Tag Archives: food

The Pain of Survival and Aunt Michie – Part 2


Taken in 1945 after a B-29 bombing attack on Tokyo. There is little left of the city and many, many families were without food and homes. Sadly, there were thousands of orphans as well, many of whom would perish.

Human dignity is as crucial to an earnest life as is air, water and food.

Aunt Michie drew upon that dignity inside her to help her family and others survive the day to day ruthlessness of life during war and ultimately, the atomic bombing.

While her dignity was larger than life, Michie would ultimately sacrifice her health and well-being to ensure her family and others would survive…and survive strongly.

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Japanese high school girls being drilled on how to use bamboo spears to ultimately repel “the invaders”. Notice the presence of the Imperial Japanese Army in the background observing.  Tokyo 1944.

By January 1945, Japan had already lost the war.  While the Japanese military leaders controlled the country and its path to ultimate destruction, the civilians took the brunt of war.  Many cities had been destroyed by US bombing raids leaving millions of families homeless.  There was not enough food to go around.  Many starved to death, especially orphaned children, if not from neglect as others would shut their eyes to them.

However, Hiroshima was largely spared from aerial attack.  The US did carry out bombing raids in March and April 1945 against military targets in Hiroshima but it was not frequent…but it was frequent enough to require air raid drills  The naval port of Kure though, where the battleship Yamato was built, was essentially destroyed in June 1945 by US Army and Navy bombing attacks.

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A hand drawn map showing targets and damage to Hiroshima by US bombing raids including the atomic bombing. For a zoomable map, please copy and paste this link into your search bar: http://www.digital.archives.go.jp/DAS/meta/DGDetail_en_0000000611
Source: National Archives of Japan

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After her marriage in 1933, Michie was tasked to arduous farm labor at the Aramaki farm.  Their primary crop was rice.  She also gave birth to five children before war’s end: Masako (1933), Sadako (1936), Namie (1939), Tomiko (1942) and Masataka (1944).  Kiyoshi would follow in 1947.  She loved them unconditionally.

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A happy Aunt Michie and likely Tomiko. Tomiko would soon be adopted by another family in the actual city of Hiroshima.  Undated but perhaps 1943.

On the farm lived Mikizo, his parents and Michie.  The four of them – and eventually three of her oldest daughters (a total of seven family members) – would work the land from a little before sunrise to sunset.  It was hard, arduous labor.  Back breaking work.  They did not have John Deere tractors or combines to aid them but had an ox to plow the fields with.  This was 24/7.

After all that hard labor, nearly the entire crop was taken by the Japanese military for the war.  They were allowed to retain a small portion of the crop for their own use.  As a result, rice was even further rationed for family consumption.  They had no choice.  On top of that, there was little else to eat.  They lived a meager life per my cousins.

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As the war dragged on, Japan was descending into the abyss…and it kept getting more and more darker.

In the story “Dear Mama”, Michie’s youngest brother Suetaro (my uncle) hurriedly wrote a somber good bye letter to Grandmother Kono in his war diary.  He was being sent off to war and certain death.

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Farewell sendoff for Suetaro who was heading to certain death. Michie is to his left and holding Masataka; Mikizo to his right. It is only an educated guess but the older man to the right of Mikizo is his father.  May 3, 1944.

I wonder how she really felt, knowing that Suetaro was going to fight to his death against the country in which his two older brothers and sister were imprisoned.  They were her brothers and sister, too.  An ugly internal conflict.

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The area around Tomo was nearly barren of younger, physically capable men.  All the men up to 35 years of age were taken by the army, regardless of their family status.  Mikizo was no exception.

In late 1944, at 35 years of age, he was taken by the Imperial Japanese Army.  Suetaro foresaw that happening in his farewell letter; he warned Mikizo to fully cooperate with the officers and to do exactly as he was ordered.  This was because it was brutal even within the non-commissioned ranks of the Imperial Japanese Army; the training officers routinely beat recruits into submission.  These recruits were largely the men who were ordered to their deaths in “banzai charges” by the thousands.  They greatly outnumbered the “hard core” Japanese officers.

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Aftermath of a banzai charge.

Aunt Michie’s family who tended to the back breaking labor on the farm was now lessened by one.  As with her brother Suetaro, she foresaw never seeing Mikizo again.

To make matters worse, her mother (my Grandmother Kono) suffered a cerebral infarction the day she learned Suetaro was being sent off to war.  She became paralyzed on her left side.  To get about the now empty house, she would have to pull herself around with her right arm.

