Tag Archive for: Japanese

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Hokkaidō comes to Didsbury – meeting the creative couple behind Midori at Wine and Wallop

This Easter Weekend an extraordinary Japanese home cooking project found a permanent base. Its tangled global roots encompass the northern island of Hokkaidō, Hong Kong, Australia and Scotland. Affluent Manchester suburb Didsbury took Midori to its heart and arguably its finest bar, Wine and Wallop, is now the prime outlet for gyoza, glass noodles, daikon pickles and other quietly challenging dishes that subvert that tired culinary template of sushi rolls, commercial ramen and crude katsu curry.

A long lunchtime pre-launch road-testing convinced me that the food put out by Claire ‘Midori’ Cassidy and her partner Ruari Anderson lives up to the almost Studio Ghibli back story evoked on their website.

Claire trained as a journalist and it shows. Let me quote: “Unbeknownst at the time to founder and creator Midori (the name means green), her appreciation for soulful Japanese home cooking was born one autumn afternoon in the early ’90s, as she watched her late grandmother Reiko chop fresh vegetables picked that very morning from the ‘hatake’ (communal allotment) down the road. There, in Reiko’s humble kitchen, Midori’s mother, aunt and grandmother sat cross-legged on cushioned mats, skilfully wrapping gyozas whilst chatting, laughing and bickering…

Otaru in winter
Northernmost Japanese region

“During the long and harsh Hokkaidō winters, temperatures would typically plummet to -10°C, house-bounding the citizens of Otaru, a rural fishing village situated on the west coast of Japan’s northernmost island. In anticipation of these looming conditions, the ritual of preparing food in bulk – from pickling and fermenting vegetables to wrapping gyoza – would take place annually with the combined efforts of family members and neighbours.”  

Flash forward to Lapwing Lane on a decidedly unsettled Bank Holiday Weekend in 2024 Britain. The Midori menu at Wine and Wallop will be available here (not at W&W Prestwich or Knutsford) 12pm-9pm daily. Claire won’t obviously be at the stove all the time. She and Ruari have to supply their amazing gyozas to cherished local stockists and promote the brand online, too. With all the pressure I was pleased she found time to answer a questionnaire I put to them…

Tell me about yourselves. Your Japanese background, Claire? Your grandmother in Hokkaidō was a major influence, I believe? The Hong Kong connection? The Scottish connection? Where did you both first meet?

“I am Hong Kong born and (for the most part) bred Japanese/Scottish “halfie”, though I’ve attended schooling in various other cities like Vancouver, Edinburgh and Melbourne due to my Dad’s basings as a commercial pilot. Ruari and I met in Hong Kong in 2013 when I’d returned home from Oz (uni), and discovered we had lived mirrored lives – he too had attended the same secondary school in HK and had completed his sixth form at a boarding school in Scotland and university in Australia – all eight years apart (Claire is 34, Ruari 42). 

“My summer holidays were typically spent at my grandparents’ in Otaru (a port city not far from Sapporo) where the women in the family were big foodies – as you may know, Hokkaido is a hot spot for tourists from other prefectures and SE/East Asian countries for its fruit, seafood and artisan offerings. 

“Ruari was born in Stirling to Scottish parents and subsequently spent his childhood in Dubai and Bahrain until the Gulf War, then 25 years in HK. We believe our international upbringing and being ’third culture kids’ has been the reason behind our strong foundation and adventurous appetites. Also, my first job as a flight attendant opened my tastebuds to new flavours and intensified my obsession with food.”

Glorious platter of gyozas
Tangy glass noodles

How was the Midori brand born? How does it differ from the sushi/ramen offering that is everywhere in the city now? Explain the secrets of gyozo making. Why are yours so much better than the commercial frozen variety?

“The brand was born out of a lack of options in Manchester for home-style Japanese cooking; dishes I’d consider to be ‘comfort food’ and off the beaten track of westernised sushi rolls, ramen and katsu curry. We moved to the UK in 2016 and being homesick for quite some time, I really craved these familiar flavours. During lockdown, Ruari (day job care sector worker) and I ordered dumplings from a dim sum house in the city centre and with delivery fees, it was extortionate – and not very tasty! 

