Good Eats (1999–2012): Season 13, Episode 11 - The Once and Future Fish - full transcript

Mmm. [ Smacks lips ]

Hmm.

Mm. [ Chuckles ]

This is good.

Islands of tofu
Adrift in a dashi sea

Miso soft as clouds

What can I say?

The simple soup
in this lovely lacquered bowl

brings out the poet in me.

I speak, of course,
of the often abused

and misused
sushi‐bar standard miso soup.



Which,
when properly prepared,

is a delicious
and beguilingly nutritious brew,

embodying the very essence
of Japanese cuisine.

Now learning to make
this soup is in and of itself

like, I don't know, giving
a gift to your entire household.

But, what's more important

is that it will introduce
into your kitchen

a small cast of pantry players,

each of which possesses
the power

to elevate even your most
humble victuals into...

♪ "Good Eats" ♪

Although many Americans

tend to think
of Japanese cuisine

only in terms of fresh foods ‐‐
you know, sushi and the like ‐‐



the truth is
the real workhorse ingredients

of that island nation
are pantry ingredients,

which can be easily procured

without a passport
or a fistful of yen.

Now, as a Japanese cuisine
otaku, or fanatic,

I've been able to find
just about everything

that I could want on
that new‐fangled world wide web.

But, your local megamart
probably

hosts more Japanese items than
you've ever thought.

And your town may even host
a small Japanese market.

If so,
[As Yoda] seek it out you must.

[ Gong dings ]

[ Normal voice ] Konnichiwa.

Konnichiwa...[Muttering]

Wow.
I didn't get his accent.

He must be from Osaka
or something.

Anyway,
here's the Japanese market.

Now odds are good
you're not going

to see a lot of English
in places like this.

But the Japanese do like to know
what they're buying.

So packages usually feature
see‐through windows like this.

Okay.
And, oh, oh, oh.

These are like my favorite,
these are my favorite snacks.

All right check this out,
it's like little nut bags,

except look close,
those aren't nuts

they're little fried fishies.
I love them.

They're extraordinarily oishii,
that means delicious.

And I think...
I'm getting sidetracked.

The first item of business
here is to brew up a dashi,

or cooking stock.

Now, what isn't served raw,
grilled, or fried in Japan

is generally simmered in dashi.

And now that I think of it,
dashi goes into most

of the sauces
that are served alongside foods

that are raw,
fried, or grilled.

So it truly is a ubiquitous
ingredient.

Now, a lot of different
things can go into a dashi.

But two, well,
two things are required.

The first one, kombu.

All right now kombu looks
like something

you might make a wallet
out of at camp,

but it is actually
a completely ‐‐

[ Shouts indistinctly ]

Sorry. Sumimasen.
Sumimasen. I'll buy it.

Must have
a lot of shoplifting here.

Kombu is actually
a dried form of kelp,

harvested from cold water.

It's dried
and packaged like this.

Now, kombu is interesting stuff

because it contains
high amounts of glutamates,

essentially all natural,
unrefined, monosodium glutamate.

Which has the uncanny capability

of making everything
it touches taste, well,

oishii, yummier.
but more on that later.

Kombu is also fascinating
from a nutritional standpoint

because although
it's technically a vegetable,

it contains high amounts
of iodine, iron, potassium,

B vitamins, and carotene.

So it's delicious, unctuous,

and well, you could
live off it forever.

And might I remind you

not only do the Japanese
live to a median age of 80,

but when you're over there,
the only fat people

you see are sumo wrestlers
and...

[ Grunts ]

Besides dashi, kombu

can also be pickled,
shredded, fried,

used in a bunch
of different ways.

Now the second big dashi
ingredient

is dried benito, okay?

It's also called katsuobushi.

And for that,
well we'll go to an expert.

[ Clears throat ]

Katsuobushi o kudasai.

Katsuobushi, oh!
Hi‐ya!

Hey, wait, wait, no, no!

Ha! [ Laughs ]

Katsuobushi.

Oh, katsuobushi.

Thank you.
Yeah I know.

It looks like a block of wood,
but it actually isn't.

It is indeed a fish,
a benito, in fact.

Of course, thank you.

As he points out, only the
Japanese really call it benito.

The rest of the world
refers to it as skipjack tuna ‐‐

one of the few tuna
that is really considered

to be sustainable
or in healthy stocks worldwide.

So how do you take a fish

and make a little
miniature baseball bat?

Well let's ask him.

First, the fish must be caught.

And this is done
by many fishermen on the boat,

each with his own line.

After they've landed, the fish
are filleted into two pieces,

and the really large ones
halved again.

The fish is then simmered
in water for 20 minutes

to set the protein structure.

Then, the bones are removed

and the fish are smoked
over oak or cherry wood

for six hours a day
for two weeks

before being placed
in the sun to dry.