On top of everything else – tending to the crops, the house and the children – Aunt Michie now had to care for her disabled mother.

Michie’s daily life was now further strained with even more stress…  Life must have appeared darker to Aunt Michie.

Michie’s willpower and dignity will now be on trial and severely tested.

But the struggles she will endure will have purpose.

She would not let her family down.

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To be continued in Part 3….

The Pain of Survival and Aunt Michie – Part I


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Uncle Yutaka and darling little Aunt Michie in Hiroshima. Circa 1918.

Life in Hiroshima was uncertain and grueling in 1945 – especially for women and children.  It is a fact that nearly all the men up to the age of 35 had been taken by the Japanese military.  For many, it was truly day to day.

Little food, clothing and medical care.  It all went to the military…and then there were the B-29’s and the bombings.  Devils associated with being on the losing side of war.

But at 8:15 AM on August 6, 1945, my Aunt Michie’s already tough life would be cast into wretchedness to test her mortal soul.  She was in her farm’s field clearing old crops on that hot summer morning.  There was an intense flash of light then the atomic bomb’s shockwave traveling close to the speed of sound slammed into her.  She was catapulted and hit the ground.

At the same instant, her oldest daughter and my cousin Masako – who was eleven and in her classroom nearby – was hurled across the classroom by the same shockwave.  The schoolgirls that were standing in front of her were pierced by shards of glass and debris.

Below is an eye opening re-enactment supplemented by computer simulation of the atomic blast in 1945.  Perhaps you can put yourself into Aunt Michie’s or Masako’s shoes on that morning and experience what they did:

After years of a most grueling life, Aunt Michie and her children would now face the searing pain of surviving.

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Even while giving shaves at my Grandfather’s barbershop in Seattle, Grandma Kono was busy in her early years of marriage.  She gave birth to Yutaka (1910), Hisao (1912) then Michie in 1914.  Other children followed: Shizue (1917), Dad (1919), Suetaro (c. 1921) and Mieko (c. 1924).  A total of seven.

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(L to R) Yutaka, Dad, Suetaro, MICHIE, Shizue, Great Grandmother Kame, Mieko and Grandmother Kono. Circa 1928, Hiroshima.

All seven of the siblings were born in Seattle…  All except for Michie who was born in Hiroshima.

My cousins tell me their mother Michie told them she would wistfully ask her family, “Why couldn’t I have been born in America like everyone else?!”  Lovingly, of course.

Aunt Michie never did get a chance to visit America.

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Dad’s siblings came to Hiroshima and half of them were able to return to Seattle to continue their lives as Americans before war with America.  But Michie lived her entire life in Japan.  She was the oldest sister to the siblings and helped Grandma Kono raise them.

Michie’s father (my Grandfather Hisakichi) was a devout Buddhist.  He required the family to chant Buddhist mantras daily; it was not “praying” but a way through which a follower “energized” himself to the teachings of Buddha.  Dad’s Hiroshima home to this day has the altar in the main room where they chanted; it is unchanged in nearly a hundred years having survived the shockwave from the atomic blast.

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My father’s family home is at “A”; Aunt Michie’s home in the village of Tomo is at “B”.  About five miles separates the two homes.  The atomic bomb’s hypocenter is towards the bottom right where rivers split up.

According to well accepted family lore, a man from a village called Tomo came to the house one fateful day apparently to seek one of his daughter’s hand in marriage.  His name was Mikizo Aramaki.  He immediately went to the altar and chanted.  Grandfather Hisakichi was so impressed by his devotion to the Buddhist way of life that he immediately gave his daughter away in marriage…but apparently, Grandather gave away the wrong daughter – Aunt Michie.  It is said Mikizo had come seeking the hand of my Aunt Shiz.  (Aunt Shiz was the prize of the village according to my cousin Masako.)

Being of farming heritage, Mikizo had acreage and a home.  After Aunt Michie was told she was to marry Mikizo, she was, to say the least, not very happy.  I guess that is a slight understatement if I say so myself.  She argued – pleaded – with my Grandfather that she didn’t want to marry him and that she was not raised to be a farmer…but to no avail.

Aunt Michie was given away in marriage.  Done deal.

They wed in 1933.  She was nineteen years old.

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To be continued in Part II

Somebody Say Strawberry?


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My completed strawberry pie.

This old croaker of a former mechanic thought he could cook… again.

Will I ever learn?  Would someone padlock the kitchen please?

Actually, I had a request… for a homemade strawberry pie.

Daryl Strawberry first came to mind.