“Becoming disillusioned with the rat race and the absence of nearby East Asian grocers (other than in town) were the main triggers behind the decision to make my own and launch our product, using my grandmother’s recipes and wrapping techniques. Thankfully, this was well received in Didsbury and from there, we grew into serving at local festivals in the summer and pop-ups.

“There are obviously other frozen gyoza brands that are much cheaper and contain more per pack, and we have tried and tested them all, but they lack flavour and contain many preservatives. Aside from that, they have a 30:70 filling to wrapper ratio – mine are packed to the brim with only high quality, locally-sourced meat and allotment-grown veg where possible with strictly NO dodgy additives. 

“As I’ve learned through this journey, there are many tips to creating the perfect gyoza, from removing moisture from veg (like cabbage and mushroom) with high water content to intensify the flavour, using meat with a 15-20 per cent fat content to ensure maximum juiciness and keeping the filling and dough below room temperature. In regards to wrapping, each gyoza must be fully sealed with no air pockets to retain meat juices and uniform in weight to ensure even cooking. As it turns out, this skill has proven difficult to teach part-time in an economically efficient manner as it’s all down to speed and muscle memory!” 

Check out Midori’s gyoza cooking tips here.

Natto gohan
Pickled daikon

Is what you do essentially Japanese home cooking? Are authentic ingredients the key? How important are local suppliers such as your Didsbury butchers?

“It is paramount that we use authentic ingredients to capture that true, recognisable flavour of Japanese cooking and we have a great relationship with Axons (who as you know, supply our meat and stock our products). Since starting this venture in July 2022, we’ve been so impressed with the support we received from Didsbury’s ever-growing community of grassroots businesses – something that simply doesn’t exist in Hong Kong’s ‘dog eat dog’  corporate mentality. Up until fairly recently, it’s been a struggle to source certain ingredients like daikon radish and sashimi-grade fish locally – lucky for us, neighbourhood greengrocers like Fresh Save and Family Mart have started stocking Asian veg and fishmongers like Evans and Out of the Blue offer sushi ingredients.”

Explain the Wine and Wallop/Didsbury connection?

“We kind of found Didsbury by accident. We first moved from HK to Cuddington in deepest Cheshire and it was simply too rural for us there. Being five minutes down the road from ours, W&W was my go-to whenever I got cabin fever while WFH. How we came to collaborate with them was down to pure luck; I walked in one day for a coffee and Rachael (the previous manager) offered me a one-off pop up. It was a success so that led to monthly events, supper clubs and private sushi and gyoza making workshops. We’d even go as far to say it has become our second home.”

Adding to the W&W buzz
Kaiki Gesshoku and meatballs

My favourite Midori dishes (and matching cocktails)?

The gyoza are the stand-out. Pork, lamb, miso mushroom, fanned out on a sharing platter (£28 for 15 pieces), a wonderfully soft, creamy offering. That’s not to diss the tsukune, teriyaki-glazed chicken meatballs (four pieces for £7.50). Changing tack, more challenging were sunomono (£5), slithery, sharp cucumber and glass noodles in tangy umezushi plum vinaigrette and natto gohan (£6), which tops rice with whipped fermented soy and cured egg yolk shavings. I liked both dishes but maybe marmite for bar punters?

I relish a Japanese pickle and the tsukemono take on daikon radish (£7.50) is glorious, while similar perfect bar food is the renkon (£4) lotus root crisps and the absurdly moreish wafu fries (£5.50), which are topped with Worcester-like okonomi sauce, kewpie mayo and roasted seaweed and bonito flakes. Beer fodder for me, but don’t neglect barman Jack’s appropriate cocktails – the Bloody Mary equivalent, Blood Moon/Kaiki Gesshoku featuring gochujang, and the Martini based on bisongrass vodka and yuzu and topped with a shisho leaf, called River Tiger/Kawatora.

Wine and Wallop, 97 Lapwing Lane, West Didsbury, Manchester M60 6UR.

