One of my favorite restaurants is Kajitsu, as I’ve written a couple of awesome reviews about the place. Chef Nishihara is simply a genius. His creativity and flavoring, using only vegetables (it’s a vegan/shojin restaurant), is just amazing.

I saw an article in last week’s Times Magazine, where Mark Bittman cooked with Chef Nishihara. I was blown away. He made vegan Worcestershire sauce. I’ve made sauces before, from molé to demi-glace to simple dashi. But who knew Worcestershire sauce could be home made??!!

I had to do it. But the original recipe is too much, so I cut corners here and there.

Here is my adaptation.

Soak a piece of kombu (about 6 inch) and 3 large (6 small) dried shiitake mushroom in a cup of water overnight.

They are reconstituted the next morning.

Cut 1 large onion, 4 carrots, 1 stalk of celery, and piece of ginger into small pieces.

Prepare spices:

1 teaspoon cinnamon
6 bay leaves
½ teaspoon black peppercorns
½ teaspoon sansho peppercorns, Sichuan peppercorns or green peppercorns
1 tablespoon ground, dried sage
1 tablespoon soybean powder (optional)
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon dried thyme
½ small dried hot red chili

Original recipe says to use fresh tomato, but I bought canned tomato, since the quality of tomato in this season isn’t that great anyways. Puree 3 lbs tomato.

Strain the tomatoes into a large pot.

You don’t want seeds to be in the sauce.

Make dashi. Here I cut corners. Put re-hydrated kombu into 8 cups of water, and simmer for 1 hour (instead of 2).

Add 2 cups of vegetable trimmings. Simmer for one more hour (again, instead of two). The more variety of vegetables, the better.

After two hours of simmering kombu and vegetable together, the stock is now done.

Strain:

8 cups of water is boiled down to barely 3 cups.

For tomato base, add vegetables, and thinly sliced re-hydrated mushroom, and simmer for about an hour.

Add all the spices and simmer for 10 minutes. As soon as you dump all the spices in the sauce, you will smell Worcestershire sauce. This is amazing.

Blend this mixture, then put everything back into the pot.

From here on, the process was a bit hectic, and I don’t have all the pics.

Pour 1 cup of red wine into the kombu/vegetable dashi. Boil for about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, cook down pureed tomato base for another 10 minutes.

Pour 1/3 of tomato base into dashi/red wine through strainer. Cook another 10 minutes. And here you have homemade Worcestershire sauce. Color is a lot lighter than store bought kind. The flavor is a lot softer, but you definitely taste Worcestershire sauce.

This recipe made two kinds of sauce, one thin (above), and the other thick (below). In the remaining tomato base, add 1 grated apple, and cook for another 10 minutes. You now have a thick sauce. The recipe didn’t call for it, but I blended it to make it extra smooth. Adding an apple changed the flavor drastically, and it’s awesome.

It was a great experience, especially knowing that you don’t question the ingredients of the sauce. But I don’t think I will make this again, looking at all the mess I created…

I made oven-baked tonkatsu, and this sauce is not your typical Worcestershire sauce, but quite addictive. I also made panko-crusted mahi-mahi last night, and used the sauce (one bite with thin sauce, the other bite thick sauce), and it was very good.

Chef Nishihara is a genius. I haven’t tasted chef’s sauce, but a big difference he told me would be that he saves all the vegetable trimmings (carrots, cabbage, onion, turnips, leeks) and make a large batch of dashi, with kombu. I think the depth of his dashi is far more intense than what we can make at home though.

Good experience nonetheless.

I usually make a vat of potato salad before I leave for a trip, leaving my husband poor and defenseless against the elements of bachelorhood. But this time I didn’t have time before the trip and figured he’d be able to fend for himself…

It turns out that while I was gone for three weeks in Japan last month, my husband lived off of canned food and bottled condiments. Seeing the contents of the pantry diminished and a “family size” umeboshi container gone upon my return, I replayed the numerous meals that took place without me in our kitchen. I was hit with flashes of instant ramen and lonely bowls of rice with MSG-laden Japanese bottled condiments.

One of the items that seemed to get a lot of love during my time away was the nametake jar.

Nametake is a condiment for rice consisting of enoki mushrooms.

Enoki mushrooms

Its sweet, slimy quality is a hit amongst the Pikachu crowd (i.e. children).

Ironically, across the Pacific Ocean, I was admiring another nametake jar in Nagano, Japan.

