Not everyone wants to eat a pile of cooked fungus on a plate. Even
I, who love mushrooms of all kinds, don’t particularly like eating a
mound of them straight. I also wouldn’t like eating a mound of carrots
or a mound of pure onions straight either, yet I also use both those
things constantly in my cooking. That is my metaphor for what I think
mushrooms are: not a main component of most dishes, but an important
part that’s there to give structure and flavor without being the point
of the dish. Carrots, celery and onions are all diced and then simmered
and stewed to make the base of a good Bolognese sauce, but no one eats
Bolognese and goes “Umm. I love these carrots and celery.”
I
think the mushroom industry could make enormous inroads if they just
fully adapted that mindset. One of the reasons why, unlike most actual
farmers I’ve heard from, I like The Blend campaign so much is because
it’s an elegantly simple way of tackling the issue. Look, there are two
issues. 1) a lot of people aren’t big on the texture of mushrooms (three
years into eating mushrooms nearly every day, I’ve finally started to
develop a fondness for the texture). 2) a lot of people have it in their
heads they don’t like mushrooms or that mushrooms are weird and gross.
Those two issues have informed my entire
approach to the topic for the past two years of running this journal. I
think a lot of mushroom recipes write for a small minority of people
that love mushrooms (and sometimes also for people that love a
complicated recipe), whereas I’ve approached the topic every time with a
goal of putting together recipes that someone who hates mushrooms could
be tricked into eating without them noticing. The fact is that the
average American consumer eats something like 5 grams or under of
mushrooms (all varieties) a day on average over the year. The figure in
Japan is more like 15 grams a day, and in Nagano, the biggest mushroom
producing area, 21 grams. I’ve seen some figures for China that suggest
averages of over 25 grams.
Those figures mean
that just getting different varieties of mushrooms into different
popular home foods, processed foods and restaurant foods could triple
the current consumption of mushrooms without any widespread adoption of
fungi as a meat substitute and just purely be better integrating
mushrooms into existing food culture. Hanabiratake is one of my favorite
examples of this. I use it a lot, and no one has ever been able to
guess when I’ve used it in something. I always put hanabiratake in my
solyanka soup, (along with shimeji). I use it (with eryngii) in my pork
kimchi stir fry. I use it, diced, in my maitake Bolognese, as a gyoza
(dumpling) filling, and many more. I’ve used it with chicken noodle soup
(again with shimeji too), chili, frittata, and jambalaya.
Hanabiratake
has no smell raw, and even cooked, it has only a faint savory smell and
a very faint umami flavor. It has the effect of amplifying meaty
flavors, and also rich flavors from cooking oils and vegetables. It has
great compatibility with tomatoes, olives (and olive oil), sesame oil,
pork, kimchi, eggs, cabbage, other mushrooms, and spicy foods. When
cutting hanabiratake, for some soups and stir fries with large chunks of
cabbage or kimchi in them, you can just crumble it with your bare
hands. Dicing hanabiratake is a little more troublesome, but with a food
processor it’s fast and easy to dice to a fine mince.
As
I wrote in my introduction the variety in the article about Oigawa
Electric Company, I’m a big fan of hanabiratake. In fact, due to the
fact it is neither especially well-known or popular in Japan or Western
markets, I have an irrelevant ambition to become known as that one weird
guy who popularized hanabiratake. Every yuppie wants to be the first
person to like something cool, and try as I might, I can’t escape my
generational pull in the same direction. But, all joking aside, I do
adore this variety of mushroom; it’s just extremely easy to use, not
obtrusive, and also very healthy. It is also a very effective
flavor-booster and I find its presence helps integrate different savory
flavors together with less work and technique than I otherwise need.
I
decided to use two somewhat more time-intensive dishes with
hanabiratake. For a Western dish, I picked New England Clam Chowder,
going for a bisque soup with deep roots in the traditions of American
cuisine and also ties to principles of French cooking. I felt that
chowder offered a good chance to show off the savory-boosting (but
without any added viscosity to the broth or unnecessary flavors) aspect
of hanabiratake in a classic and well-known dish. For Japan, I truly
wanted to showcase Japanese gyoza, the Japanese take on Chinese
dumplings, but the spotty to non-existent availability of pre-cut
wrappers or skins for the dumplings makes an already time consuming and
tedious meal even more so. Making proper dough then kneading out each
wrapper is a finnicky art itself.