Then the fish are moved
into a cave

containing a special mold.

Then after two weeks,

the fish
are placed back in the sun,

then moved back into the cave,

until the fish is done
and hard as a piece of oak.

Fascinating story.

Well, now that the benito,
sorry, skipjack

has been converted
into katsuobushi, of course

it's not good for much
until it is grated, or shaved,

with a very specific device.

I speak, of course,
of the benito shaver,

which is a lot like
a carpenter's plane.

See the blade there?
Only there's a little drawer

underneath
to catch the shavings.

Please demonstrate.

[ Grunts ]

This'll be good.

[ Grunting ]

Luckily, only the most
finicky Japanese cooks

put up with that process.

Most folks buy
their benito flakes like this,

in nice, convenient,
pre‐shaved packs.

This stuff is tasty,

it's easy to use, and as long
as it stays packaged,

it is impervious to the march
of time in your pantry.

I'm going to get both of 'em.

You know, he looks busy.
I'll just ‐‐ I'll come back.

♪

Traditional
European‐style stocks,

like a chicken
or veal stock,

depend upon bones
and connective tissue

for flavor and texture,

which is one
of the reasons

that they take a really,
really long time to cook.

Dashi, on the other hand,
cooks very quickly.

But, there is an order

to the operation
that's important

because kombu and katsuobushi
give off their full flavors

at different temperatures.

So, let's start with the kombu.

Now there is a considerable
amount of flavor right

up at the surface
of these leaves.

This white powder is, in fact,
not mold or dust,

but a dried form
of a carbohydrate.

You can think of it as
seaweed starch.

And there's a lot
of flavor in that.

So just grab your scissors
and snip.

It's kind of leathery
and is kind of tough.

Whatever's left
over you can seal up

in a zip‐top bag,

and keep
until the cows come home.

There.

Now this will give us
all the flavor we need.

But, it can't cook right away.

First it's got to soak.

So into 2 1/2 quarts of water

in a 4‐quart saucepan
for 30 minutes.

That will allow for
a re‐hydration of the product

until it looks, well,
pretty much

like you would expect
seaweed to look.

Put this to medium
to medium high heat,

until the water reaches
between 150 and 160 degrees

and bubbles just start to break

around the outside edge
of the pot.

Then evacuate the kombu,
but don't throw it away,

you can actually make
a second stock from it later.

Boost the heat
to high,

measure yourself out 1/2 ounce,
about 2 cups of katsuobushi.

When the water boils,
sprinkle the katsuobushi

over the water,

drop the heat to low,
bring that just to a simmer,

and then stir every now
and then for ten minutes,

no longer.

Just like a chicken
or veal stock,

our dashi must be strained
prior to use.

I just use a hand strainer lined
with a piece of muslin cloth.

But you could use cheesecloth
if you so prefer.

But don't throw away
those fish pieces,

we're going to use them later.
There.

Let us now move
to the second pillar

of Japanese cuisine ‐‐ tofu.

Now, we've toyed with tofu
on this program before,

but let's refresh
our knowledge base.

It all begins with soybeans,

which have been called
the cow of Asia.

An apt moniker
considering the fact

that tofu production is nearly
identical to cheese making.

Only instead of cow's milk,
you use soy milk.

To produce soy milk,
first you take the pods,

you remove the inner beans,
you dry the inner beans,

crush the inner beans,

and then cook
the inner beans in water.

Allow them to soak
and then drain them

to get this solid‐which

you can feed to your cows
and goats‐and soy milk.

Now soy milk
has to be coagulated

by adding either calcium sulfate
from gypsum,

or magnesium chloride,
which is called nigari, I think.

That will leave you
with something that looks a lot

like a cheese curd.

Now just as with cheddaring,

you can squeeze that curd

to remove some of the moisture,

and that'll leave you
with firm tofu.

Or, you can leave the moisture
inside,

which will give you
a very soft, creamy tofu,

known in Japan as silken.

Open pantry.

The really nice thing
about silken tofu is that,

unlike firm,
Chinese‐style tofus,

which are squeezed, packed
in water and then refrigerated,

silken tofu can be squirted

into shelf‐stable
aseptic containers

where it coagulates
under a vacuum

and therefore, will keep
for months, if not years,

at room temperature.

A potent, protein‐laden pantry
pal if ever there was one.

Close pantry!

Now, although we can also
certainly appreciate

the pudding‐like consistency

of silken tofu,
if we tried to cube it up

and put it in our soup
in this state,

it will just fall apart.

What we need to do is to make it
just a little bit firmer.

Luckily, it's very porous stuff

and we can squeeze
some moisture out of it.

Just take a few pieces
of paper towel,

and you can use
any kitchen towel

as long as it's lint‐free,

roll it up thusly,

position another plate
right on top,

and squeeze it with
just a bit of weight.