Two weeks ago, I was talking to a friend of mine about how my husband was subsisting off of nametake jars and canned tuna fish, and she told me about how she makes her own nametake. She described the easy process. It was no surprise that making enoki involved the same old Japanese ingredients: soy sauce, mirin, sake, sugar and vinegar. I followed the easy-to-follow recipe on her blog, Imakoko Life, and in 20 minutes I had a bottle full of glistening homemade nametake.

Nametake

INGREDIENTS
Make about 1.5 cups
2 packs of enoki
3 tbsp soy sauce
3 tbsp mirin
2 tbsp sake
2 tbsp vinegar
1 tbsp sugar

METHOD

1. Cut enoki stems off. Discard stems. Cut enoki into thirds.

2. Bring a pot of water to a boil. Boil the enoki for 2 minutes. Strain the enoki.

3. Put the pot back onto the stove top and combine soy sauce, mirin, sake, vinegar and sugar into the pot. Bring these ingredients to a gentle rolling boil.

4. Add the enoki back into the pot and keep on medium or low heat until the liquid reduces to 1/2 its original volume.

5. Jar it!

In a taste comparison test, the store bought enoki was much saltier than mine. It probably used more soy sauce (by the looks of it too). The store bought one also looked a little bit shiner.

Store bought enoki

The umami quotient for the homemade nametake blew the store bought one away. It also had a nice springy texture that the store bought kind doesn’t.

Homemade enoki

The downside to the homemade one is that it will only last for about 10 days versus a few months for the store bought kind (thank you, preservatives). I guess that means the next time I leave my husband in bachelor-land, it’ll have to be for 10 days or less, with a freezer full of pre-steamed rice to microwave.

This post is rather late, for which I apologize. Er, about a month late. SORRY! Where has all the time gone? How is it already mid-September? I look outside and the leaves are turning color. The light gives off a deeper glow. It is dark at 7:30pm.

Sigh. San Francisco’s (non-existent) summer is officially over.

So… let me continue today with my Umeboshi Project with Sylvan of Peko Peko Catering, which we started back in July. You saw that we foraged the plums ourselves in Berkeley, made plum liqueur, and started the pickling process for umeboshi.

About a month after salting the plums, we went onto the ever-important step for making umeboshi: adding the aka-shiso (a Japanese variety of perilla leaves that are red/purple on one side, green on the other. Not to be confused with the Korean variety, which is a deep purple on both sides).

Sylvan searched high and low for the aka-shiso. And not just a few stems–typically, you want about 10% of your weight in ume, in shiso. So this was no small amount of shiso, considering we had about five pounds of plums that we were pickling.

Then, Maya Shiroyama, of Kitazawa Seed Company, came to our rescue. Turns out that her parents have shiso growing out the ying yang in their yard. HOORAY!

Four of us gathered in the Peko Peko clubhouse on a Monday morning to get to work. We carefully washed all the shiso that Maya so kindly brought over. And washed. Then re-washed. Ad infinitum.

Look at how much shiso we had? Tubfuls!

Liberally sprinkle salt over the shiso.

Now, massage the shiso gently, to take out as much liquid as possible. GO!

Yoko’s tub of shiso yielded this little ball.

After all the shiso massaging, this is all that was left.

The tubs of purple liquid is like gold–it is ume-zu, aka ume vinegar.

Alright, now back to the plums, which have pickled into a lovely golden color:

Add the aka-shiso.

The shiso is the main component for turning umeboshi into its signature deep purple hue.

Mix around so the shiso is evenly distributed.

Remember our umeshu (aka plum liqueur)?

Plum shriveled to oblivion.

Sylvan wanted a sweeter umeboshi, so we took out some of the pickling fluid, and replaced with the umeshu. Smart!

Cover:

And now, wait another month.

Stay tuned for the final step: Drying!

I’ve become addicted to miso.

You know, that Japanese brown and weird looking paste consisting of fermented rice, soybeans, salt and the fungus kōjikin. Or at least that is the most traditional recipe, but miso can be found across Asia in many different forms and flavours.

Outside Japan miso is mostly known as the main ingredient for the namesake soup–the healthy, steamy, warm and salty sweet soup you often get as a starter in nicer sushi places outside Japan, or as a side dish in a running sushi place (kaiten sushi) in Japan.

Many Japanese believe miso also has a curing effect from radiation sickness, which was discovered or at least believed by doctors in Nagasaki and Hiroshima after the bombings that ended World War II. I’m not so sure about the truth in this, but since miso is an essential part of the daily Japanese diet anyway, I guess it won’t hurt in these dark times of Japan anno 2011.

