s why it’s important for scholars to do non scholarly things besides commuting, grocery shopping, cooking meals, cleaning up, taking care of dependents, and maybe even a modicum of physical exercise.
At a basic level scholars need some sort of distraction. This can be as simple as going for periodic or regular walks, or even taking regular vacations, and here I am not talking about going to an academic conference and calling it a vacation. Sometimes this non research activity can take the form of activism, but I’m talking about something qualitatively different here.
At a deeper level scholars need to take up something beyond researching and writing that consumes their energies and interests, that they find challenging, but also enjoy and on a regular basis.
For example, scholars might consider engaging in (and perfecting) a creative activity like painting, photography, or cooking. Some of my colleagues, for instance, love learning to play a musical instrument and then joining a band, that performs on weekends and holidays, at social occasions or even local bars.
Alternatively scholars can pour themselves into a physical pursuit like distance running, hiking, mountain climbing or horseback riding.
In short, the hobby forces scholars to get away from their labs, offices and computers, use another part of their brain, and possibly interact not just with their significant other, children if that is the case, friends and acquaintances, but people other than colleagues, students, and university administrators.
If scholars are adept in these social venues then they have more opportunities to hone their social skills because they will be exposed to different kinds of audiences that they may rarely interact with.
The good thing about devoting oneself to one or more hobbies is that it could also provide scholars with ideas that they can bring to their research and teaching. And overall that’s a good thing.
Photo Credit: Plashing Vole
Potter’s Wheel DSC_0494