Vegetarian Japanese recipes

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Jaga bataSteamed potatoes with butter and soy

Jaga bata is Hokkaido's simplest pleasure: whole steamed potatoes split open and topped with a slab of butter and a few drops of soy sauce, sold at Sapporo snow-festival stalls and summer street fairs, and made at home as a snack or side. The potato is floury and steaming, the butter melts into it, and the soy adds a savoury edge. The mistake is boiling the potatoes, which makes them watery so the butter slides off; steam them in their skins instead. Chef's tip: cut a deep cross into each hot potato and squeeze from the bottom so it bursts open like a flower to hold the butter.

25 min

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Japanese hotcakes

Hotcakes are the tall, perfectly round pancakes of Japanese kissaten coffee shops and Sunday family breakfasts, and many children ask for them as an after-school treat too. They are thicker and more cake-like than Western pancakes, with an even golden surface and a soft, springy crumb. This batter is only lightly sweetened, so the butter and syrup on top do the work. It contains gluten, milk and egg. Chef's tip: cook them over a low heat with a lid on, so they rise high and cook through before the outside darkens.

30 min

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Kuri manjuChestnut buns

Made to look like a chestnut, kuri manju (栗まんじゅう) is one of Japan's favourite baked wagashi, a little teardrop of tender, cake-like dough wrapped around sweet white bean paste studded with candied chestnut. The top is glazed twice with egg yolk until it bakes a glossy chestnut brown, and the flat base is dipped in poppy seeds to mimic the pale bottom of a real chestnut. Japanese confectioners sell them all year, but they are most popular in autumn, given as gifts and eaten with green tea. Freshly baked, the dough is slightly firm; after a day in a tin the moisture from the filling softens it, so they are even better the next day. Glazing only once is an easy mistake: the first coat soaks in and looks patchy, so brush, bake briefly and brush again. Chef's tip: dust your hands well with flour as you wrap; this dough is soft and sticky, and handling it with floured fingers is the only way to keep the shell thin and even.

85 min

Japanese Breads & Parathas

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Shio pan

Shio pan (塩パン) began in 2003 at a small bakery in Yawatahama, a port town on the Ehime coast of Shikoku, and spread so fast that most Japanese bakeries now sell their own, as do the 'sogeum-ppang' shops of Seoul. Each roll is wound around a stick of cold butter; in the oven the butter melts out and fries the base, leaving a crisp, salty, golden bottom, a hollow, buttery tunnel inside and soft, chewy bread on top, finished with flaky salt. Eat them warm for breakfast with coffee, or split them for an egg or cucumber sandwich. Proving them somewhere too warm is the classic misstep: above about 28°C the butter leaks out before baking and the rolls lose their crunch. Chef's tip: leave the rolls on the tray for a couple of minutes after baking so they soak the melted butter back up into their bases.

165 min

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Kutakuta udon (soft-simmered baby udon)

Japanese parents call this kutakuta udon, 'floppy udon': thick wheat noodles simmered far longer than usual until they are soft enough to squash between two fingers, then chopped short for babies who are learning to chew, usually from around seven to nine months. The broth is a light kombu stock with sweet grated carrot and daikon and no soy sauce at all, so it tastes gentle and clean. It contains gluten (wheat); the other common allergens (milk, egg, peanut, tree nuts, soya, sesame, fish) are not in it. Chef's tip: kombu is rich in iodine, so use only a small piece, soak it briefly and lift it out before the broth boils.

25 min

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Ninjin shirishiri (Okinawan carrot and egg)

In Okinawa, at the southern tip of Japan, ninjin shirishiri is what home cooks make when there is a bag of carrots and a lunchbox to fill. The carrots are grated into fine ribbons on a shirishiri grater, softened in sesame oil and bound with a scrambled egg and a splash of kombu dashi, so they taste sweet and mild enough for small children. It is served warm at dinner and cold in the next day's bento. It contains egg, soya and wheat (soy sauce) and sesame. Chef's tip: cook the carrot until it turns limp and glossy before the egg goes in; that is where its sweetness comes from.

15 min

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Nyumen (hot somen for toddlers)

Nyumen is the hot, winter way of eating thin somen noodles, loved in Nara and across the Kansai region, and with its gentle broth it is a classic supper for small children and anyone feeling poorly. Fine noodles, soft carrot and spinach and silky ribbons of egg sit in a light stock of kombu and dried shiitake, seasoned for toddlers with only a few drops of low-salt soy sauce. It contains gluten (wheat), egg and soya. Chef's tip: somen dough is salted, so always boil and rinse the noodles separately rather than cooking them in the broth.

