Frequent Flyer Miles & Indian Food @ Raja

When my friend L called to say she had some news—involving a pilot from down under, a layover in Osaka, and many a martini—I immediately gathered our group of gaijin girlfriends for dinner so we could hear the details all together. Since I knew L’s tale would be spicy, I suggested Indian.

Five of us met at my favorite Indian restaurant in all of Osaka: Raja in Temmabashi, which also has a new branch just opened in Yao. The Temmebashi location is neither fancy nor large, holding only about 10-12 tables (depending on how they organize the seating), but the food is out-of-this-world good.

We toasted with a surprisingly good Indian red wine (who knew?), smoky and smooth and only ¥2500 a bottle. (L, still a little hung over from her adventures in pilot-land, stuck to the non-alcoholic Mango Lassi, a slightly sweetened mango and yogurt shake.) We covered all the essentials: when the next flight was scheduled to arrive with him on it—or, more precisely, with him flying it, (in late June); whether there’d be any free frequent flyer miles coming our way as fringe-benefits for L’s friends (never); and then of course, my top priority—what we were going to order (a lot).

So as we gossiped and giggled and gained new appreciation for the airline industry, we ate Chicken Tikka (a sizzling dish of spicy, boneless chicken chunks on top of pan-seared onions and peppers) and then Malai Tikka (also boneless white-meat chicken chunks, but marinated in a sauce of garlic, nuts, yogurt, and butter). Next, we dipped into a potato and cauliflower Alu Gobi curry; a creamy spinach-based Palak Paneer with cubes of fresh white cheese mixed in; two orders of minced chicken Keema Curry (one with eggplant and one with sautéed lotus root); and a rich, lentil-based Dal Paneer, featuring beans stewed with tomato and onion and spices. On the side, we ordered a slew of Indian carbs: cheese nan, garlic nan, onion nan, and—as if the universe were paying homage to L’s aviation adventure—the appropriately misspelled “plane” nan.

We ended with hot, spicy chai tea for half of us and Kingerfisher beers for the rest. Then L went home to sleep off the rest of her hangover, while our other unmarried friend, S, went to check for new deals on Orbitz’s travel site. H, J, and I—all lawfully wedded to Japanese men—gave a collective, nostalgic sigh for the high-flying days of our long-lost singlehood. But then we each happily headed home ourselves, eager, in the end, to see our lovely husbands, who, although possessing nary a pilot’s license among them, have still been able to lay new worlds at the feet of their lucky Western wives.




Details

Temmebashi location:
Indian Restaurant Raja
Osaka shi, Chuo-ku
Otedori, 1-4-1 Osakaya
New Ote Bldg. 1
Tanimachi
06-6949-3800

Yao location:
Indian Restaurant Raja
Osaka fu, Yao shi
Yamamoto Chuo, Minami
1-3-13
Cosmo Paradise Bldg.. 1F
072-999-9279

Menu in English & Japanese; staff speaks some English

Japanniversaries & Tacos @ Ola Tacos

It was my friend Sally’s Japanniversary, and to celebrate her third year of survival in Kansai, we decided to take her for tequila and tacos. (She had a show later that night as part of an improv comedy troupe with which she performs, the Osaka-based “Pirates of the Dotonbori,” and we had the idea that we’d get her even more ready for the stage by ordering her multiple margaritas.)

So a group of us went to Ola Tacos in Shinsaibashi − near enough to her performance in a club along Dotonbouri, but far enough so if she needed to walk off a buzz, she’d have the chance. Ola is a small place, but it’s big enough on both flavor and variety to boast 30-40 kinds of hot sauces (from mild to super hot), a huge range of cocktails (from Cubra Libres to the “Malibu Pine” − coconut, pineapple, and dark rum − to the requisite margaritas), as well as a collection of rare tequilas that the very hip bar-chica, Shino-san, assured us are very hard to find in Japan. Shino-san has a long, wild mane of kinky black hair and was sporting a huge sliver and turquoise-studded necklace, and she explained in charming broken English that the chef, her husband, “makes tortillas every day by hand; hand-made tortilla is also very rare in Japan, even if in Mexico, too.” Then she explained that every year she and her husband go south of the (U.S.) border to study Mexican food and culture (and apparently to shop, given her great accessories and all the Mexican-themed decorations dotting the bar and walls).