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The taste of fish to come – an intimate, shimmering preview of Musu’s madai, hamachi and akami

The oddest of avenues opened up after one of the best dinners I’ve eaten in recent times. I just can’t resist researching a bit of arcane back story. So picture a victorious Sumo wrestler, at the end of his bout, typically brandishing a red sea bream – potent symbol of good fortune and abundance for Japanese folk. Endorsed by the ‘Fish God’, consumption of this prestigious ‘celebration’ fish with the coppery red sheen is reputed to ward off evil spirits, too. 

Pagrus major is the Latin name for the species; more prosaically the Japanese call their ‘King of the Hundred Fishes’ Madai. A nigiri of which (above) I have just gulped whole, as is the custom at a certain stage of a Kaiseki banquet. Bookended by mackerel and chu toro (tuna back and belly morsels), it is part of a trio of mouthfuls that showcase immaculate sourcing. Attention to detail is everywhere from the flecks of proper wasabi root, the 10-year aged soy with mirin and sake, top of the range hamachi and akami to match the madai quality.

No, I’m not in one of those exclusive downtown Kyoto supper clubs but in Lydgate, hilltop outpost of Oldham. The setting is the home of Vincent Braine co-founder of Musu, an extraordinary restaurant project arriving imminently in Manchester. His chef patron Mike  Shaw has brought along his meticulously assembled brigade to cook a preview of the menu promised for the £2.5m transformation of the former Randall & Aubin site on Bridge Street. 

No pressure then? Not if the actual 55 cover restaurant can regularly serve a meal as amazing as the one proffered to us, the elite few. Me neither on why I was invited. Just thankful. Maybe it was down to the effusive welcome I gave to the project. Much of it down to my awe at the cultural leap made by Shaw, a chef steeped in Francophile and Modern British cooking. Think a CV that includes Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons via Hambleton Hall and Aubergine, then at Michelin-starred Neat in Cannes. 

Now he is charged with curating high end Japanese cuisine, albeit filtered through his own kitchen sensibility. Japanese with a contemporary twist, he’s calling the style. It oddly mirrors his namesake Simon Shaw’s adoption/adaptation of Catalan cooking at El Gato Negro. Fittingly the name Musu translates as ‘infinite possibilities’. 

In all this it helps that Mike’s head sushi chef sidekick is Brazilian Andre Aguiar, trained by ‘renowned Japanese Sushi Master’ Yugo Kato. The first six months of his apprenticeship at Kato’s Dublin restaurant were consumed entirely by learning to properly cook rice – the priority in sushi. Cooked rice is referred to as gohan in Japanese. In a broader sense the word denotes ‘food’ or ‘meal’.

Andre will helm the intimate six-cover ‘Omakase’ counter in Musu, one of three menu options; the other are the flexible a la carte ‘Sentaku’ and ‘Kaiseki’, a seven or 11 course tasting menu. We get the latter at Lydgate.

It kicks off with chawanmushi, that savoury eggy custard seemingly ubiquitous at high end UK restaurants these days. This one, intense with garlic and parsley, is as good as it gets with a bijou morel mushroom tart sharing the Instagrammable ‘nest’. After which there isn’t a dud note. Exquisite sashimi to match the sushi; treatments of scallops, black cod and wagyu beef each transcending the Nobu wannabe clichés. Throughout assiduous application of caviar (kaluga and oscietra) feels like the hand of Shaw. Ditto the remarkable final pudding – a fusion masterpiece of iced white chocolate, fennel seed crumble and yuzu sorbet.

So a rewarding culinary experience, but is it true Kaiseki? And does it matter? On my trips to Japan I was never lucky enough to bag a seat at one of those elaborate almost meditative showcases for kyo-rori (traditional Kyoto cuisine), served in ancient wooden villas. Reservation for non-natives are as rare as hen’s teeth (not a dish by the way). This dining ritual has been honed for centuries, yet my it’s-becoming-a-habit research discovers the term Kaiseki wasn’t attached until the mid 19th century. It means ‘bosom’ or ‘stone’ and  refers to the practice of monks holding warm stones to their chests to stave off hunger during winter.

I guarantee no server at Musu, due to open on Friday, November 18, will offer you a warm stone on arrival. Warm welcome definitely plus food that should radically upgrade the perception of Japanese food in the city (ramen an honourable exception). Despite a cavalcade of sushi rivals recently it has remained devalued culinary currency. Manc cannot live by California rolls alone.