25 min

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Imo mochi (Hokkaido potato mochi)

On Hokkaido, Japan's great potato island, imo mochi are what grandparents make from leftover boiled potatoes when the children come in from school or the ski slopes. Mashed potato is kneaded with potato starch into a smooth, stretchy dough, shaped into thick discs and fried until crisp outside and pleasantly chewy within, then glazed in a little butter, soy and sugar. A cube of cheese hidden inside is a popular children's twist. It contains milk, soya and gluten (soy sauce). Chef's tip: mash the potatoes while they are still hot; cold potato turns gluey and the patties crack.

35 min

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Daigaku imo (candied sweet potato)

Daigaku imo, 'university potatoes', got their name from the Tokyo student cafés of the early 1900s, and today they are what Japanese parents fry when autumn sweet potatoes arrive and children come home hungry. The chunks are crisp at the edges and fluffy inside, coated in a glossy glaze that sets to a light crackle, with nutty black sesame on top. This version uses a modest amount of sugar balanced with soy sauce. It contains soya, gluten (soy sauce) and sesame. Chef's tip: pull the pan off the heat the moment the glaze turns thick and bubbly; a few seconds more and it hardens into toffee.

30 min

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Issho mochi (first-birthday rice cake)

In homes all over Japan, a child's first birthday is marked with issho mochi: a single large, round rice cake made from about 1.8 kg of glutinous rice, wrapped in a cloth and strapped to the baby's back. Whether the toddler stands, crawls or plops down laughing, the family cheers, and the mochi is then cut up, grilled and shared by the adults and older children as a wish for a lifetime of plenty. This home version uses glutinous rice flour, so no pounding is needed, and it is free of milk, egg, gluten, nuts and soya. Sticky mochi is a choking risk: the baby only carries it, adults and older children eat it, and small children should only have tiny, soft pieces while an adult watches. Chef's tip: write the child's name on the cloth bundle, not on the cake, so the mochi stays plain and everyone can eat it.

60 min

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Character bento (kyaraben)

All over Japan, parents of nursery and primary-school children make kyaraben, 'character bento', for school trips, sports days and the first lunches of term: rice is pressed into a little bear, nori is snipped into eyes and a smile, and the gaps are filled with omelette, broccoli and tomato. It is mild and simply seasoned, eaten cold at room temperature by midday, and the fun is in the opening of the lid. Many families add a cut-out sausage or a piece of fried chicken; this version keeps it vegetarian. Chef's tip: cut the nori features first and keep them on a dry plate, then press them on with a damp chopstick at the very end so they don't curl.

55 min

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Fruit sando

Japanese fruit sandwiches started in the fruit parlours of Tokyo and are now sold in every convenience store, but they are just as much a home treat for a sunny weekend or a special after-school snack. Pillowy crustless bread holds a thick layer of barely sweetened whipped cream and whole pieces of fruit arranged so that each cut reveals a neat pattern. It contains gluten and milk (and often egg, in milk bread). Chef's tip: plan the cut before you arrange the fruit, laying the strawberries along the diagonal line you will slice through.

20 min

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Ten-fold rice porridge (jūbai-gayu)

Across Japan, a baby's first solid food at about five or six months is jūbai-gayu: rice cooked gently in ten times its volume of water until it collapses into a soft, pale porridge, then pressed or blended smooth. It tastes mild and slightly sweet, and parents start with a single spoonful a day before adding mashed vegetables such as pumpkin or carrot. None of the common allergens (milk, egg, gluten, peanut, tree nuts, soya, sesame, fish) are in it, so it is an easy base to build on. Chef's tip: make a full pot and freeze it in ice-cube trays, so one cube can be warmed for each meal.

85 min

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Sweet potato simmered with lemon (satsumaimo no lemon-ni)

Satsumaimo no lemon-ni is an autumn favourite in Japanese homes, when sweet potatoes are at their best and bento boxes need a splash of colour. Rounds of purple-skinned sweet potato are gently poached with lemon slices and just a spoonful of sugar until tender and glossy, tasting of honeyed potato with a fresh citrus edge. It is eaten cold, so it is a natural make-ahead for packed lunches, and it contains none of the common allergens. Chef's tip: keep the skins on; the purple ring against the yellow flesh is what makes it look so pretty in a box.

