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The case of the vanishing kinoko gohan

Some people measure domestic happiness in flowers or love notes. I, apparently, measure it in how fast a pot of kinoko gohan disappears from my refrigerator.

And this all started because I was browsing JustOneCookbook.com again and finally tried their kinoko gohan recipe. I’m so happy I did, though I’m beginning to suspect the ripple effects are going to keep complicating my leftover planning for the foreseeable future. And yet here I am, a week later, marveling at how this humble mushroom rice keeps sabotaging my meticulously choreographed leftover strategy. I had plans for that next day bento. My husband, evidently, had other plans… namely, opening the fridge at odd hours and quietly “just having a little bowl,” a ritual that has left me with an increasingly abstract relationship to portion control.

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Fun Friday Saskia Rock Fun Friday Saskia Rock

Proof that nothing goes to waste in Japan. Especially the yummy bits

One of the great joys of living in Japan is discovering that the parts of the chicken many Western kitchens throw away are, in fact, the absolute best bits. Exhibit A for today’s Fun Friday deliciousness: yakitori with chicken skin, or kawa, grilled to golden, salty, slightly chewy perfection. And if you’re wondering why mine looks especially beautiful in the photo, it’s because I happen to live with a man who has quietly become an expert yakitori chef. Lucky me indeed.

There is something magical about chicken skin on a skewer. When it hits the grill, the fat starts to render just enough to crisp the edges while leaving the inside soft and rich. A quick brush of tare gives it that glossy, caramelized finish. Paired with negi, the Japanese spring onion that somehow becomes sweeter on the grill, you get this perfect balance of textures and flavors. It’s the kind of food that makes you instinctively lean forward after the first bite, already plotting the next skewer.

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Hiyashi Chūka: A summer love letter in a bowl

When the Japanese summer wraps the country in its humid embrace, there's one dish my husband always makes that feels like a gentle breeze through cicada-filled trees: Hiyashi Chūka. It's colorful, cooling, and comforting, like edible fireworks on Tanabata night.

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