We started our Japanniversary fiesta with quesadillas, which Ola offers fried or non-fried. Ours was chicken in tomato sauce, blanketed with melted cheese and topped with fresh guacamole and sour cream. We had pozole, a delicious, spicy soup with pork and “giant corn” (a milder, boiled version of the corn snacks sold fried and salted in Kansai’s combini), garnished with sliced onions and jalapeno. Then came enchiladas verdes, with a sour green tomato sauce over chicken-stuffed tortillas covered in cheese. For tacos, we had ones enfolding a spiced mix of beef, pork, and chicken in chili tomato sauce; then ones with shredded beef and cheese; and a finally an order with pork stewed in orange and a peppery achiote spice.

When we left, we were stuffed, Sally was still standing strong--so she didn’t have to stumble an unsteady serpentine path to her performance after all--and we were looking forward to many more Japanniversaries of toasting kanpai with Ola’s tequila.



Details
Ola Tacos & Bar
Osaka Higashi-Shinsaibashi
1-17-15
Marusei Building, 6F
06-6251-2082

Tuesday - Thursday, 6pm - 1am
Friday & Saturday, 6pm - 3am
Sunday, 6pm - 12am
Closed Monday

Menu in English & Japanese; staff speaks English
Drinks from ¥550-¥950 (excluding rare tequilas)
Food from ¥550-¥1050

English Web site @ http://homepage2.nifty.com/olatacos/eng-index.html

Networking & Taps @ Casa de Oimatsu

As a foreigner in my husband’s homeland, building female friendships in Japan has felt crucial. As a writer, meeting other women whose professions figure prominently in their self-image has felt equally important—especially in a country where many wives forego their careers, and after I had, in some senses, given up my own home for my husband’s. So I knew the foreign professional women’s organization FEW Kansai would be perfect for me, providing job advice as well as professional networking—and, most exciting to me, a monthly Gourmet Club, where members try a new restaurant, trading career insight (as well as fashion tips, gossip, and giggles) over dinner and drinks.

Being an eager FEW participant, and more importantly, perpetually hungry, I recently offered to organize a FEW gourmet event. I told my friend J (another American hyper-focused on her career, and even more hyper-focused on her next meal—making her a soul mate) I needed a great place to go. In the true spirit of sisterhood, she offered the perfect advice: Casa de Oimatsu, a little Spanish restaurant with food, basically, to die for.

At Casa de Oimatsu, nine women found a cozy handful of tables, walls decked with modernistic Spanish posters and wine bottles, a Japanese chef who trained for five years in Spain, and a unique selection of some transcendent dishes. We ordered sangria (¥800/glass), a white one infused with peach, and a red, spicy like mulled wine. We surveyed the menu and the tapas encased in the glass that ran along the bar. Then we ordered food. A lot of it.

Garlic toast with tomato: buttery, salty, garlicky, heavenly (¥300). Broccoli sautéed with bacon, served with a paste of crushed tomato and peanuts (¥300). Creamy scalloped potatoes with sheaves of salsiccia (¥300). Fried lotus root slices sandwiching generously spiced chorizo (¥400). Minced lamb with cumin, garlic, and eggplant (¥350). Grilled red cabbage, mushroom, yellow pepper, red diakon, and eggplant, accompanied by coarse salt for sprinkling and pesto for dipping (¥1260). Three kinds of homemade sausage, all disparately seasoned, with a side of hot mustard (¥1260). Intensely tasty sizzling mushrooms, bacon, and garlic in oil, served with hot, homemade bread (¥840).

Then three kinds of paella: a grilled vegetable version for the vegetarians among us (¥2520 for 2 people); a hearty homemade sausage and white bean variation for those, like me, who eat everything (¥2520 for 2 people); and Casa de Oimatsu’s interpretation of traditional paella, with seafood, red pepper, beans in their pod, and sliced lemon (¥3360). By now, we were too full to order individual desserts, so, with lady-like moderation, we split six or seven: a dessert special of freshly made, moist banana bread slices with chocolate ice cream (¥630); molten chocolate mini-cakes with rich liquid centers(¥630); and a couple of crème brulee, their burnt-sugar shells set off against vanilla ice cream (¥630).

By the end, I had some crucial take-aways for the evening: neither sisterhood nor professional networking has ever been more fulfilling.



Details
Casa de Oimatsu
Shouei Building Kita-kan 1F
Nishi-Tenma 4-2-7, Kita-ku
Osaka 530-0047
06-6365-7007

Lunch 11:30 - 16:00, L.O. 15:00
Dinner 17:30 - 23:30
Food L.O. 22:30
Drink and Tapas last order 23:00
Menu in Spanish & Japanese; staff speaks excellent English

Recession Dining @ Modern Japanese @ Dynamic Kitchen & Bar Sun

With the global recession raging, there’s only one thing a woman like me—who hates to cook, loves to eat out, and has hardworking Japanese husband vainly urging fiscal restraint on his American wife—can do. In an effort to lend my wholehearted support the Kansai restaurant scene, I’ve created my very own stimulus package, the cornerstone of which involves snookering friends into inviting me to their business dinners.