You can find miso in most Asian supermarkets. No luck in Danish supermarkets though, but I’m sure it’s all over the ones in the US. I mean, they have whole AISLES of ice cream so they must have a shelf with a least one bag of miso paste.

The thing I love about miso is its many ways you can use it and the many flavours you obtain through different recipes and treatments. I mix it into my morning miso soup of course and I also stir fry vegetables and pour over miso mixed with sake and mirin to obtain a highly special and unique flavour, both sweet sugary and salty.

When I have guests over I throw together a simple and tasty miso dip. It’s great with sliced vegetables and perfect to snack on while you’re sipping (cham)pussy and chatting with other guests before a dinner party. Fellow UM writer Washi would probably recommend beer with miso dip, I’m sure. Come to think of it, I’m actually pretty sure he’d recommend beer with anything, even cereal or strawberry shortcake.

Anyway, here’s what you need:

INGREDIENTS
Miso (I prefer red miso, as it has more umph and flavour)
Roasted sesame seeds
Tahini
Wasabi (forgot to include in picture)
A piece of fresh ginger (forgot to include in picture)
A squirt of sake & mirin (you can also use water if you’re short of those)

METHOD

1. Get your miso out.

Press out a good helping in a bowl.

2. Grate the ginger well and mix it into the miso.

You need lots of ginger as it gives a great kick in flavour and a bite which takes the dip into greatness.

3. Put one teaspoon of tahini into the bowl as well.

4. Ground some roasted sesame seeds and pour in. Uhm, I love the smell of ground sesame!

5. Wasabi! Gives it a bit of a kick. Just add like half a teaspoon or to your taste.

6. Add a little bit of sake to avoid having a too dry miso dip.

And sake too.

7. Mix it up real good!

And there you are: an interesting and intense dip for your next din-din galore.

For dipping, I chopped some carrots roughly into easy handy pieces that fit well between your fingers. You don’t want to drop your shit onto the hostess’ antique Persian rugs or you will be dining on McDonald’s that night.

Sugar peas are cute too. Kids, don’t forget to shock boil your sugar peas. People water them with their bodily fluids in the home country.

And your party will already be on a roll.

The great thing about serving miso dip is that a lot of people have never tried the pure flavour of miso before–so they find it interesting and fun to snack on.

And there we have it, a super easy and quick dip tray ready for guests. Serve in hand-thrown ceramic bowls if you’re in the know. Fine porcelain dinnerware is a definite no-no–the Style Police will come knocking on your door, take you to Bad Taste Prison where you will accidently drop the soap and feel the full effect of not respecting the International Laws of Style.

That’s how bad it is to serve Japanese food in plain tableware.

Fellow UM writers of Japanese heritage: do you have any side comments or improvements for this recipe to make it even better?

When I was five, my family moved from the heart of the Silicon Valley (Cupertino) to the heart of Tokyo (Aoyama). Although it probably would have been a dream for trendy tots and tweens like Suri or Tavi, I was a tomboy who liked my suburban swing set in Cupertino and despised the high-rise buildings that suddenly surrounded me. And to make it worse, my older sister and I were thrown into a private, Catholic school.

I don’t remember much from those three years I spent in Aoyama. But one of the few things that I remember is that my sister had a classmate who was addicted to Kewpie mayonnaise.

The stories I would hear from my sister about her classmate are still vivid today. Everyday this fourth-grader would open her packed lunch and her mom would dutifully pack portable packets of Kewpie mayonnaise in her bento bag. The girl would squirt packets of mayonnaise into her mouth like a kid today would his Go-Gurt. Kewpie was her Ritalin.

I moved to Tokyo again 20 years after my time there in the mid-eighties and found myself back in the land of mayonnaise maniacs. Apparently, the epidemic had spread well beyond that lone fourth-grader. The answer to everything was Kewpie mayonnaise:

Bland okonomiyaki? Mayo.

Unappetizing canned tuna? Mayo.

Raw cabbage too raw? Mayo.

Something’s just not right with my pizza? Mayo.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Kewpie mayo with my veggie sticks and takoyaki, but I draw the line at pizza. For the occasions that I do indulge in some Kewpie, I was curious to make my own – sans MSG and all the other stuff that’s best left a mystery on the ingredients list.

After scouring various Japanese recipes for mayonnaise, it became apparent that the ingredients for homemade Japanese mayonnaise are very straight forward.