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Omakase, Sentaku, Kaiseki – why Mike’s Musu looks the real Japanese deal

Chawanmushi is a passion of Mike Shaw’s. Sounds like a Japanese martial art? No, it’s a savoury custard, prepared with dashi and finished with an umami-rich topping. It was the amuse bouche during our epic 30 course tasting menu at Ynyshir. It will form an equally indispensable part of a more manageable tasting menu at MUSU.

This might be the most striking new addition to the Manchester restaurant scene since Mana.

Classically trained chef-patron (from Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons via Hambleton Hall and Aubergine to Richard Neat’s eponymous Michelin one star in Cannes) Shaw has made a daring leap into an alien gastronomic culture to create this showcase for ‘contemporary Japanese cuisine’. It is due to open on October 6 in the former Randall & Aubin site on Bridge Street. 

An estimated £2.6 million has been lavished on the refurb, while Saddleworth-raised Shaw has spent the last 18 months immersing himself in Japanese food in all its arcane glory. Among the ports of call on his learning curve was Araki, the tiny Mayfair sushi restaurant controversially stripped of all three of its Michelin stars in 2020 when the chef/patron retrenched to Japan.

Ah, sushi the rice-driven standard bearer of Japanese cuisine. Purist Umezushi aside, it has been a debased culinary currency in the city. Witness the recent arrival around the corner from MUSU of a ‘Japanese/Brazilian’ all-you-can eat  steak and sushi joint. 400 covers, but possibly the focus more on partying than edible authenticity.

In contrast, the 55-cover MUSU aims to live up to its name, which translates as ‘infinite possibilities’. That extends to its elevation of rice to centre stage; among the team is a specialist who trained for years in preparing the perfect grain. As Shaw says: “Despite the presence of the finest fish rice is the most important element in sushi. We will concentrate on nigiri, no rolls.”

Advance images of dishes are as ravishing as the CGI shots of the interior. Diners will be given three menu options – an a la carte ‘Sentaku’ menu, which allows guests to choose their dishes from each section of the menu to suit their own personal taste preferences, ‘Kaiseki’, a set menu curated by Michael that comprises seven and 11 course options, which together provide the guest with a balanced choice through the seasonal menu.

Watch out, too, for the puddings. Shaw is a trained pastry chef and has been exending his creative tendencies around the likes of a take on pineapple tarte tatin with ancho pepper but without the pastry. Raspberry dashi, lemon verbena, shizo sorbet are all on the horizon. And just look at those yuzu meringues.

Finally there’s an ‘Omakase’ menu, which will be served at six-seater omakase counter ruled over by head sushi chef Andre Aguilar. He trained under Japanese sushi master Yugo Kato, a specialist in this theatrical experience, entrusting choices to the chef in front of you. I regard it as a form of culinary therapy!

Sourcing for all this will be divided between Japan (A4 grade Wagyu beef, kombu, high grade traditional soy sauce) and the UK (Skye langoustines, salt-aged free range duck from Devon, Wiltshire truffles). There will be N25 beluga and an array of top of the range seafood – bluefin, hamachi, carbonero prawns – some sourced from Out of the Blue in Chorlton, some imported via the legendary True World Foods in London. Special ultra-cold -60C fridges have been installed to ensure the certified and sustainable bluefin remains in perfect condition.

Remarkably the same attention to detail has gone into the surroundings. Every vestige of the ill-fated Randall & Aubin has been stripped away. Replaced by the clean lines and precision associated with Japanese design, but also featuring bespoke Italian furniture and video walls providing an ambient backdrop that strays way beyond a dalliance with Mount Fuji.

Beverage Director Sean McGuirk, is behind an equally creative drinks menu; in-house sommelier, Ivan Milchev has arrived from Manchester’s 20 Stories with a glowing reputation; the wines come from Miles Cornish. Sakewill be as good as it gets. The bar itself is made from Dekton stone, brass and onyx; its fascia is layered in brass, detailed into a banana leaf pattern and softly back lit. It dovetails with the central open kitchen with its large pass. 