30 min

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Onigirazu with omelette and cucumber

Onigirazu, 'rice balls you don't have to shape', took off in Japanese homes as a quicker way to fill a school bento: a sheet of nori is folded around a flat square of rice and filling like an envelope, wrapped tightly and sliced through the middle. Children love the stripes of yellow omelette and green lettuce and cucumber, and it eats neatly with one hand at lunch or on a picnic. Ham, tuna mayonnaise and fried chicken are popular fillings too; this version is vegetarian. It contains egg, and the mayonnaise is egg-based. Chef's tip: cut through the cling film with a wet, sharp knife and only unwrap after slicing, so the sandwich keeps its shape.

23 min

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Hina arare (Girls' Day rice puffs)

On 3 March, Japanese families with daughters set out tiered dolls for Hinamatsuri and fill little bowls with hina arare, crunchy pastel rice puffs whose pink, green and white stand for spring blossom, new leaves and snow. In the Kanto region they are sweet; around Kyoto and Osaka they are bigger and soy-glazed, so this version makes both. Puffing cooked rice at home is easy and children love watching it bloom in the oil. It contains soya and gluten (from the soy sauce) and is otherwise free of the common allergens. Chef's tip: dry the cooked rice until every grain is hard and glassy; damp rice spits and never puffs.

45 min

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Japanese strawberry shortcake

In Japan, the 'shortcake' on every birthday table and every Christmas Eve is nothing like the American scone version: it is a tall, cloud-soft sponge filled and covered with lightly sweetened cream and crowned with a ring of strawberries. Children choose it at the cake shop for their birthday, and it is just as good made at home. It contains egg, milk and gluten. Chef's tip: brush each sponge layer with a little plain sugar syrup; it keeps the cake moist without any alcohol.

70 min

Japanese Breads & Parathas

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Anpan

Tokyo's Ginza district gave Japan its first sweet bun in 1874, when a bakery there wrapped Western-style bread dough around azuki bean paste, the filling of traditional wagashi; a version topped with a salted cherry blossom was presented to the Emperor Meiji the following year. Anpan (あんパン) is still sold in every Japanese bakery and convenience store, eaten with green tea or milk as an afternoon snack and packed in school bags. The bread is soft, faintly sweet and shiny brown, wrapped round a thick layer of smooth, earthy-sweet red bean paste, with sesame seeds or a pink blossom pressed into a dimple on top. A paste that is too soft is the usual cause of trouble: it oozes out of the seam and leaves a hollow bun, so use a stiff koshian you can roll into balls. Chef's tip: roll the filling into balls and freeze them for 15 minutes before wrapping; firm balls are far easier to enclose neatly and keep the dough an even thickness all round.

164 min

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KakitamajiruEgg drop soup

When the miso pot is empty, or someone in a Japanese home is feeling poorly, kakitamajiru is the soup that comes out: a clear, gently seasoned dashi thickened very slightly with potato starch so that a stream of beaten egg sets into soft, floating ribbons. It is served in lacquer bowls alongside rice and a main dish at an ordinary dinner anywhere in Japan. This version uses vegetarian kombu-shiitake dashi. Eggs are an allergen. A bowl is about 55 kcal. The most common mistake is pouring the egg into soup that is not quite boiling, which makes it cloudy; the broth must be bubbling when the egg goes in. Chef's tip: pour the egg through the tines of a fork in a thin stream, moving round the pan; it gives the finest, fluffiest strands.

17 min

Japanese Soups

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Nasu no nibitashiAubergine in cold dashi

On a sticky summer evening in Osaka or Tokyo, a chilled dish of nibitashi is one of the nicest things to find in the fridge: Japanese eggplant cut into pieces, cooked in a little oil until silky, then left to soak in cold, lightly sweet soy dashi with grated ginger. It is served cool beside rice and grilled fish or tofu. This version uses vegetarian kombu-shiitake dashi. A portion is about 80 kcal. The most common mistake is frying the eggplant in lots of oil; it drinks it all up and turns heavy. Brush it lightly and cook it covered so it steams soft. Chef's tip: score the skin in fine diagonal lines before cooking; the broth soaks in faster and the purple skin stays bright.

25 min

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Satoimo no nikkorogashiGlazed simmered taro

Satoimo, small hairy taro, are dug in autumn across the farmland of Chiba and Saitama, and nikkorogashi, "simmered and rolled", is the most homely way to eat them: the peeled taro are simmered in a little dashi, sugar and soy, then rolled around the pan as the liquid boils down until each one is coated in a sticky, glossy glaze. The inside stays creamy and slightly slippery. This version uses vegetarian kombu-shiitake dashi. A portion is about 130 kcal. The common mistake is not rinsing off the sliminess after peeling, which makes the sauce gloopy; rub them with salt and rinse well. Chef's tip: peel taro with dry hands, or wear gloves; the raw sap can make skin itch.