I think 28 ounces
should just about do it.

Time?
Well, I think

that probably 20 minutes
will do the trick.

That'll be just enough time

for us to talk
about the ingredient

that gave this soup its name.

[ Gong dings ]

[ Japanese music playing ]

Um...Miso is a paste
made from soybeans

that have been ground

with a grain
such as rice or barley,

that's been inoculated
with a mold‐based

fermenting agent
called a koji.

Miso is often called Japanese
peanut butter.

Not only
because it looks, feels,

and well to some extent,
tastes like the American staple,

but because it is
nearly as ubiquitous.

Ah, miso!

[ Speaking Japanese ]

Shiromiso, or white miso.

Oh, because
of its subtle sweetness,

white miso is often used
in Japanese desserts.

Akamiso, or red miso,
is redder than shiromiso.

Red miso
like a "country style"

or akamiso.

[ Mumbling, shouting ]

‐Ha!
‐Ha! Hi!

[ Mumbles ]

Red miso is really great
for braising meats,

like beef and pork.

So I usually keep it around,
too.

Awasemiso is a blend
of many misos...

[ Speaks indistinctly ]

‐Hi.
‐Hi.

I have absolutely no idea
what he's saying.

But I would say
that if you're only

going to keep
one type of miso

in the house,
make it the awasemiso,

because it's just more
convenient and versatile.

Oh, and I want to talk
about nutrition for a second ‐‐

Enzyme and the phytochemical
in miso

are good for the health,

keep the...[Stutters]

and for the...[Mumbles]

Yeah, whatever he said.

But it is really important
that you buy miso

that isn't loaded up
with chemicals,

MSG, artificial flavorings,
and preservatives.

For shame.

Ooh.

‐[ Mumbles ]
‐Hey, now.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.
Don't do it.

Don't do it, don't do it.
It's okay. It's okay.

It's okay. It's all right.
Put that one down.

Look, I'm going
to take these, okay?

I'm going to take some red
because I like it.

I'm going to take
some of the white.

I'm going to take the awase.

I'm going
to take these all, okay?

Just put 'em on my tab, okay?

‐Bye‐bye.
‐Bye‐bye. Bye‐bye.

Tab.

No tab! Hi‐yi!

♪

Time to make the soup.

8 cups,
that's 2 quarts of dashi go

into a 4‐quart saucepan
over medium high heat.

Now, when the dashi
reaches 100 degrees,

ladle one cup off
into a mixing bowl,

and then whisk
in 8 tablespoon of miso.

Now I'm going to go with
6 tablespoons of red miso

and 2 of white because well,
that's just what I like.

You can mix it up as you wish.

Time to retrieve the tofu.

And you will see that a lot
of moisture

has been squeezed out.

That's a lot of moisture.

Now this is something
we want to cut into cubes,

about a 1/2 inch to 3/4 inch.

But it's very soft,
so use a sharp knife,

go slowly and be careful.

I usually just do a slice
at a time

and knock that down into cubes

until I'm completely done.

It'll take you a little longer,
maybe.

There,
we have attained a simmer.

So whisk in the miso mixture

and continue
to just barely simmer.

Don't boil it or it will get
grainy no matter what.

Now at this point, go ahead

and gently add the tofu ‐‐

very gently, so it doesn't
fall apart ‐‐

and four scallions,
very, very thinly sliced.

Then just kill the heat

and let it sit
for two to three minutes

or until the flavor
of the onion kind

of infuses the stock.

Then, you may serve.

Mmm. Delicious.

And with tons of protein,
iron, and assorted vitamins

and minerals,
darn nutritious to boot.

And of course, both miso

and dashi
are chock‐full of umami.

Perhaps you've heard
of this newly discovered

mysterious "fifth taste," hmm?

Supposedly,
it all started in 1908,

when a scientist,
name of Kikunae Ikeda,

isolated an amino acid
from seaweed called glutamate.

Now the flavor of this substance
was elusive, yet unique,

and Ikeda named it umami,

which means "tasty" in Japanese.

Now, Ikeda quickly patented
his formula

for monosodium glutamate,

and it became
the big flavor success story

of the early 20th century.

Matter of fact,
by the mid '30s,

MSG was being dosed out
from salt shakers in Japan

right at the table,

even at the table
of the emperor.

Obviously MSG raked in some big
old buckets of yen,

which had to make guys
like Ikeda pretty happy.

It even made it into the U. S.
despite a little bump

in the road
called World War Two.

MSG was a major ingredient

in several famous
American spice blends,

and it really caught on
with food manufacturers

and Chinese restaurants.

Then, in the 1960s,

word started to spread
of a mysterious ailment.

All across the country,

fans of Chinese chow

began complaining
of heart palpitations,

numbness of the fingers,
headaches,

all eventually laid at the door

of poor, old
monosodium glutamate.