Booth tables can transform into cocktail tables, emphasising the fluidity of the whole space. For smaller parties, MUSU’s private dining room accommodates up to 14 guests and can be completely separate or adjoined from the main dining room. Separated by a glazed telescopic wall, the latter can be frosted at the touch of a button to deliver total privacy.

If it all sounds quite a game changer, well it it is. My remit in this website is not to provide news of restaurant/bar openings. In this case I’m making an exception. I’m really that excited.

MUSU, 64 Bridge Street, Manchester, M3 3BN.

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Inside Ynyshir – cutting edge of darkness, sheer heaven on a plate

Serendipity? You bet. What are the chances of booking a dining destination to celebrate a ‘big’ birthday and in the intervening months it wins its second Michelin star and three days before your stay gets elevated to the UK’s number one restaurant?

Ynyshir was already a hot ticket for the foodie who likes to be challenged; now chef Gareth Ward and his design-savvy partner Amelia Eiriksson are having to fend off a press pack desperate to find out what all the fuss is about on this distant edge of Wales.

We already had a fair inkling. We holed up there exactly six years ago and adored the embryo project the pair had embarked on after taking full ownership. Since when we’ve traced from afar the radical transformation of this once whitewashed hunting lodge outside Machynlleth, once owned by Queen Victoria. A doom-laden redecoration, a ram’s skull motif and brown sheepskin throws off a Game of Thrones set, a soundtrack rumoured to make Nine Inch Nails sound like loungecore and a 32-course Japanese-influenced tasting menu that has ‘imminent overdraft’ written all over it. Bring it on.

Some time after we had polished off 15 fish courses – riffs on lobster, shrimp, scallop, crab, hamachi, blue fin, black cod and madai via a sensual overload of nahm jim, wasabi, yuzu, miso, sesame– Ynyshir really kicked off. A volcanic fire pit was ignited outside the window while a mirror ball pierced every corner of the penumbral dining room and I could have sworn the DJ ratcheted up the decibels.

Luckily we had been assigned one of two tables by the window and Captain Smidge, our gourmet chihuahua, had snuggled down on a rug oblivious to the hubbub, even missing the Wagyu beef three ways which he would have wolfed. Most of the dishes would have been far too spicy for him and anyway most were one-bite size. Hard to pick a favourite. The Welsh lamb spare ribs were sensational, ditto the blue fin tuna, the scallop with duck liver or the miso cured black cod with aged kaluga.

Impeccably behaved Smidge had been given special dispensation to sleep in the main house and to join us and 22 other souls on Yynyshir’s epic culinary voyage. The large couple from Essex, who had booked the chef’s table, looked quite blown away by the perfect storm of the adjacent kitchen brigade, with Gareth Ward as Captain Ahab on the bridge, silhouetted against the flaming grill.

A quiet date place this ain’t, yet our dinner experience had started in calm fashion on our arrival at 3pm. Like the other guests, we were invited to ‘check in’ for the meal before being shown to our rooms. Overnight stays are part of the package. 

In turn you are taken out from your lounge drink to be introduced to a large box of raw produce that is the inspiration for the dishes ahead. Beware getting nipped by the live crab. Your MC then composes a taster bowl of ‘Not French Onion’. It was a signature statement in 2016 – Japanese dashi stock flavoured with onion oil, diced tofu, pickled shallots, sea vegetables, onion and miso purée and brown butter croûtons. I conjecture this chawanmushi (savoury custard) has been refined but it remains utterly delicious. 

Next up is a session with Ynyshir sommelier Rory Eaton to discuss your wine (or sake) requirements for the evening. The list has stratospheric bottles but also a few you’d class as accessible. We went middle ground by the glass – Alsace Pinot Gris, South African Chenin Blanc, Chablis, South African Pinot Noir and a Barolo. Rory, a class act, remained attentive to our vinous needs throughout the evening. 

A similar professionalism pervades the operation. Three days before, on the Monday Gareth and Amelia had to be leant on to make the trek to London, where they triumphed at the Estrella Damm National Restaurant Awards. No over the top celebrations, mind. Tuesday, 200 miles away, was to be business as usual. Even a scalded foot wasn’t keeping Gareth from the pass. Having risen through the ranks at Hambleton Hall and Sat Bains, the towering County Durham lad is nothing if not driven. Do not expect him to cater for your dietary requirements. You are there to eat HIS food.

