Asian Flavor Invasions

June 2005

Asian Flavor Invasions

By John Matchuk, C.R.C., C.C.C, C.C.E.

Our American plates and palates have benefited from the many taste and flavor invasions of world cuisines: French, Italian, Mexican, Thai, Indian, Chinese and Japanese. Certain upscale restaurants have always used unique ingredients to heighten their own signature while pursuing the next flavor trend. Two current examples that highlight the increasingly popular Asian yuzu fruit are Rick Tramonto's yuzu vinaigrette at Chicago's TRU, and Tomas Keller's yuzu-fruit geleés at The French Laundry in Yountville, CA in the heart of Napa Valley.

Those of us on "the dark side" of food-product development need these free-spirited, creative chefs to see anew how ingredients and flavors both fuse and cross traditional boundaries. But we still need the purists to delineate the exact culinary accuracy of a region or a dish akin to what Rick Bayless has done with Mexican foods.

Returning to our invaders: the popularity of Italian and Mexican foods in the United States cannot be disputed. Other cuisines have specific strengths or niches that have endeared -- or typecast -- them to Americans. For example, Germans use specific sour flavors, Poles and Danes go rich and buttery, and the Spanish differentiate with their interesting salt use. However, Asian cuisines, such as Japanese, Thai and Indian, have been making strong in-roads to American cuisine and product development. Even the lesser-known Balti style of cooking holds potential for American audiences.

Japanese flavor keys The foods and flavors of Japan have found an eager audience in the United States. Perhaps The Vapors said it best when it comes to the popularity of Japanese food: "You've got me turning up and turning down and turning in and turning 'round, I'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so."

Japanese restaurants are indeed very successful in the United States. Japanese food theater, "The Iron Chef," provides many with entertainment, food ideas and a popular forum for mystery-basket competition. Japanese ingredients, panko, wasabi, miso, sake and mirin, are popular and found in many kitchens. Even yuzu, a tangerine-sized citrus fruit, with its tart, bitter juice and fragrant rind, is getting more play these days. Maybe we will soon see more miso, okonomiyaki (savory pancake), tonkatsu (deep-fried pork), and sashimi courses joining the teriyaki chicken on restaurant and home-consumer tables. In all likelihood, these items could be manufactured, or at least prepared to a level of accessible speed-scratch friendliness to help facilitate a Japanese home-cooking renaissance.

Obviously the market will decide, and hopefully the marketplace will be ready. The cuisine's focus on seafood items has partially contributed to consumer hesitancy when it comes to home preparation. Neither fermentation nor soy adds to the market cachet of Japanese cuisine as a whole for those in practically every state, bar one or two. For example, Hawaii, with its plate lunches, seafood aplenty, tropical fruits and plenty of demand, is truly a Pan-Asian fusion paradise and can be considered an advance base for a Japanese cuisine invasion.

One noteworthy ingredient -- relatively unknown outside of Japan -- sudachi, is a small citrus fruit similar to yuzu, but it is used in summer and autumn when still green for its sharp juice and fragrant zest. This fruit garnishes many traditional Japanese dishes, including fish, soba or udon noodles, and nabe (similar to stew), as well as some alcoholic beverages. It is considered to have a zestier flavor and aroma than lemons or limes and boasts a higher calcium and vitamin C content than lemons. Sudachi-flavored products, such as ice cream, vodka coolers, popsicles, juices and soft drinks, can be found in Japan. Sudachi is also way cool.

When in Montreal for the recent Research Chefs Association conference, I showed a sudachi flavor as topical syrup on a grape. Everyone knows what grapes taste like, but few have tasted yuzu and fewer still sudachi. I took wicked pleasure viewing each taster putting the grape in their mouth and then trying to figure out what they were tasting as the sudachi mingles several flavors at once: citrus hints of lemon, grapefruit and mandarin -- even pear and green notes. It is almost a chameleon flavor that takes on whatever flavors are suggested.

Japan's foods are easily accessed, first through teriyaki, then sukiyaki and tempura, and finally sushi and sashimi -- at least that's the way it happens for many of us. However, the foods of Japan are much richer in scope than the dishes or versions that have crossed over so far. For example, special restaurants with individual styles (Tokyo or Hiroshima) just serve okonomiyaki, a cross between an omelet and a crepe. Tonkatsu, invented in the 1930s, is one of the most-popular dishes in Japan and consists of a breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet generally served with shredded cabbage, white rice and miso soup. It is eaten with a brown sauce, the ingredients of which vary from place to place, that has a taste close to a sweet Worcestershire sauce or a nonsmoke, low-tomato barbecue sauce. Some people like to eat their tonkatsu with spicy yellow mustard.

The Zen of ramen The Japanese ramen noodle soup found in packages in practically every American food market -- the lifeblood of college students and one of the most-inexpensive packaged foods in North America -- has little in common with the wonderful soups made to order in authentic noodle shops. The term "ramen" refers to both the egg noodles made from wheat and the soups that highlight them as an ingredient. However, in Japan, the term is almost always generally used to reference the soups.