INGREDIENTS

1 egg yolk at room temperature
pinch of salt
1/2 tbsp vinegar
180cc or 3/4 cup salad oil

METHOD

1. In a glass mixing bowl combine egg yolk, salt and vinegar. Whisk very well.

2. Once the egg mixture is mixed up well, add the oil little by little.

I emphasize little by little so that the oil incorporates very well with the egg mixture.

3. The mixture should be thick.

4. Place in refrigerator for at least an hour before enjoying.

Look, I even found a perfect jar!

VERDICT

In a taste test alongside Kewpie (squeezed out on the left) there are noticeable differences.

My homemade mayo is less creamy and more tangy than Kewpie. I might try to increase the egg yolk ratio to vinegar next time. I may also try adding finely grated garlic next time to pump up the umami factor. The texture is also less firm than Kewpie. And because there is no MSG in the homemade version, it leaves a cleaner aftertaste than Kewpie. I can see a lot of potential for my next batch.

I am impressed with this homemade version. Even if the taste and experience is a little different from Kewpie, I really love the fact that I have homemade Japanese mayo stocked in my fridge.

If only I could reconnect with that now grown up fourth-grader and ask her what she thinks of my version of Japanese mayo. Squirt.

I was always baffled by tamari. I had never used it until one of my friends and faithful readers of UM suggested that I should write about tamari vs. shoyu (soy sauce) on Japanify.

So this week, I purchased San-J brand’s Tamari (I chose that brand because I happened to have San-J brand’s Organic Shoyu stocked in my pantry right now).

Tamari comes from the word “tamaru” in Japanese which means “collect, gather or accumulate.” Tamari was originally a liquid byproduct of the miso-making process (which involves fermenting soybeans, which apparently the Japanese do in many many ways). Essentially, fermenting miso “sweats off” tamari.

Tamari (left), Shoyu (right)

While shoyu is made out of roughly 50% soybeans and 50% wheat, tamari is made with little or no wheat – so it’s a good shoyu substitute for people who are allergic to wheat. The result for tamari is a much thicker and milder sauce than soy sauce. But remember, both types are produced from the fermentation process.

While the unapologetically and piercingly salty shoyu is the best choice for sushi and sashimi, tamari is ideal for sauces and dressings for more depth and umami. I have yet to try making tsuyu with tamari, but I can predict that it will be a better choice than shoyu.

A taste comparison I did was for a salad that I am lately pretty into making. Canned tuna, garbanzo beans dressed in Japanese mayo, shoyu/tamari, EVOO and black pepper. The dressing was good with shoyu, but rounder and more agreeable with tamari. After making the same salad while substituting shoyu for tamari, I finally understood why tamari might work better in certain situations.

This was my salad:

3 handfuls of mizuna
5 okra sliced (optional)
1/2 cup of garbanzo beans
1 canned tuna/salmon

Dressing
1 tbsp tamari
1 tbsp EVOO
2 tbsp Japanese mayo
salt and pepper to taste

Mix canned fish and garbanzo beans into a mixing bowl.

Add dressing ingredients into the bowl and mix well.

Slice okra and wash mizuna. Place mizuna and okra in a big salad bowl. Then add the fish mixture to the salad bowl and toss. The fish mixture may clump together so don’t be shy to use your hands to toss the salad and coat the mizuna leaves well.

The tamari was perfect in the salad, which didn’t overpower the delicate mizuna leaves. It was also a perfect accent to the raw okra which can taste a little… well – raw.

In Umamimart’s three year history, I can’t believe we’ve never devoted a post to Japanese mayonnaise. We reference this stuff all the time, but have never really covered it. Blasphemy!

Japanese mayo is more tart than the regular American version. This is because vinegar is added. And don’t forget the ever-important, save-all: MSG. NO WONDER this stuff is the best on the market.

In Japan, they seriously drizzle this stuff on EVERYTHING. Fried foods, sushi rolls, canned fish for salads, yakisoba, pasta– you name it, and they’ll douse it.

Standard packaging for Japanese mayo is the squishy tube with the red screw cap. This could definitely be filed under Packaging Whore, as it is some of the smartest ever invented.

The iconic star-shaped spout.

Japanese mayo is a bit runnier than American mayo, which is thick enough to cut with a fork and knife.

Let’s compare Japanese mayos! I’ll be writing sporadically on the major brands, and throw in a few flavored ones, as well as the “healthy” low-cal versions.

First up: Kenko. The obvious choice is always Kewpie, which is what is usually on the shelves at the market, but this is what I have in the fridge right now, so here goes.

The logo is a cute little chefboy.

