Okonomiyaki (Pancakes As-You-Like-Them)
Seeking comfort in cabbage
Last week, I made okonomiyaki for my dad’s 76th birthday while he alternately sang “76 trombones led the big parade” and described the books he’s been reading. Then, we watched the first Blazers game of the season. Making okonomiyaki with a side of miso soup feels very homey and comforting to me, a feeling I’m craving because my world feels unnervingly topsy-turvy. Okonomiyaki has become one of my go-to dishes that mysteriously, no matter how often I make it, still feels special. It retains the power to transport me into memories of my time in Japan when I felt lonely and self-consuming and okonomiyaki was a treat I could disappear into. I love the way this dish has stayed with me over more than a decade, retaining all its lives, first as something excitingly new and now as a conduit to home, dad, basketball, fall, care.
The truth is that the very first time I ever tasted it was at Mt. Tabor Middle School in the science lab, where our overly ambitious teacher, Mr. Bacon, had us cook versions over a bunsen burner. None of us knew how to use a flame to cook anything, or so it seemed when every single okonomiyaki came out burned on the outside and raw and doughy in the center. I remember that I didn’t think the obvious thought—we screwed up this recipe—but a more self-serving one: this dish sucks. But when I think about my first okonomiyaki, I rarely remember that first one in Mr. Bacon’s class. Instead, I think of the Kitano Tenmangu shrine.
On the 25th of every month, a sprawling flea market fills the grounds and adjacent streets of Kitano Tenmangu Shrine in northwest Kyoto. It’s not the most famous flea market in the city, but it was my favorite when I lived there from 2005 to 2006. Stalls are filled with antiques, both nicely cared for and in complete disrepair: reams of paper, scrolls, old swords and knives, kimonos, kokeshi (wooden dolls with movable heads that squeak as they rotate), warm hats and coats, even nylon stockings from a bygone era hanging from plastic coat hangers. It’s a peek into the homes and histories of local residents, laid out on tables in the open air, like secrets spilled for consumption. Some of the stuff is ancient.
The food vendors gather at the entrance of the shrine in a maze without the differentiated façade and back kitchen I know from U.S. markets. Instead, all the cooking is done in front of your eyes, from cauldrons of oden stew to my favorite: the massive griddles of okonomiyaki. Kitano Tenmangu is where I fell in love with okonomiyaki, and watching the cooks is how I learned to make it.
Okonomiyaki originated in the bustling port city of Osaka. It’s one of a host of beloved Japanese foods invented in the nineteenth century. Like some Japanese re-imagination of a Polish cabbage roll, okonomiyaki includes sautéed cabbage, pork belly, egg, and any manner of other desired fillings capped off with smears of tomato-y sauce, mayonnaise, seaweed flakes and dried tuna shavings that dance over the top in the steam like spirits. Okonomiyaki are endlessly malleable (the name means “pancakes as you like them”), and in that spirit I have made my own small adaptation: I add to the cabbage any greens that are in season, from collards and kale in the winter to pea shoots in the spring.
In the Kansai region, where okonomiyaki was invented and where I lived (Kyoto, Osaka, and Kobe are all within Kansai), the ingredients are all mixed together and cooked as one mass. Many regions have their own adaptations, but I think the Kansai version is the easiest to make. I like to eat it with rice and miso soup.
Perhaps the most famous version of okonomiyaki comes from Hiroshima. One of the most powerful experiences of my time in Japan was going to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. We sat down and listened to a hibakusha, an atomic bomb survivor, tell her story of living through a reality inseparable from nightmare. She ended by asking us to keep the memory of Hiroshima alive, to tell our friends at home, and to fight for a de-nuclearized world. She awoke in me the fear that my generation is asleep to the nuclear threat.
Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki began as a simple pre-war snack cooked on a griddle with just a few ingredients—onions and dried shrimp—held together in a flour-and-water batter and smeared in tangy sauce. (No cabbage involved, which I think of as the main substance of okonomiyaki.) In the aftermath of World War II, women working partially out of their kitchens and street vendors with simple setups adapted okonomiyaki to better feed survivors. They added heartier ingredients including noodles, cabbage, eggs, and meat, making a more nutritious and filling one-dish meal. The dish as we know it was refined in the context of extreme scarcity and desperation.