Many ramen styles are available, including: shoyu (soy-sauce-based), with brown, transparent characteristics; miso-based, with a brown, opaque appearance; and shio (salt-based), with a transparent look; and tonkatsu (pork-based), a white and milky soup. Some ramen dishes use a specific garnish, such as chashumen (pork ramen), tanmen (vegetable ramen) and wonton ramen (with small Chinese dumplings).

Seeing a four-seat restaurant in the Tokyo subway with commuters quickly slurping down what is one of the healthiest fast foods ever created is a revelation. Soup chains have struggled in North America, but large, steaming bowls of tonkatsu ramen garnished with baby clams, eggs, shrimp and vegetables could do a lot to make soup the center of the meal in any weather.

The scope of Japanese noodles is large and wonderful. Soba noodles, made from buckwheat, are my favorite for their texture and buckwheat flavor. When in Japan recently, I went to a restaurant that only made the soba once they were ordered. Their specialty was tonkatsu served with shredded cabbage (they raised their own special hogs, a Berkshire breed or similar).

One point of interest for this dish is that the cabbage used in Japan is a slightly different from our familiar green cabbage. The head is more oblong than round, and the flavor is sweeter, which when eaten raw by itself, rather than cooked or in coleslaw, makes it more palatable. (I saw a green cabbage hybrid at a New York State farmers' market called "Super Sweet" that reminded me of the Japanese cabbage.) A sauce or sauces are provided to flavor the shredded cabbage, usually a sesame dressing and perhaps (surprise!) Thousand Island.

Other noodle options include udon, thicker noodles made from wheat; somen, thin, wheat noodles generally served cold; and yakisoba, deep-fried Chinese noodles often served with vegetables, meat and ginger.

Enthralled with Balti Another potential new invader is Balti cuisine, which has proven popular in both British Balti and Indian restaurants. Many Indian restaurants menued Balti-style curry well before its widespread popularity in the United Kingdom. However, they typically didn't refer to the curry as "Balti," but rather as "korai" or "karahi," which, like Balti, also refer to the pan used for cooking.

This style of cooking centers around a cast-iron pot called a Balti, korai or karahi. Today's version is typically a half-hemispherical pot made of steel or iron. Operators might present the finished meal in the Balti pot, typically served with naan, a thin, leavened bread similar to pita.

Balti cooking originated in the mountainous Himalayan region of Pakistan and Kashmir in a region known as "Baltistan." Whole spices are roasted and ground to create aromatic spice mixtures, combined with fresh herbs like coriander, fenugreek and mint, to give the Balti food its distinctive taste. Balti curry, known for its fresh, green characteristics, might include cilantro, mint, oil (typically vegetable), fenugreek, turmeric, vinegar and garlic. However, Balti cuisine encompasses more than one particular type of curry.

Balti curries differ from Indian or Thai curries due to their large percentage of "green" or fresh components. The herbs are often infused into the oil and then added to the roasted spices, frequently along with vinegar. The result yields an interesting profile. Birmingham, England, in the West Midlands, is a sort of epicenter for Balti cuisine. Balti prawns have become a phenomenon in Great Britain. The flavor profile of Balti curry with the taste and texture of shrimp and basmati rice are indeed magical. Its profile works well with tomato-based sauces. I developed a Balti curry pizza sauce several years ago which unfortunately is still waiting for the Hut's or the dotted game piece's interest.

Epicurean Indian In Indian curry, where roasted spices play a large role, the ingredients might include chiles, cardamom, fenugreek, turmeric, cumin, cinnamon, allspice, bay and ginger. These curries are often balanced with fruit components or chutney. Americans have been exposed to Indian curries for many years, spread originally by the British and their empire. Sometimes, the evolution of a dish would occur in roundabout ways.

For example, the Portuguese dish vinha d'alhos results from marinating pork in wine vinegar and garlic ("vinho" translates as wine and "alhos" means garlic). In India, it was spiced up, including added heat and garlic, and otherwise changed by people living in Goa, a former Portuguese colony. Eventually, those people changed the name of the dish to "vindaloo." The vinegar brings out the flavors and heat inherent in vindaloo.

The French, responding to British and Dutch influences, took curry out of its Indian context and regimented it -- much like Americans -- by creating curry powders, which they use to accent sauces or soups.

Over time, Germans have also adopted the curry flavor profile. For example, they have adapted curry profiles into popular dishes and products, including ketchup.

Inside Thai Thai curries became popular over the past 15 years with different flavors inspired by different ingredients and cooking styles. They highlight use of fresh chiles and might include onions, garlic, galangal, coconut, shrimp paste, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaf, cilantro and cloves while ranging from green to red to brownish-red. Typically, Thai curries are very hot.

When I went back to school at Cornell University in Ithaca, NY, I worked in a Thai restaurant run by a Thai family. They offered six degrees of heat for their food and their curries: mild, medium (already hot for most), hot, Bangkok hot ("Are you sure that you want that Bangkok hot?"), "Jumping Hot" (which they enjoyed themselves; I tried it once and besides jumping I broke into an immediate sweat) and "not come back hot" -- never served, but I am sure it would have had guaranteed results.