Tastes like regular Kewpie to me, which is to say, Japanese mayonnaise. The main difference between Kenko and Kewpie is price– Kenko will be at least a dollar cheaper at the store (around $5).

PREFACE:
Ingredients + Recipe
Prep + Boil

I’m not sugarcoating this. I need you to understand what a truly, utterly, and horrifyingly HUGE PAIN IN THE ASS this entire project is. When browsing the I N T E R N E T for recipes, no one ever tells you that this is such a life-consuming ordeal. They just state everything in these nonchalant, concise sentences, like: “Stir over low heat for four hours,” or “Now, sterilize the jars.” No one ever says, “For real, it takes four hours, and you better keep it on low heat or you’re gonna burn the hell out of the bottom of the pot,” or “Clean up is a fucking bitch, and could take over an hour.”

Jamming and preserving is such a fad these days, but don’t do it unless you have a zen-like patience in the kitchen. It’s really really really time consuming and is a huge energy-sucker.

This part, the jarring and clean-up, is just the absolute worst. It’s so daunting that I avoided doing it for three days. By the fourth day, I knew I had to deal with it, and just finish it once and for all.

Here goes.

So I left my two batches of chutney in the fridge over night. I decided to consolidate the pots, even though one was considerably darker brown in color than the other.

Remember how I told you that I suspected that Batch #2 was darker in color because I possibly burned the bottom of the pot a little? Try A LOT. I basically burned the ENTIRE bottom of the pot.

Uhhh… so yah… low heat. Stir often. Got it. Also, let me comment that a pot like Le Crueset works best for this project. Not just any old heavy pot, apparently.

Here it is post-consolidation. Glad it all fit.

The chutney itself is good, but a bit sour. I suspect that my plum to other dry ingredient ratio was a bit off, and I added too much vinegar and mustard seeds. My genius Tapatio plan didn’t help. So I added some brown sugar here, to try to smooth it out. But not too much, as I didn’t want it to have that cloying too-much-sugar aftertaste.

Sterilizing jars. This part fucking blows, even if it’s as easy as sticking the jars into boiling water. You have to place the jars juuuust right, so they all fit and are submerged in the water. Lots of hot water spilling all over the place and onto me. Not fun.

Take out after about 10 minutes.

While the jars were drying, I kept stirring the chutney. It needs to be bubbling when you put it into the jars– I believe the heat helps sanitize and seal the jars.

It’s very thick at this point and ready to go. It’s a deep purple/brown color. I wish I didn’t burn it, for the color’s sake. Luckily, it doesn’t taste burnt or anything.

Scoop hot chutney into the jars. Again, NOT EASY! It’s really hot and I’m really clumsy so you can only imagine how many FBombs I was throwing while doing this.

My poor hands are so burnt after this!

Alright, so I screwed on all the  lids, and decide to try the “upside down” method from when I made apricot jam. This should help seal the jars properly.

Totally doesn’t work. So I tried the method stated in the actual recipe, which is to submerge the jars, with the lids on, into hot water, and boil.

This actually works, and I was able to seal all but two of the jars. Waiting to see whether or not the jars seal properly is very nerve-wracking, and I can’t help but to try pushing down on the lid every other minute, despite the fact that the recipe explicitly says, “Let cool undisturbed for 24 hours.” HA!

The chutney is in the jars! HOORAY!!!

Right?

Wrong. It ain’t over yet, sucker!

I spent the next hour cleaning this mess. The pots, the stove top, the walls, the floors, all the little oven knobs, EVERYWHERE. The chutney was seriously all over the place.

SNAP! CRACKLE! POP!

Oh, but wait, I’m not done! So the pilot went out in the stove when I was sterilizing the jars, due to all the water spillage. Long story short, I tried to relight the pilot and fucking BROKE the stove. I called my super and he said, “Gee, I wish you would have called me before you did that– it’s a brand new stove and I’m going out of town for the next month.”

*FUCK. MY. LIFE.

All this to say that I’m now a huge believer in outsourcing to third world countries, and I will be buying my chutney and all other preserved fruits and vegetables at Costco at bulk prices.

YES!

Kidding. I’m traumatized for the time being, but I just saw Christi’s mom yesterday who is trying to lure me to her backyard to mine her fig tree, which is fruiting right at this very moment. Fig and lavender syrup? Fig and bacon preserves? Fig-infused vodka?

God, I’m such a masochist.

