I eat out a lot. Sometimes it’s to regular haunts in my neighbourhood, but often we like to try new places. (Though sometimes the buzz is so ridiculous that I can’t muster up the energy to deal with the crowds — you’d think Toronto was starved for good restaurants or something. And don’t get me started on this new “no reservations” policy, which recently forced me and a friend to shake down restaurants on the Ossington strip, desperately begging for a table like a bunch of suckers.) Aside from the obvious delights of having someone cook and bring you delicious food and not make you wash dishes, eating out is often a goldmine of inspiration for cooking at home.
I used to subscribe to the philosophy of only ordering things that I couldn’t make myself at a restaurant, so I’d wind up with some complicated special instead of just eating that pasta dish I really wanted. Eventually, it occurred to me that I could probably just make some of these things at home, freeing me up to eat whatever I felt like. I began to try replicating in my own kitchen the best of what I experienced when dining out. The cookbook industry has also caught on — see, for example, the more recent trend of cookbooks from chefs who encourage (or dare) home cooks to take on dishes available in their restaurants. Cue also the accompanying spate of Julie and Julia blog ripoffs that chronicle, in painfully exacting detail, individuals primarily failing at cooking their way through the book (though I do have a grudging respect for the brave soul attempting the Alinea Cookbook, because who can really do molecular gastronomy in a regular-ass kitchen?)
Granted, it does take a certain amount of cooking confidence to try to replicate something without a recipe. The key rule is to be willing to fail. If you can manage that (a quality we all know is super-common in lawyers), it’s a fun experiment that I really recommend engaging in. Next time you’re eating something that blows your mind, make some mental notes. What are the key ingredient components? What kind of seasoning is there? How is it cooked? What equipment or special ingredients might you need? It may seem daunting at first, but when you finally get it right, the payoff is worth it.
My most recent triumph was perfecting an at-home version of chicken katsu-don, a comforting Japanese dish that features a crispy, breaded chicken cutlet served over steamed rice with a savoury-sweet mixture of egg and onions and a sprinkle of roasted nori strips. It sounds pretty basic (and it is), but the thought of making it at home was a turnoff. A whole litany of excuses abounded: deep-frying was too messy; I wouldn’t know how to properly marinate the onions; they don’t sell the right breadcrumbs at my grocery store…and so on. The first time I made it, it was a semi-success: I realized I could bread chicken thighs and bake them in the oven and achieve a similarly crispy effect (with way less mess and fat). But the onions were so overseasoned from the marinade that you needed to eat them really sparingly. The second time, out of fear, I underseasoned the onion-egg mixture and wound up adding salt. Third time was a charm: the proportions were right, the textures were in balance, and I added in some chopped kale for a bit more veg (not traditional, but more nutritional). Now, we don’t have to schlep out to a Japanese restaurant every time we want it. And it only takes a little over 30 minutes — making it a great weeknight meal (though you will need to stock your pantry with a few special items).
If you can’t find dashi, you can substitute in fish stock or even regular stock, but the flavour profile will be slightly different. I don’t recommend subbing in regular breadcrumbs for the panko, though — they help create the right crispiness in the chicken. Any special ingredients can usually be found at Japanese or Korean specialty food stores (as well as at some in Chinatown and at T&T), but I’ve seen panko right next to regular breadcrumbs in some grocery stores.
Chicken Katsu-Don
serves 4
8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
salt and pepper
6 eggs, beaten (2 in one bowl, 4 in another)
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups panko (Japanese breadcrumbs)
vegetable oil
1 large onion, sliced in thin rings
3 cups shredded Brussels sprouts, kale, or spinach (optional)
2 large sheets roasted Nori (seaweed), cut into thin strips
1 lemon, cut into wedges
nanami togorashi (optional)
For sauce — stir together:
1 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp rice vinegar
5 tbsp dashi (Japanese fish stock)
1 tsp granulated sugar
Steamed short-grain rice
1. Preheat oven to 400F, line a baking sheet with foil and lightly grease. Put rice on to cook in a rice cooker or pot.
2. Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper. Bread chicken thighs by dredging in flour, then dipping in egg wash of 2 eggs, then coating evenly in panko. Arrange in an even layer on baking sheet and drizzle with some vegetable oil. Bake for 20 minutes. Broil for 2-3 more to get the tops brown and crispy.
3. While chicken is cooking, sauté onions gently in a large, non-stick pan with 2-3 tbsp vegetable oil until the edges begin to brown. If using, add sprouts, kale or spinach and cook with onions until wilted (the spinach will only take a few minutes; allow about 5-7 for the kale or sprouts). Add the sauce and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer until liquid is almost all absorbed. Add the 4-egg mixture and swirl around so the pan is coated evenly, then cover and cook on medium-low heat until eggs are cooked through (3-4 minutes). Remove from heat and keep covered.
4. To serve, dish out rice into four bowls, arrange a large spoonful of egg/onion mixture on top, then slice a chicken thigh into strips and arrange atop the egg mixture. Serve with fresh lemon wedges and garnish with nori strips and sprinkle with nanami togorashi.
Sara Chan is an articling student at a Toronto law firm. Her favourite food group is pork. Sara’s column appears every other Tuesday here on lawandstyle.ca.