So when I learned that my best friend J had a favor to return to a colleague, a corporate charge card, and a reservation at the modern Japanese restaurant “Dynamic Kitchen & Bar Sun,” I somehow convinced her that all she was missing was me.

As we rode the elevator up to the 27th floor of Sun’s building, I promised to be on my best behavior (i.e., not to order three deserts—and only one spoon), and by floor 25, J seemed at least resigned to my company. We made our way to our table, between Sun’s huge, wall-length windows, with all the lights of Umeda twinkling beyond them, and its sleek bar that wraps around the sparklingly clean open kitchen.

I ordered a glass of cabernet (\950); J had a dry sake (\850), poured into a glass nestled in a wooden box, so the liquor ran over the sides of the glass and into the cube containing it; Y had a gin and tonic (\650). While reviewing the menu—in Japanese but with ample pictures—and deciding on a slew of Sun’s small plates, they brought us complimentary radish soup, thick and tasty, accompanied by a plate of fresh Kyoto vegetables on a bed of shaved ice with a side of salt-spiked shiso, sesame, and white miso dip. This we followed with another deliciously salty dish: earthy burdock root in a soba bean sauce.

Then came a sublime plate of grated yam potato fritters (\850), plum, moist, and crispy all at once; and a lotus root salad, combining fried and fresh slices of Japanese rancon slicked with sesame dressing (\850). Next, we ate fried tofu with boiled radish in a clear broth and slivered scallions (\950). Finally came the two large dishes: a simple grilled white seam-bream, salted and crisp-skinned (\1450) and an incredible blue cheese and minced Hokkaido beef patty wrapped in parchment paper (\1500). The waiter cut open the parchment package at the table, and we watched the steam rise up, then cut into the meaty orb, freckled with chopped scallion and hiding a hot center of melted blue cheese.

When dessert came, Okinawan molasses cake rolled with cream (\750), I kept my promise to J about being on good behavior. Inside, of course, I was fantasizing about hunching over the plate in full defensive posture and swatting my dinner companions’ hands away. But outwardly, I politely spooned modest-sized bites into my mouth, primly dapped the side of my lip, and sat back in grateful satisfaction.

Details
Dynamic Kitchen & Bar Sun
Address & map (in Japanese) @ http://www.dynac-japan.com/sun/shop_osaka.html
06-6367-5512

Weekdays:
Lunch: 11:30～14:00
Dinner: 17:00～23:00 (L.O.22:00)　Sundays & Holidays:
Lunch: 11:30～14:00
Dinner: 17:00～22:30 (L.O.21:30)

In-Laws & Vietnamese @ Anngon

Any gaijin wife like me married to a chonan, or oldest son, knows the challenge that comes with her betrothal to a Japanese man: that as the wife of the chonan, she’s expected to take care of her in-laws when they age.

My father-in-law is a recent widower, so we try to spend as much time as we can with him. But I feel supremely fortunate that, not only is he kind and, even in his late 60’s, still handsome (a good indicator of my sweetie when he ages, I tell myself), he seems completely accepting of me as a foreign daughter-in-law. At least I think he is, although sometimes I worry that maybe he’s just being “Japanese,” showing a polite exterior, and inside, he’s horrified that his only son and eldest child married a loud-mouthed American. But we get along great—especially because, given that I speak barely any Japanese and he speaks just a little English, most of our exchanges consist of bowing and smiling at each other.

In any case, a few weeks ago, my husband and I decided to try a new branch of our favorite Vietnamese restaurant, Anngon, and we invited Otoo-san (“respected father”) to join us.

We met at the Shinsabashi station and from there walked to the super-trendy minimi-senba area, where Anngon is located. Otoo-san had never eaten Vietnamese food before, and he smiled as we entered and saw the bamboo-slatted ceiling with little red lanterns adorning it, embroidered umbrellas and straw hats scatted throughout.

We ordered bottles of Vietnamese beer (¥680) and started with fresh and fried spring rolls (both ¥650), the latter particularly good, stuffed with minced pork, vegetables, and garlic and accompanied by fresh lettuce, bean sprouts, and cilantro sprigs for wrapping. We also had a mind-blowingly good papaya salad (¥880), tangy and slightly spiced, with crisp rice-crackers on the side that crackled as we piled them with the shredded salad.