Duh.  I must have been on drugs, too.  What did I get myself into?  What was I thinking?  A strawberry pie?

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The key ingredients including the freaking huge strawberries.

So I found a recipe in Cook’s Illustrated once again.  It looked easy enough.

And there weren’t too many ingredients: sugar, cornstarch, pectin, fresh lemon juice and salt…… and strawberries.

Lots of strawberries.

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Well, Cook’s Illustrated failed me this time.

They didn’t write down what SIZE of strawberries to get – just a weight.

Blasphemy.

I thought strawberries were all about the same size.  You know.  Size doesn’t matter.

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Well, the FRESH strawberries I ended up buying were too big.  Freaking too HUGE.

Geez.

And there were LOTS of them.  And they needed to be hulled.  Heck, I knew I would eventually slice my fingers trying to hull them all with a knife so I cheated.  Mechanics love tools, right?  I bought this fancy-schmancy huller for seven bucks.

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For size comparison purposes, I took a picture of the gizmo alongside one of the freaking huge strawberries I bought. It is all Cook’s Illustrated’s fault indeed for not explaining what size strawberries to get.
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This is what it looks life after you press that green button on this fancy-schmancy gizmo made by Chef’N Corporation. You push it into the strawberry, let go of the button and twist. It worked great! But I learned it is better if you remove the sepals first (I found out that’s what the little green leaves on the top of the strawberry are called.).

What a deal.  Hulling was now a piece of cake!  (Shhh…  Quiet.  My little Cake Boss may hear.)

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The recipe called for whole strawberries.  But because the strawberries I bought were so freaking huge, they looked like bowling balls in the pie crust.  While I didn’t know if it was taboo or not but I decided to cut the strawberries in half.  I was worried that all that juice would leak out and make the crust feel like you were biting into a sponge.

(I cheated again and got pre-made crusts; it really shrunk big time after baking as you can see in the picture.  I will endeavor to make the crust from scratch next time.  Oops.  Someone stop me from trying that, please.)

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Well, aside from the glaze not becoming transparent enough and the incredible shrinking crust, the pie turned out tasting great.

I will write a scathing letter of complaint to Cook’s Illustrated.  They did not consider that old berry-brained former mechanics like me would actually try to follow their recipes.

I will also write a letter to President Obama and have him execute another Executive Order to change the law – that Cook’s Illustrated must write their recipes so that old former mechanics will understand.

But why complain.

I will just go to Marie Callendar’s next time and buy a strawberry pie for $8.99.

Spaghetti al Limone


IMG_7741Pasta al dente.

Man, who wouldn’t be salivating just reading those three little words.

Well, my kids did…not.

“Pasta?  Again, Papa?  Can we have something different…please?”

Kinda tough to hear when you’re a single dad pretending to be a miracle chef…

I’m sorry.  Cook, not chef.

And to find something that they both like?  Ha!

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To please my mollycoddled rug rats, I scoured my bible: “Cook’s Illustrated”.  In addition to the tried and true recipes of my bud and chef Cathy Thomas, Cook’s Illustrated is my go-to play book.  I think the Denver Broncos could have used one last weekend…a playbook, that is.

By sheer fortune, Cook’s Illustrated had what sounded to be a delectable pasta dish…  Spaghetti al limone.  And it sounded pretty light and (relatively) healthy to boot and it was a huge change from my man-kitchen pasta repertoire.  As an example, my from-scratch Alfredo sauce would make Fat Albert REAL happy.  It is laden with luscious butter, cream and Parmigiano-Reggiano.  The only healthy thing in it is the garlic and a dash of nutmeg.  But man, its to die for!  Oops.

So I gave Spaghetti al limone a shot…and the kids loved it!  Both of them.  Ye-haw!  Of course, garlic bread was a required accompaniment, making their smiles even bigger.

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In my attempt here, I should have used a bit more of the basil leaves; it surely would have added a bit more color and brightness.

For those interested, the ingredients are:

  • Salt
  • 1 pound spaghetti
  • 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, plus more for serving
  • 1 medium shallot, minced (about 3 tablespoons)
  • 1/4 cup heavy cream
  • 1-1/2 cups reserved pasta cooking water
  • 2 teaspoons finely grated zest and 1/4 cup juice from 3 lemons
  • 1 ounce finely grated Parmesan cheese (about 1/2 cup), plus more for serving
  • Ground black pepper
  • 2 tablespoons shredded fresh basil leaves

(Note: For the lemon zest, I like the zester made by Microplane.  And be sure to use ONLY the yellow part of the peel and avoid the pith.)