In a corridor near our ground floor room hung a chef’s jacket proclaiming Yynyshir’s two Michelin star status. That achievement arrived through a deliberate policy to shake up expectations of country house dining. On our first visit it was a benign luxury country retreat. Not chintzy old school, but certainly decorous, quite at odds with the Japanese techniques/lamb fat base of dishes coming out of the kitchen. Hand in hand with a ramping up of the Orient influences and an obsessive investment in the finest raw materials (local, yes, but if the best has to be imported, so be it) came that radical reworking of the look of the place, inside and out. 

Moody dark blue and grey makes a statement. As does the two teepees viewed across rewilded grounds, thronged with chest-high ox-eye daisies on our visit. They were our vista as we opted to sample the first five courses outside by the (unlit) fire pit, revelling in the kind of heat wave rarely encountered around the Dyfi estuary. 

Fortunately, our ground floor bedroom – yes, moody dark blue decor – was cool in every sense. Not that we had much time to spend in the space that was formerly the lounge/bar area (before and after above). Ynyshir is a high octane experience.

By the time we reached the seven puddings, including a playful Alphonso take on a Bakewell, we were flagging, yet rallied around an old acquaintance from first time around. Gareth’s deconstructed ‘tiramisu’ is a great splatter of coffee cake puree, vanilla mayo, chilli crémant gel, coffee, mascarpone granita and a grating of intense 100 per cent chocolate.

The finale? Well, no. Further Valrhona in an ‘after dessert’ in the bar. Single origin Madagascar Manjari daringly paired with shitake mushroom and kaffir lime… a final stroke of genius from a remarkable, unique restaurant experience.

Ynyshir Restaurant and Rooms, Eglwysfach, Machynlleth, Powys SY20 8TA. 01654 781209. Lunch or dinner £350. Prices start at £495 per person for a house room plus dinner (drinks extra). The grounds are also home to a ‘pub with casual dining’ marquee, Legless Fach. Check out my original Ynyshir review and discover the nearby shrine to austere priest poet RS Thomas, the amazing RSPB reserve over the hill and the charms of eco-friendly Machynlleth.

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Japanese omelette Tamogayaki another fraternal gift that will keep on giving

Is my ‘Weeaboo’ (look it up) brother working his way through the letter T in the Japanese foodie lexicon? First up for my Christmas present he provided me with the kit to create Takoyaki; now for my birthday a Tamagoyaki pan set arrived. 

I mastered the former delicacy, fried octopus in crispy dashi batter doughnuts; more practice may be needed for the latter,  a rolled omelette geared towards breakfast or the bento box (lunch box). Perhaps on the pan’s debut the four month-old kimchi filling was a soggy step too far. I care not that Korea intruded; the Japanese are not always purist at the snackier end of their cuisine. Still maybe a toasted wafer of nori might have been a better bet. Dashi soup stock is also popular with grated daikon radish perhaps.

With the rectangular pan, pink as sakura cherry blossom, came, equally roseate, a brush for oiling and a paddle for omelette flipping. Oh and a black oblong plate on which to slice and display my Tamagoyaki. My brother kept the tee-shirt.

Ingredients were lined up. Four very fresh eggs to be beaten with the inclusion of one tablespoon of soy sauce, the same amount of mirin (I fought shy of recommended sugar) and a pinch of salt. A splash of cooking oil brushed onto the 8in x 4in pan (called a Makiyakinabe), on a medium heat and we are ready to start. Entry level stuff. It could all be more delicate but it’s early days..

Add a third of your egg mix into the heated pan. Once the egg has cooked slightly so that the top is still slightly uncooked, spread on a third of the kimchi, push it over to the side of your pan, turning over. Add oil. Then add another third of the egg mix, allow to cook slightly and add another third of the kimchi. Turn over again. Add oil. Repeat all this for a final time, rolling up to create layers. Lift gently on to black plate, let it cool and then slice horizontally.

