This year, next year, sometime, never
Prior to this evening, my major accomplishments for the day were cleaning two bathrooms and baking a nut-flour cake. (I was helping my mother around the house. My aunt is visiting from the West Coast this weekend.) As of this evening, I would say my major accomplishment for the day was learning how to make okonomiyaki with
sairaali.
I do not know why Wikipedia calls okonomiyaki "Japanese pizza." They're both circular and you can put anything you feel like on them. By this logic, plates are a form of pizza and so are DVDs. My closest culinary referent for okonomiyaki came out when I exclaimed, after several minutes of stirring the dense, sticky batter of shredded cabbage, grated nagaimo, chopped spinach, chopped mushrooms, and pickled red ginger, "These are the snottiest latkes I've ever made."
(That would be the nagaimo. Japanese mountain yam. Dioscorea polystachya, the internet tells me. I have never encountered anything like this plant before. It looks like a perfectly straightforward tuber with a lightly freckled skin and a crisp white interior. We bought it packaged in shrink-wrap from H-Mart. It crunches when you cut it. So far, so vegetal. And then you begin to grate it and it's mucilage all the way down. It practically dissolves into whitish strings of glop. It looks like a handkerchief failure. Or an accident in a rubber cement factory. I would love to know, botanically, what causes this effect: it looks hilariously disgusting and it is responsible for the characteristic texture of okonomiyaki. If it's responsible for any of the taste, I can't hold anything against it except its appearance. Okay, and the fact that when raw it's an irritant to human skin, but the chemicals responsible cook off really quickly. I now want to try making latkes with nagaimo as the binder instead of egg—I've never really had a good recipe for vegan latkes, and judging by the fluffiness and the tenderness of the okonomiyaki, mountain yam feels like the way to go. There's some egg in the okonomiyaki batter, but it's not the primary liquid. I suspect it would work without.)
I had never had okonomiyaki before. Apparently it is difficult to get in the U.S., or at least difficult to get properly made. Fortunately, Saira knows how to make it;
rushthatspeaks and
gaudior joined us as we were moving from the chopping to the cooking stage; now I know that I really like okonomiyaki and I'm already thinking about other fillings that I would fold into the batter and other toppings I might want to eat it with. We had Kewpie mayonnaise, tonkatsu sauce, and bonito flakes. (I went home with the bag of bonito flakes. I have stashed them in the pantry alongside the various Korean foodstuffs
yhlee has been sending me. The cats are becoming really curious about the dried seaweed, puffed rice, dried sweet potato, and now multiple kinds of fish.) Leftover spinach and mushrooms turned into a quick stir-fry on the side. It was ridiculously tasty. Afterward there was a sort of decompression period of hanging out, eating fruit, and admiring the blue-and-orange nudibranch Saira was knitting. Eventually I got a ride home and was pounced upon by cats who are simultaneously attempting to convince me that they have never been petted and never been fed.
So far, this weekend, so good.
I do not know why Wikipedia calls okonomiyaki "Japanese pizza." They're both circular and you can put anything you feel like on them. By this logic, plates are a form of pizza and so are DVDs. My closest culinary referent for okonomiyaki came out when I exclaimed, after several minutes of stirring the dense, sticky batter of shredded cabbage, grated nagaimo, chopped spinach, chopped mushrooms, and pickled red ginger, "These are the snottiest latkes I've ever made."
(That would be the nagaimo. Japanese mountain yam. Dioscorea polystachya, the internet tells me. I have never encountered anything like this plant before. It looks like a perfectly straightforward tuber with a lightly freckled skin and a crisp white interior. We bought it packaged in shrink-wrap from H-Mart. It crunches when you cut it. So far, so vegetal. And then you begin to grate it and it's mucilage all the way down. It practically dissolves into whitish strings of glop. It looks like a handkerchief failure. Or an accident in a rubber cement factory. I would love to know, botanically, what causes this effect: it looks hilariously disgusting and it is responsible for the characteristic texture of okonomiyaki. If it's responsible for any of the taste, I can't hold anything against it except its appearance. Okay, and the fact that when raw it's an irritant to human skin, but the chemicals responsible cook off really quickly. I now want to try making latkes with nagaimo as the binder instead of egg—I've never really had a good recipe for vegan latkes, and judging by the fluffiness and the tenderness of the okonomiyaki, mountain yam feels like the way to go. There's some egg in the okonomiyaki batter, but it's not the primary liquid. I suspect it would work without.)
I had never had okonomiyaki before. Apparently it is difficult to get in the U.S., or at least difficult to get properly made. Fortunately, Saira knows how to make it;
So far, this weekend, so good.

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I really miss Rice Krispies treats. I used to make them semi-regularly. They're one of the few completely terrible things that I enjoy eating.
But if there's anything you particularly like, let me know and I'll keep an eye out.
I shall certainly keep you posted. Right now all I can remember is that I need to buy more coconut milk, which is not your problem.
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That's good to know. That sounds dangerous.
(I like bonito flakes a lot, but I like most forms of fish a lot. My life needs more fish in it, really.)
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Hee!
Hope the rest of your weekend is as delicious and hilarious.
Nine
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I had a head start on learning how to make these, because I'm a fan of a (sadly, now deceased) YouTube entertainer who devoted an episode of his cooking show to making okonomiyaki. Find it here, if you're curious: http://blip.tv/youcanplaythis/you-can-cook-this-okonomiyaki-6614170
Actually, I have half a cabbage in the refrigerator. You're making me think I need to try this.
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(I confess I am insufficiently familiar with latkes to render an opinion on whether that's a closer analogy than the omelet one.)
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My family makes them very simply: shredded potato bound together with egg and salt and black pepper, fried in a skillet with oil. I don't actually like them very much, but I don't like most things made with potato. I enjoy making latkes for people and I'd like to have a viable vegan option that doesn't fall apart in the pan or run the risk of making me ill (I'm allergic to flaxseed).
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*love*
Glad you are enjoying okonomiyaki, whose name pretty much requires that you do :-)