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So whether or not you have kids to appease, engorge yourself on this pasta dish.  It’s a great cure if you’re feeling down.  Your palate will love it.

Yes.  It was that good.

And a US Marine blogger intimated that my food pictures he saw were “dated”…  meaning “Do I still cook”?

Well, he don’t get any.

That’ll teach him. 🙂

Pineapple Upside Down Cake from Scratch, Anyone?


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The major ingredients

It was surprising when quite a few friends and family let me know they liked Pineapple Upside Down cake.  It was as if I was King George and  I found out I had a receding heir line.  (I know.  Lousy pun.)

Even my oldest daughter said she liked pineapple upside down cake – you know, the one who doesn’t like mushrooms or my fabulous Maytag Bleu Cheese salad.  LOL

Making a pineapple upside down cake was a challenge.  I had not even CUT a pineapple before.  Pineapple cores s’mores.  A pineapple was also WWII slang for an American grenade.  The kind that blows up.

I got the general recipe from Cook’s Illustrated, my Buddhist kitchen bible of sorts.  Indeed, I did a sutra chanting before making the first cut into a pineapple.

But the ingredients were simple and commonplace – aside from the pineapple:

  • Brown sugar
  • Granulated sugar
  • Maraschino cherries (because a kind and deserving gal wished for it)
  • Unbleached flour
  • Unsalted butter
  • Vanilla extract
  • Two and a half eggs, and
  • Salt

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Taking the first slice into pineapple was like a mother going into labor for the first time.  Not the pain – the apprehension.  Should the cut be made to follow the pineapple shape?  Or straight down?

How much of the center do I cut out?  I imagined a Dole pineapple slice…

Heck, I cut two pineapples up to get the recommended four cups then threw them onto a skillet with the brown sugar.  So far, so good?

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Pineapple chunks a-stewing. It was amazing to see how much they shrunk.

The conglomeration was then strained and the sweet smelling liquid was returned to the pan off the heat.  The butter and vanilla extract was whisked in.

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Butter and vanilla extract added off-heat and before whisking.

Returning to the heat, the concoction was then simmered until the bubbles became “larger”.  Talk about ambiguity.  🙂  (Now you ladies know how us logically thinking men feel when you say, “Can’t you see it?  It’s the blue car with the thing-a-ma-jig on it.”)

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The bubbles got “much larger” than this. 🙂

Every last drop was poured into a 9″ cake pan.

I made the cake batter as per the recipe.  Importantly, it recommended two eggs plus the whites only from the third egg.  It’s purpose was to help the cake support the weight of the pineapple and molasses-like syrup.

The simmered pineapples were laid into the cake pan and syrup then dotted with the cherries.  The batter – which was quite thick – was carefully dropped on the pineapples and smoothed over.  I did my best to ensure the batter reached the sides but fell a tad short in some areas.  Darn it.

Before heading into the oven.
Before heading into the oven.  I couldn’t make it to the edge all the way around.

After 45 minutes in a oven preheated to 350F, it was done!  During cooling, I took a thin paring knife and carefully separated the cake from the sides.

After ten minutes on a cooling rack, it was time for the showdown: me against gravity.  Had to flip the darn thing over without messing it up…which I did before. 🙂

The chanting did me well, I guess.  The flipping went flawlessly.

Success - on the flipping part!  Not the taste!
Success – on the flipping part! Not the taste!

So who likes pineapple upside down cake?

We’ll find out today if the cores-smore’s are the Snowden of baking.  I hope I cut enough of the core out.

Orgasmic Butter


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An Italian, a Frenchman and an Aussie were talking about screams of passion.

The Italian said: “Last night I massaged my wife all over her body with the finest extra virgin olive oil, then we made passionate love and I made her scream nonstop for five minutes.”

The Frenchman said: “Last night I massaged my wife all over her body with special aphrodisiac oil from Provence and then we made passionate love. I made her scream for fifteen minutes straight.”

The Aussie said: “That’s nothing! Last night I massaged me wife, y’know, all over her body with a special butter. I caressed her entire body with the butter and then made love. I made her scream for two long hours.”

The Italian and Frenchman, astonished, asked, “Two full hours?  Wow!  That’s phenomenal.  How did you do it to make her scream for two hours?”

The Aussie replied, “I wiped my hands on the curtains.”

A Saturday in SoCal


A wordless post.

Well, almost.

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So what happens on a beautiful weekend in SoCal?