Had it turned out the neat cylinder so suited to sushi selection (see main image)? Not really, but I’ll be working on it. Here’s how the experts do it: https://youtu.be/2VJBABOA22Q

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How I took on Takoyaki without the tentacles and had a ball

So what did Santa bring you? I bet it wasn’t an Osaka-style octopus ball kit. With all the responsibility such a gift bestows. Especially, post-Christmas in the Pennines, when fresh cephalods are thin on the ground and my store cupboard kombu looks as frazzled as me.

Still can’t complain. This portal into the gooey street food world of Takoyaki is the latest in a series of surprise prezzies from my brother, always keen to encourage my Japanese culinary skills. 

Takoyaki, literally translates as ‘octopus fried’, but they’re more than that – golf ball sized piping hot, crispy doughnuts, a dashi batter encasing a squidgy filling of octopus tentacle, benishoga (pickled ginger), spring onion, a soupcon of soy maybe. This iconic dish originated in the late night stalls of party city Osaka, but you’ll find it all over Japan. The batter is poured into griddle moulds, the filling follows, each sphere being flipped with skewers until sealed. Street theatre as much as street food. 

How could I match that? Well, New Year, new challenge, so I gathered the necessary raw materials, substituting prawns for octopus. Both have recently been acknowledged as ‘sentient beings’, so I may have to recalibrate either ingredient in future.

As part of my kit, my sibling had provided addictively creamy Kewpie mayo and his own gloopy blend of Takoyaki sauce, featuring Worcestershire sauce, mirin, sake, ginger, garlic and sugar, both to be squirted over the piping hot crispy batter balls.

To get there I used my dinky black cast iron pan with 16 semi-spherical moulds. There are electrical versions, but mine was the traditional model that sits on the stove top. My one fear was it would not reach the necessary sizzling point on the Aga ring. It did take longer than expected, but it worked out deliciously well.

Firstly, I had to assemble the batter, which entailed making my own simple dashi stock by steeping kombu (kelp seaweed) and katsuobushi (bonito flakes) in water for several hours. This is not a quick fix, though, in a rush, you could substitute dashi powder in the batter mix – which is 200ml dashi, 100g flour and one beaten egg, thoroughly mixed but on the thin side. Oil the moulds well to encourage a savoury browning and when they are served take care: the filling inside the tiny spheres can be molten hot. All the more umami, though, when you sprinkle on some bonus bonito flakes.

Nothing, of course, is likely to beat the experience of snaffling your takoyakis in Osaka’s neon-lit Dotonburi district after a few Asahis, but to recreate the dish itself at home you can buy a pan from Amazon or improvise with an Ebelskiver Danish pancake pan. You can also purchase online a squeeze bottle of ready-made takoyaki sauce, complete with a cute octopus label.

I’ll use octopus next time but I concur with seasoned Japanese culinary explorer Michael Booth it doesn’t have to be the de rigueur filling. Prawn or squid are obvious replacements. In Booth’s The Meaning of Rice and other tales from the belly of Japan (Jonathan Cape, £14.99) he sacrilegiously suggests pork belly slowly simmered in sake or mirin, lighty pickled mackerel or even a chocolate version. The world is your Takoyaki.

How an English family’s foodie travelogue became a Japanese animation hit…

Michael Booth’s first travel book, 2007’s  bestselling Sushi and Beyond (Vintage £8.99) was sparked by picking up a book on Japanese food, falling in love with with it and on the spur of the moment whisking his wife and two sons off on a trip to that country. In 2015 it inspired an animation series over there. Hardly Simpsons with Sushi, it is a quirky primer for a fascinating food culture. Here’s a taster.

In Episode 18, The World’s Fastest Fast Food: Michael and his family go to Osaka, which with its gaudy neon lights and people always on the go, presents an energetic vibe altogether different from Kyoto. While Lissen is left to buy some souvenirs, Michael and his two boys go in search of places serving the local specialties: Okonomi-yaki (savory pancakes) and Tako-yaki (octopus balls). They can’t decide which of them to eat. A strange old lady appears and more or less drags them to her establishment, which offers both dishes. What happens next? Spoiler alert above.

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