Kushiyaki

I like meats on sticks, and I especially like kushiyaki, which is the Japanese version of shish kebabs. I prefer my kushiyaki seasoned with salt instead of soy sauce. But I didn't mind whatever came my way when I sat down for a 2.5-hour dinner with a good friend of mine on Thursday at Nanbankan. Winding down a long week that took its toll emotionally and mentally on me, I met my friend for a delightfully long and honest girl talk. When we weren't chatting, we noshed on cold sake, grilled chicken meatballs, green beans and burdock root wrapped in bacon and triangle-shaped rice balls that were stuffed with dried bonito, seaweed and sesame seeds and then grilled over an open flame. The waitress tilted the chilled bottle of sake over the glass until the clear liquid flowed over the brim and formed a little puddle on the saucer under the glass. Of the two sakes we tried, the Harushika was dry and crisp while the Kubota Senju was fruity and light. My neighbors sitting to the right of me said their cocktail choice, Otoko no yama, was a light and smooth libation. After I scooped up the last bit of lychee ice cream and emptied the complimentary cup of green tea that was offered at the end of the meal, I forgot exactly what were the boy troubles that led me to meeting my friend in the first place.

Muter Paneer

Pork Chop's mom taught me how to make muter paneer on Tuesday. We didn't have time to make the paneer (cheese) from scratch, although I was told that all you need for home-made paneer is milk, lemon juice and a couple of hours to spare. But the white block of paneer purchased at an Indian grocery store around Los Angeles did the trick. I wonder if Indians look at paneer wrapped in shrink-wrap plastic the same way that non-Indians look at Velveeta. The entire dish took less than a half-hour to make. Muter paneer, which is essentially a tomato-based sauce with paneer and peas, originated in northern India. Even though Pork Chop's mom is from southern India, she mastered the dish after learning it from her friends who hail from the North. She also had a secret ingredient that her friends never use. Maybe that's why her muter paneer is considered yummier than her friends'. Pork Chop’s uncle, who was visiting from India, observed my cooking lesson. The white-haired gent never cooks and I don’t think he ever needed to or will have to in his life. But he kept asking how much of certain ingredients his sister added in the pot. So I think he might surprise his family in India by whipping up a batch of muter paneer after he returns from the U.S. Rounding out our dinner were yogurt, rice, dal with spinach and a southern Indian-style hash made of cabbage, green peas, potatoes and mustard seeds.