Despite the fact that,
consequent studies

never pinpointed the problem.

Of course, the MSG industry
wasn't giving up.

They dug back
through Ikeda's old research

and rediscovered
one particular word, umami.

What followed was years
of new tests

and research projects,

many of which were funded
by the MSG industry.

Not that there's anything
wrong with that.

What did they find?

Several papers published
in reputable scientific journals

over the last few years

suggests that what
they found is a new taste.

Now, keep in mind
that our chemical senses,

especially our sense of taste ‐‐
Tongue down ‐‐

evolved to lead us to foods
that we need to ingest

and keep us away from things
that we shouldn't, okay.

Now, we can taste sweetness.

Well, sweet is a marker
for calories.

We can taste salt.

Salt is a required nutrient.

Sour often signals the presence
of vitamins.

And bitter, well,
many poisons taste bitter.

So that one probably evolved
as a warning.

With all this in mind,

doesn't it make sense
that we would have a taste for

and appreciation of proteins
and amino acids like glutamates?

I mean, those are the building
blocks of life, right?

Well, of course it does.

Is it amazing that these
molecules would taste good?

Of course not.

Supposed umami‐rich foods,

like ripe tomatoes,
aged cheese, red wine,

meat, and mushrooms
are delicious, right?

So here's my question.

Why do we need another word
for it?

We do we need to ultimately
condense all that deliciousness,

or whatever you want to call it,
down into something

we can easily package,
sell, and sprinkle onto food?

Why don't we
just eat the delicious foods?

I don't know.
Maybe I've just been exposed

to too much marketing
in my time.

But as far
as I'm concerned, umami,

you're all smoke and mirrors.

♪

[ Slurps ] Mmm!

As much as I love making
and consuming my own miso soup,

you know how I feel
about unitaskers.

That's right.

Well, I feel the same
about unitasking ingredients.

So now that we've got the kombu,
katsuobushi,

miso, and tofu in the house,

why not try one of these tasty
and time‐saving techniques?

For instance,
finely chop the benito flakes

left over from one batch
of dashi, place

in an eight‐inch nonstick
skillet over medium heat,

and cook until
almost completely dry.

Then add 2 tablespoons
of mirin ‐‐

that's a sweetened
cooking vinegar ‐‐

2 tablespoons of soy sauce,

1/2 teaspoon
of plain old sugar,

and continue to cook
until it's almost dry.

Then, hit it with 2 tablespoons
of white sesame seeds,

toasted would be nice.

And then move it to a plate
or platter

until it is completely cool
and dry.

As for serving options,
over rice is nice.

Well, they like it at my house
at least.

Hey, here's another good one.

Place a 12 ounce block
of silken tofu

in a blender craft
with 1/2 cup of buttermilk,

1 tablespoon lemon juice,
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard,

1/4 cup of ketchup,
then 1 teaspoon of kosher salt,

and 1/2 teaspoon
of black pepper.

Spin that up and then add

2 tablespoons
of sweet pickle relish.

There you go.

As far as service options,
well you could use that

as a special sauce
on a hamburger.

And of course, the taller
the better, wouldn't you say?

Very, very good with pickles.

Or you can use it
in a traditional mode,

with just a bit of salad,
very nice indeed.

Say, if you've got a couple
tablespoons of white miso,

you could mix that up
with 2 tablespoons of honey.

I like using chopsticks
for this.

Then just brush it
onto four 6‐ounce pieces

of black cod or halibut.

Oof! Bake at 475
for 15 to 20 minutes,

depending on the thickness
of your filets.

Very umami, that's for sure.

All right let's dive
into some dashi.

1 cup of dashi, in fact,
in a glass or plastic container,

along with 1/4 cup each
mirin and soy sauce.

Seal that up,
give it a good shake,

and you will have made
tsuyu sauce,

which is great on pasta,
my favorite.

Open pantry!

Japanese buckwheat,
or soba noodles.

Sorry to spring a new one on you
at the last minute,

but most megamarts
do carry them these days.

Says right there, soba.

You can read it somewhere.
I don't know.

Close pantry.

Cook the noodles
per the package instructions,

and then toss with enough
of the tsuyu sauce

to thoroughly soak them.

And by the way,
you want to serve these

in the Japanese style, cold.

That's right.

Perhaps garnished with
some finely chopped green onions

or shredded seaweed.

[ Man grunts, speaks Japanese ]

I'm sorry
we didn't get back to the kombu.

But, as you can see,

once you open your pantry up
to a little Japanese influence,

things can get a little crazy.

Tasty, but crazy.

So, how you liking
the neighborhood?

[ Mumbles ]

[ Speaks indistinctly ]

Okay, well, see you next time
on "Good Eats."

Yoi ichinichi o.