The Hiroshima style is cooked in layers rather than mixed together. The foundation is a simple batter of flour and water. Other ingredients get piled in distinct layers on top, but the actual making of it feels more like a patty-cake game: Every time you cook a new layer, you slap it onto the one before, back and forth between two skillets until you have a tower of crepe, cabbage, pork belly, yakisoba noodles, egg, and more. It’s glorious.
I love to make okonomiyaki mostly because I love to eat okonomiyaki. Making okonomiyaki is as simple as making a pancake batter, chopping vegetables, and attending to a griddle. I’m including my recipes for both Kansai- and Hiroshima-style versions below, as well as variations within both. Take a lesson from 13-year-old me in the science lab with a flimsy bunsen burner and too much batter: Cook these low and slow, covered, until the exterior is stunningly golden and the inside is custardy!
My business, Umi Organic, has a brand new sauce in a bottle on the market—Umi yakisoba sauce—and I’ve been using it to season okonomiyaki. It works perfectly! The other toppings are niche Japanese. For people in Portland, you can pick them up from my friends Kana and Eric of Fulamingo, who do home delivery and also have a spot inside Wellspent Market.
Okonomiyaki has been one of my longtime companions. We’ve known each other for so long, through so many eras of my life. I feel that distinct sensation of being both small and infinite when I think of all the other people through time who’ve loved this dish, too.
Kansai-style Okonomiyaki (Cabbage and Pork Belly Pancakes)
Makes 4 pancakes / 4 to 6 servings
I am offering two different batter recipes for the Kansai version. Choose either. If you have access to an Asian market with long potato called nagaimo, buy one and try it out. It is a really strange creature that adds lightness and fluffiness to the final pancakes. These tubers grow long underground and have poky little hairs on the outside. The flesh is extremely slippery (dare I say slimy), so your best course of action is to not peel away all the skin, leaving yourself a place to hold onto while you grate.
Batter 1
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking power
2-1/2 cups water or dashi
or
Batter 2
1-3/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
2-1/4 cups water or dashi
2 to 3 inches long potato called nagaimo, peeled and grated with a or on the smaller setting of your box grater
Filling
1 pound green or savoy cabbage, cored, stems removed, and leaves shredded as finely as you can with a sharp knife or mandolin
2 to 3 stalks green onion, finely chopped
5 eggs
4 tablespoons sesame oil
1/2 pound thinly sliced uncured pork belly, pancetta, or bacon, cut in half
Optional add-ins – choose only 2 or 3 at a time
1 cup sliced collards, kale or other hearty greens
1/4 pound shrimp, shelled and deveined or squid, cleaned and chopped
1/2 cup kimchi, chopped
Extra green onions, chopped
2 tablespoons beni-shoga, pickled julienned pink ginger
1/2 cup grated mozzarella
1/2 cup corn kernels
1/2 cup tempera scraps called tenkasu
Handful shiso leaves, julienned
Handful chives
Handful bean sprouts, blanched in salted water and drained
Toppings
Umi yakisoba sauce or store-bought okonomiyaki sauce
Mayonnaise (ideally Kewpie mayo in a squeeze bottle)
Aonori (powdered seaweed)
Katsuobushi (dried shaved fermented tuna)
Directions:
Mix together the ingredients for batter 1 or batter 2 in a large bowl. Cover and set in the refrigerator while you prep all the remaining ingredients.
Add the cabbage, green onion, and any optional add-ons to the batter mixture and mix well until thoroughly coated. Add the eggs and mix gently until just combined.
Preheat a nonstick or cast-iron skillet for at least 5 minutes on medium low heat. Add 1 tablespoon of sesame oil, make sure entire surface is coated. Spoon one-fourth of the cabbage batter into skillet to form a pancake about 6 inches in diameter and 1 inch thick. Don’t push down. Gently lay one-forth of the pork belly slices on top of pancake. Try not to overlap. Cover and cook for about 5 minutes. Using a long spatula, carefully flip the pancake so the pork belly side is now facing down. Gently press on the pancake, but not hard. Cover and cook about 5 more minutes. Uncover then flip again. Cook for about 2 minutes more. When it’s done it should be golden on both sides.