We moved on to cashew chicken, with a red, barely sweet marinade (¥880) and fresh, delicious sautéed greens with a light pepper sauce (¥900). Then out came the “Hanoi Favorite” sea bass and coriander in a hot pot (¥1280), sizzling hot and loaded with shrimp sauce. My husband and father-in-law chuckled at me when I decided the strongly-scented shrimp sauce was too much for me, but they looked pretty happy to finish the dish themselves.

I thought I may have seen Otoo-san blanche when, after all that, I ordered a dessert of fried banana dumplings with vanilla ice-cream (¥450) and a Vietnamese coffee (¥680), but whatever notions he may have had about my unseemly appetite were quickly dispelled when he tasted both. The dumplings were, quite simply, to die for, and the coffee strong and delicious, coming to us as grounds in a filter over a glass of thick, sweetened condensed milk, so we could pour the water into the filter from a little iron kettle and watch the dark brew seep down into the white creamy concoction.

As the meal ended, I managed almost a full sentence in Japanese, saying “Otoo-san, oishikata-desuka?” (was it delicious?). “Yes, delicious!” he smiled hugely and answered in English, looking from me to my husband and back again.
I smiled back, happy that together as a family we were well-fed, well-cared-for, and fluent at communicating about what matters most.




Details:

Anngon Vietnamese Café
4-11-24, Minami-senba, 2nd Floor
Chuo Ku
Osaka City, Osaka
542-0081

Lunch & café time: 12:00-17:00
Dinner: 17:00-23:00
Open every day

Tel: 06-6282-4567

Address and info in Japanese @ http://www.anngon.com/anngon/index.html
Map in Japanese @ http://www.anngon.com/anngon/access/index.html

Menus in Japanese and Vietnamese with pictures; Staff speaks limited English.

Reunions & Chinese @ Ajito

A few weeks ago I got back to Osaka, my husband T’s hometown, after spending a well-needed extended stay in Boston, my hometown. As T and I arrived back at our apartment near Temmabashi—after my having woken 24 hours earlier, at 3:30am EST, to embark on a 17 and ½ hour flight, a 3-hour layover, the hour-long bus trip from Kansai airport to Hommachi, and then a cab ride to our apartment—we savored our first few moments alone together after weeks of being apart. We threw our arms around each other with an abandon T, being traditionally Japanese, could not encourage in the arrival hall of Kansai airport. We kissed passionately. We gazed meaningfully into each others’ eyes. And then, we engaged in one of our relationship’s most time-honored expressions of intimacy and longing: we went out to eat.

And because T knows how to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, he took me to one of my favorite restaurants in Kansai: the small-but-stylish, upscale-but-not-pretentious Ajito, a “Chinese Izakaya” that I think is the best-kept secret in the Temmabashi area.

Ajito opened last year, and with its sleek wooden furnishings, gleaming half-open kitchen, and interesting displays of sparkling glass jugs holding exotic spices, eating there provides an experience chic enough to belie its title of Izakaya.

As we slid into our seats and ordered a bottle of beer (¥480), I began to smell the spices cooking, and immediately my jet-lag started to dissipate. T also ordered a sochu, of which Ajito has a whole wall of unique offerings from Kyushu, along with a selection of sake (¥380 for a glass – ¥3000 for a bottle). Then they brought us our first appetizer—pan-fried dumplings filled with minced pork, scallion, and tiny nuggets of shrimp, all wrapped in a soft, lightly oil-slicked gyoza (¥480) and marinated in a spicy pepper-and-soy dressing—and I really perked up.

We progressed onto a seafood salad, with seared salmon, shrimp, fresh lettuce, a lemon wedge, and a light dressing (¥730). We gazed longingly at the Harumaki (fried spring rolls), one of our usual favorites featuring minced pork, shitake, and other chopped vegetables (¥460), but decided three appetizers might be too much given my travel-weary state. Especially since we had our eyes on three main courses.

We feasted on plates of chicken with sweet miso sauce, peppers, and eringi and shitake mushrooms (¥730); sweet-and-spicy chicken with cashew, dried red pepper, green beans, mushrooms, and onion (¥730); and black pepper beef, stir-fried with eringi mushrooms, spring onions, and red pepper (¥880). By now, the food coma was beginning to set it, compounded by my jet-lag, so I limited myself to just one dessert: their luscious goma dango, or friend sesame dumplings, with a sweet black sesame paste tucked into fried mochi and covered with toasted white sesame seeds.