PS: The taste? It’s still a bit sour, which overwhelms the flavor of the fruit. But the ginger and garlic comes through subtly, and this will go well with lamb or pork. Maybe hot dogs even? It’s quite acidic so it will cut through any fatty flavors nicely.

PPS: The burned pot is still charred to the max– I can’t get it off. Super pissed.

This is one of those projects that I always think I can handle, but it just turns into dread, and ultimately only goes to prove what a huge procrastinator I am. Since I picked up the plums from Christi a week ago, it’s just been this nagging thing that’s been clawing at my brain EVERY FUCKING DAY. I wake up and think, “Oh shit, the plums are going bad,” or “God, I’ve gotta hurry and jar those motherfuckers.” It stresses me out to the point of anxiety. I’m not meant for these sort of big looming projects.

That said, I’m doing it, and I’m fucking gonna finish, goddamnit.

One way I manage my anxiety– for better or for worse– is that I have been doing this in stages, instead of all in one day. So when I last posted, on Tuesday, was when I decided on a recipe, and actually went out and bought all the ingredients. Wednesday, I prepped and started the boil. I continued the boil yesterday, and more or less finished. Today, I will be jarring, and cleaning.

DUN DUN DUN.

So let me show you the prep + boil. In retrospect, it wasn’t so bad. I had literally been dreading this project all day, and forced myself to stay in to do it. “What are you doing tonight?” Yoko asked me. “CHUTNYING,” I responded firmly, as if to say, “Please do not invite me out for dinner because I need to actually start this.”

She knew better, and just nodded. Instead, we had a PBR and whiskey at Acme bar, and went home our separate ways, a bit buzzed. Perfect way to chutney, I suppose.

I started to prep around 7pm. Kinda late, right? I told you I’m the worst procrastinator.

Washed the plums.

Many of them had gone bad in the fridge, since I waited so long to do this. SORRY PLUMS!

Pitted the plums. They were so tender that I just did this with my hands. Dude, so many fucking plums.

Chopped the onion and garlic; grated the ginger.

Bring sugar and cider to a boil, add the fresh and dry ingredients. Remember I told you I didn’t have red pepper flakes, and I was using Tapatio instead? Here goes.

I added about this much.

Then, add plums. This is only about half of the plums that I had pitted. FML.

Stir occasionally. FOR FOUR FUCKING HOURS.

Here it is at Hour One. Watch how it simmers down, little by little. Pretty neat.

What to do with the rest of the plums? My mind reeled. I thought of just making a simple jam, with sugar, or waiting to see how this batch would turn out so I could adjust it accordingly. But around this time (10pm), I decided that I just had to chutney it in the same way. I would just keep dreading it otherwise.

So here’s Batch #2, which I stupidly started about an hour after Batch #1. The only thing I didn’t have was an onion, so I chopped up a shallot instead. This pot is not as heavy as my Le Crueset, fyi.

Batch #1, Hour Two.

Hour Three.

Batch #2, Hour One.

Batch #1, Hour Four. Not bad, K! This is pretty much done.

Batch #2, Hour Two.

It’s 1am at this point and I’m sleepy and cranky and trying to finish THE GIRL WHO KICKED THE HORNET’S NEST but am too distracted with the stirring to really enjoy the book. So I figured I’d finish the chutnying the next day.

Goodnight, Chutney. See you in the morning.

Here is Batch #2, the next day. This is about another 1.5 hours into simmering.

This batch is way darker than Batch #1– almost a dark brown. Remember how I told you that the pot isn’t as heavy as the Le Crueset? I think the chutney burned, which is what darkened this batch.

I’ll leave it up to your imagination as to what this looks like.

I didn’t feel like dealing with jarring cause I had plans to go out last night…

…So I’m gonna start fixing this situation starting NOW. The first batch is a little too sour, so I think I’m gonna reheat, add sugar, and stir for a little while longer. I’ve gotta sanitize the jars, then can these motherfuckers.

Then, clean.

I’ve got yoga in two hours. You think I can do it? Don’t doubt me!

Ho Ho Ho, look what I found. Tapatio PACKETS!!!! You Californians might be used to this kind of goodness, but as a longtime expat, this is a HUGE DISCOVERY.

Walked over to Lanesplitter the other day for a pizza, and they had a container full of these guys. They are so cute, and wanted me to take them home. So I did. I grabbed a bunch and stuck them in my purse before waving goodbye to all the cute punkboys making pizzas.

I’m so stealth.

Can’t get enough of Señor Tapatio. LOVE THIS MAN!

Now, if we can just get Kewpie mayo packets, we’re set for the perfect picnic.