Transfer to a plate, pork side up, and add toppings. First, smear about 1/4 cup Umi yakisoba or okonomiyaki sauce evenly across the top. Squeeze on the mayonnaise in long thin ribbons (or you can make mayonnaise art!*). Sprinkle 1 tablespoon aonori over everything, and lastly, sprinkle a small handful of shaved bonito flakes. Cut the okonomiyaki into quarters and serve immediately. Repeat with remaining batter.
Hiroshima-style Okonomiyaki
Makes 4 pancakes / 4 servings
12 ounces Umi Organic fresh ramen noodles
3 tablespoons peanut or sunflower oil, divided
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup water or dashi
2 cups finely chopped cabbage, collards, kale, and/or other greens for sautéing
1/2 cup diced green onion
12 pieces thinly sliced uncured pork belly, pancetta, or bacon, cut in half
4 tablespoons Umi yakisoba sauce or store-bought okonomiyaki sauce
Toppings
Umi yakisoba sauce or store-bought okonomiyaki sauce
Mayonnaise (ideally Kewpie mayo in a squeeze bottle)
Aonori (powdered seaweed)
Katsuobushi (dried shaved fermented tuna)
Directions:
Bring a large pot of water to a rapid boil. Gently pull apart and fluff noodles. Add noodles to water and boil 2 minutes, stirring often. Drain, rinse under cold water until fully chilled, and then shake out excess water. Toss with 1 tablespoon oil and set aside. Can be made up to 12 hours in advance and kept in the refrigerator.
In a medium bowl, mix flour and water or dashi to make a smooth batter. Heat a large griddle or two large skillets over medium heat. Add 1 teaspoon of oil to one side of the griddle or one skillet and swirl to cover surface. Spread a scoop of the batter (approximate 1/3 cup) into a thin circle about 6 inches wide. Place a handful of cabbage (approximately 1/2 cup) on top of the batter. Place 3 slices of pork on top of the cabbage. Drizzle some batter (no more than a few tablespoons) over the ingredients. After two minutes, flip over the okonomiyaki with two spatulas. Turn the heat to low. Cook until pork is crispy and cabbage is soft, about 4 minutes.
Meanwhile, add 1 teaspoon of oil to the opposite side of the griddle or the second skillet. Add one quarter of the noodles and green onions. Pan fry until the noodles begin to turn crispy, approximately 4 minutes. Season lightly with okonomiyaki sauce (about 1 tablespoon or to taste). Shape noodles into a circle about the same size as the okonomiyaki. Lift okonomiyaki with spatulas, place on top of noodles with batter side facing up, and press on the top firmly.
On the now empty half of the griddle or in the empty skillet, crack an egg, break the yolk with spatula, and spread out egg to the same shape as the okonomiyaki. Place the okonomiyaki on top of the fried egg, batter side still up, and again press on the top firmly.
With two spatulas, remove okonomiyaki from the pan and flip onto a cutting board with the egg side up. Brush a thick layer of Umi yakisoba sauce or okonomiyaki sauce across the surface, squeeze mayonnaise liberally over the top, dust aonori over the top, and finish with a handful of katsuobushi. Either serve one okonomiyaki per person or slice into quarters like pizza and eat in rounds. Repeat this process 3 times until you've used all your ingredients.
How to Decorate Your Okonomiyaki in a Fancy Way
If you want to try your hand at some very fancy mayonnaise work, you'll need to use Kewpie mayonnaise in a squeeze bottle (or place mayonnaise in a squeeze bottle or bag with a frosting tip).
After brushing on okonomiyaki sauce, squeeze a thin, straight line of mayonnaise horizontally across the top of the okonomiyaki and then curl back, like a switchback on a steep trail, half an inch below. Move the line in the opposite direction. Continue working down the okonomiyaki, back in forth, until you reach the bottom. Stop the flow of mayonnaise. Using a pointy chopstick, drag a line through the mayonnaise from the top to the bottom on the far-left side. Repeat, this time going from the bottom to the top, half an inch toward the center. Continue alternating from top to bottom then bottom to top in evenly spaced lines until you reach the opposite side. The mayonnaise should have a nice marbled effect like a turtle brownie.
I remember eating Okonimiyaki when I visited Jeff and Jason in Tokyo in 2003. So good! Excited to try making these at home.
Happy Birthday to David!
I love this piece, Lola! And if you were closer, I would hire you to come cook for a few friends!
And I will give it a try myself!