As the meal ended, we headed home happy but tired, hand-in-hand—hoping that by the time we got there, we would have digested enough of the excellent meal to engage in one other of our relationship’s most time-honored expressions of intimacy and longing.

Details:
Ajito Chinese Izakaya
Address: 大阪府大阪市中央区糸屋町1-2-3 大手前恵ビル 1F

Lunch: 11:30 - 14:00
Dinner: 17:00 - 22:00 (LO)

Closed Sundays

Tel: 06-6910-0022Fax: 06-6910-0033

Map (in Japanese) @ http://r.tabelog.com/osaka/A2701/A270104/27013781/dtlmap/

Menus in Japanese with pictures; Staff speaks limited English.

New Friends & Ramen @ Kinryu Ramen

Being an expat in Osaka can be lonely, even if you’re married to a lovely local, as I am. With far fewer Westerners than Tokyo or even Kobe or Kyoto (at least proportionally), and with Japan’s obsession over uchi/soto (inside/outside, or who’s part of the “group” vs. who’s just some strange anomaly talking too loudly and blanching at the site of natto), Osaka can feel isolating.

So I was thrilled when I met H, another Bostonian. I was double-thrilled when I found out we had gone to the same university (although we never met there). Then triple-thrilled when I discovered H was marrying a man from Osaka, so we could giggle and commiserate over the adventures of gaijin wifehood.

But I was truly over the moon when I found out that H’s intended runs Kansai’s famed Kinryu Ramen. For me, a woman who goes week-kneed when her husband whispers “reservations,” a new friend with “insider” access to 24-hour dining is like hitting the mother-lode. Of course, intellectually I know that “insider” access doesn’t actually mean anything, since anyone can order a bowl of ramen anytime at one of Kinryu’s five locations. But inside my own little fantasy world, the idea of entering a restaurant and having the Maitre-d’ recognize me as “in” is immensely exciting—never mind the fact that Kinryu has no Maitre-d’ and, being Japanese-language impaired, I probably couldn’t communicate with him even if it did.

In fact, Kinryu is one of the most laid-back eateries you could find. But—and here I swear I’m speaking not just as a friend of the fiancé of the son of the owner—what it lacks in red-carpet potential it more than makes up for in soup. And perfectly cooked, tender-but-still-firm noodles. And spiced-to-make-your-tongue-dance kimchee.

On one of our first new-friend-night-outs, H took me to one of Kinryu’s two Dountonburi branches. We sat crossed-legged on tatami at an informal, open-air table. Then I met her charming fiancé, whom I liked immediately, especially since he was holding steaming bowls of ramen, heaped with fresh garlic and kimchee.

As we feasted on hot, delicious soup, he told us about Kinryu. His father, of Korean descent, first opened the chain in 1982. The name means golden dragon (which explains the huge green and gilded figure jutting out from the roof above us, a favorite among picture-snapping tourists). Kinryu’s specialty is its broth, which is lighter than traditional ramen to complement the strong flavors of the restaurant’s kimchee, a “secret family recipe.”

The menu is simple: Tonkotsu ramen with pork broth (¥600) and Chashumen (¥900), featuring extra pork meat on top. Then there are the three free, unlimited toppings: fresh garlic, Kinryu’s specially-sauced hakusai kimchee, made of cabbage; and mira kimchee, uniquely spiced chives.

"The noodles are made on site,” H’s betrothed tells us. “We don't let the fire run out on the stove; we add the broth from the night before to the new soup, so the ramen gets thicker and thicker. We also cook the pork right here,” he tells us.

H and I listen, launching our chopsticks again and again into our bowls until we’re scraping the bottom with our spoons. When we’re done, I lean back, holding my knees for support. I look at H and her fiancé and think that, despite how hard it sometimes feels to live in Osaka, I’m lucky for the many treasures I’ve found here: new friends, the adventures of a land a hemisphere away from home, my loving Osakan husband, and luscious bowls of ramen, which you can slurp and savor, 24/7, under a magical golden dragon.


Details:

The main Kinryu Ramen branch is at 1-7-13 Midosuji Osaka-shi, Chuo-ku, Namba (Namba Station - Exit 14)
It’s other four locations are at:
· 1-1-18 Doutonbori, Osaka-shi, Chuo-ku, Namba
· 335 Ebisubashi, Osaka-shi, Chuo-ku, Namba
· 1-7-26 Doutonbori, Osaka-shi, Chuo-ku, Namba
· 1120 Nambasennichimae, Osaka-shi, Chuo-ku, Namba