Thai curries primarily come in four different styles: green, red, masaman (a blend of hot and sour, possibly influenced by early Portuguese traders and usually served with beef) and penaeng (a "dry" curry paste, possibly originally from Malaysia, that can be prepared with any meat and many seafood items). The only real difference between green-curry paste and red-curry paste is that the green is made from fresh, green bird chiles, and the red is made from dried, red chiles. Some also have a tomato component. Tomato products can provide or enhance that color difference while providing a tempering umami layer of flavor.

The scope of Thai curries is amazing, and much can be done to vary the curry-paste ingredients, such as adding or subtracting chiles or chili powder to augment intensity. One of the main differences in execution between Thai and Indian curries is the use of coconut milk in Thailand as both a base and a foil for the intense heat (capsicum level) of the finished curry.

But more exceptions than rules exist when it comes to curry. Crossroads cuisines often spread ingredients and techniques. For example, some Indian curries also use coconut milk.

Translating the flavor Which flavor, aroma or nuance helps capture a dish's character? The counterpoint, or fusion aspect of Asian food-product development, is: Are there Asian flavors that could be inserted into an existing product to provide a new and desirable variation?

Of course there are, and this is where our new pantry of Asian ingredients should not force fusion to become confusion. Can we use a Thai bird chile in a salsa? Would fenugreek enhance the meatloaf? Yes and yes -- and yes, it will also enhance maple syrup.

When developing products capitalizing on an Asian ingredient, keep good, common development sense in the forefront: there can be too much of a good thing. There are white-tablecloth chefs who are known for the complexity of both their techniques and their ingredients. This is a slippery slope, which requires absolute mastery of the dish's execution. Sometimes, the chefs do not achieve that fragile balance, and the guest will struggle with what the chef had hoped to achieve with the dish.

Learn well from this scenario. Minimalism, simplicity and honesty in ingredient use and truth in menu are watchwords in most successful foodservice operations. These issues become amplified when dealing with commercial batch sizes and the exposure that they represent.

As developers, regardless of the food item or cuisine involved, we face questions concerning many, if not all, of the following variables: price margin, cost, flavor, texture, shelf life, color and other organoleptic issues. For any ethnic dish, success will hinge on helping its character make it through the product-development process. For Indian, spices seem irreplaceable. For Thai, is it the chiles, the cilantro or the galangal that are the must-haves?

Going back to yuzu, the juice might not provide the desired notes -- the juice is very acidic and bitter -- but the zest yields a wonderful aroma and flavor. Is that our next vinaigrette? What about ice cream? Is North America ready for yuzu -- for both the flavor and the name? Will lemongrass flavor provide a new nuance to a dish that used lemon juice or zest? Do we then call it "lemongrass flavored" or just "new and improved"? Will galangal provide signature as a ginger replacement?

Nomenclature becomes an issue in either food manufacturing or foodservice. I mentioned truth in menu -- this is both a touchstone and a policy that all good chefs practice. However, it sometimes can become tiresome with today's tendencies to list all the wheres and the whats -- Maine diver scallops grabbed by George, Newman Ranch lamb fed by Henry, Okmulgee County organic Oklahoma okra, etc.

When it comes to introducing Asian ingredients to a Western audience on menus and product labels, some glimpses of authenticity might serve product developers well. However, exhaustive disclosures of ingredients in menu-item descriptions and on product labels, however well intended, can sometimes lead to alienation and confusion. Selective, honest revelations can often prove a more-prudent path.

In food manufacturing, nomenclature brings up new issues -- especially when an exotic Asian dish or ingredient is considered. Will we tell, or perhaps more contextually, should we tell the consumer that this new gingersnap cookie is made with galangal? It tastes better, smells better; the other attributes are all equal or improved over the previous version. Do we need to educate the consumer about this type of ginger and its attributes, or should we just call them gingersnaps and let them enjoy them? Obviously, we are not going to falsify our ingredient declaration, but I would always rather be roughly right than precisely wrong when I have a choice.

Food-product marketers and designers struggle with all of these questions. Out of context, the answers might be difficult and/or ambiguous. The answers might be as simple as applying Culinology(TM). What designers, project managers and their companies seek are balance between "blue skies" and 42-day fresh shelf life with a dash of loss prevention. This is where sensory science, purchasing, and a modicum of perspective can -- and should -- come together to provide realistic answers to these hanging questions:

· Sensory with culinary sensitivity adds a qualitative aspect to the organoleptic.

· Purchasing with a chef's pickiness gets the best peanut oil or Thai basil that a budget can afford.

· Taste, smell, mouthfeel and visual aspects (presentation) need to be part of everyone's perspective and responsibility.

· Truth in menu and in advertising should allow the customer to understand exactly what they are tasting.

The end user -- the consumer -- has the final say as to whether an Asian product was successful. When everyone remembers and uses that criterion as the touchstone, there will be no problems adapting to a new, unique, Asian ingredient, or meeting consumer expectations.  

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