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Picked up the wall portrait of my kids from Alan Miyatake of Toyo Miyatake Studios.
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This appears to be an artistic rendition of one of Alan’s photographs of Ms. Condoleezza Rice?
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The famous grandfather of Alan, Toyo Miyatake.

Went to visit dad…  The workers there told me he’s not eating much as of late.  He only had a small salad with a little bit of chicken for lunch.  When I asked him if he was hungry, he said no but when I showed him one of his favorite Japanese treats, he went to town.

Number one.

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There goes number two!

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Number three down the hatch!

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He’s happy now. 🙂  And he did finish the last ball.IMG_0102

Took him one of Alan’s 8×10’s…labeled.  He’s 94 now.

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My bud Brian drove down from Reno for St. Paddy’s Day weekend – no better excuse to share a stogie together!

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Played around with my new Canon SX260 HS point and shoot camera.  Never had one that I can remember but it was fun to shoot with.

Superior close up capability.

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Hand held.  Look at the detail… Not bad for a shaky ol’ fart?

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I’m keeping an eye on all of you! Who’s got Visine?

Fish eye setting…

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My neighbor’s new son, Gabriel.  The father is USAF…  I pray for his safe return always.aIMG_0168

And finally, these were for me.  Like father, like son!  LOL

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A Chatter Master Morning


Ever wonder what happens when Chatter Master influences your daily life…

Lots.  Just lots.

It started with a surprise from the reliable Chatter Master… delivered by the (usually unreliable) postal service.

A Surprise

What was in it?

A magic mug…made by Irish leprechauns, no doubt.  Mischievous little buggers, they are!

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So what did this leprechaun-made magic mug do for us this morning?

A brew of dark, just ground French roast coffee magically filled my magic mug…brewed at the perfect temperature of 195F, of course.  Thank goodness they didn’t brew up a green smoothie.  Miracle of miracles!

And the mug summoned Spring.

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And a little visitor joined us – laden with delicious spring pollen.  Achoo!

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It made me make homemade waffles for the rug rats…with real maple syrup.

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And the magic Chatter Master mug summoned our good neighbor Jake!  He ate three!  And the great kid he is, he took his plate to the sink.

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The magic mug also compelled my son to work on his science project!  (Of course, there was a bribe involved…that only partially worked.)

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See what happens during a Chatter Master inspired morning??

Wait…  What’s this?  The yard looks the same…  What’s up with that?

Dessert for a Nice Lady


There is a nice person at a place I frequent.

Always smiling and courteous.

So she deserved a homemade treat…  A strawberry and almond frangipane tart.

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And you know what?  She smiled…and that made me smile.

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And I thought it matched her hair…and she had two servings.

No better compliment at that.

Mabo Dofu – Spicy and YUM-YUMMY!


How’s about a little change-up – like in spicy heat?

Mabo Dofu!  Some call it Szechuan Tofu.  Whatever, it is a warm, tasty treat for a cool night…or any meal!

A spicy dinner treat!
A spicy dinner treat!

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It really is quite simple to throw together.  And you really don’t need a wok – a regular ol’ pot will do!

The key ingredients:

1/2 pound – ground pork

2  – 8 oz cartons of firm tofu (16 oz total) cut into the size of your big toe (If comparing, wash your toe first.)

2 – tbsp chili paste

1 or 2 – cloves garlic

For braising stock:

1 – cup chicken stock (I used to make my own but too lazy now – it does make a difference!)

3 – tbsp regular soy sauce

2 – tsp sugar

1/2 – tsp salt

Other ingredients:

Green onion

1 – tbsp sesame oil

1 – tsp “rayu” (chili oil)

Corn starch slurry

Ground white pepper to taste (not black pepper)

Key stuff
Key stuff

1. In hot 2 quart sauce pan, drizzle a little oil then brown ground pork over high heat.

2. When browned, quickly add the chili paste and crushed garlic then stir.  Cook until pungent, no more 30 seconds.

Add chili paste and garlic and cook until pungent
Add chili paste and garlic and cook until pungent (30 seconds)

3. Add braising sauce and carefully add cubed and drained tofu.

Carefully add tofu to braising sauce
Carefully add tofu to braising sauce

4. Stir gently then braise maybe ten five minutes, covered, stirring occasionally.

Bring to boil, then cover and braise for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally

5. Remove from heat.  Stir in sesame oil and chili oil (to your liking) and ground white pepper.  Stir in cornstarch slurry to desired thickness.

6. Top off with green onions and serve over rice, ramen or eat it by itself!  Easy!

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Enjoy!