40 min

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Tofu steak

Tofu steak became a family-restaurant and home favourite across Japan in the health-food boom of the 1980s, and it is still how many Tokyo households get a quick, light main dish on the table: thick slabs of firm tofu dusted with potato starch, seared until golden, then glazed in a garlicky soy, mirin and sugar sauce until sticky. Serve with rice, shredded cabbage and miso soup. A portion is about 260 kcal. The common mistake is skipping the pressing, so the tofu spits in the pan and won't brown; press it for 10 minutes first. Chef's tip: add the sauce only once both sides are golden, and let it bubble down for just a minute so it coats rather than soaks.

20 min

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Horenso no ohitashiSpinach in dashi

Ohitashi, "the soaked dish", is one of the three small sides of the everyday ichiju-sansai meal, and in Tokyo homes a little mound of spinach steeped in cool seasoned broth turns up beside grilled fish and miso soup most weeks of the year. Usually it is topped with bonito flakes; this vegetarian version uses kombu and shiitake dashi and a sprinkle of toasted sesame instead. It is clean, savoury and barely seasoned, so the sweetness of the spinach comes through. A portion is about 35 kcal. The most common mistake is not squeezing the spinach after blanching, which dilutes the broth into a watery puddle. Chef's tip: blanch the stems for 10 seconds before pushing in the leaves; the stems need longer, and this way the whole bunch is tender at once.

15 min

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Furofuki daikonSimmered daikon with miso

In the cold months, when the daikon in Kyoto and Nerima are fat and juicy, furofuki daikon is the warming dish that steams on the dinner table: thick rounds of radish simmered slowly in kombu broth until they are almost translucent and so tender they break with chopsticks, then topped with a glossy, sweet miso sauce. It is eaten as a light main or a side with rice. A portion is about 120 kcal. The most common mistake is rushing the simmer: the daikon should be cooked through to the centre, with no white, hard core. Chef's tip: bevel the edges of each round with a peeler and score a cross on the base; the rounds keep their shape and the heat reaches the middle.

60 min

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Gomoku mameSimmered mixed beans

Gomoku mame, "five-ingredient beans", is a pot of soybeans simmered with kombu, carrot, burdock, konnyaku and shiitake that grandmothers across Japan make on a Sunday and keep in the fridge for a week of small side dishes and bento, and it is often part of the New Year spread too. Every piece is cut to the size of a bean, so each spoonful has a little of everything, sweet, savoury and full of protein. This is vegetarian, with no bonito. A portion is about 150 kcal. Using cooked soybeans makes it a 45-minute dish; from dried, soak 150 g overnight and boil for 1 hour first. The usual mistake is cutting the vegetables in large chunks; they should be the size of the beans. Chef's tip: let it cool in its broth; the beans soak up the flavour as the temperature drops.

45 min

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Tororo gohanMountain yam over barley rice

Tororo gohan is the speciality of Mariko-juku in Shizuoka, a post town on the old Tokaido road where travellers have stopped for bowls of it for four centuries, and it is now a simple, nourishing lunch all over Japan. Raw nagaimo (Chinese yam) is grated into a frothy, slippery purée, thinned with cool seasoned dashi and poured over hot barley rice, then topped with spring onion and nori. It sounds strange and tastes clean and comforting. This version uses vegetarian kombu dashi. A portion is about 330 kcal. Many people add a raw egg yolk: use a pasteurised egg if you do, especially for anyone pregnant, very young, older or with a weakened immune system. The common mistake is letting the dashi go in hot, which cooks the yam and loses its fluffiness; it must be cool. Chef's tip: grate the yam on the fine side of a grater, or the rough side of a suribachi bowl, and wear gloves; the raw sap can make skin itch.

20 min

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Kiriboshi daikon no nimonoSimmered dried daikon

Kiriboshi daikon, radish cut into thin strips and dried in the winter sun, is a pantry staple in Miyazaki, where most of it is made, and in homes all over Japan; simmered with carrot and thin fried tofu it becomes a brown, sweet-savoury side that fills bento boxes and the small plates of a home dinner. The dried strips have a deeper, sweeter flavour than fresh daikon and a pleasant chew. This vegetarian version uses kombu-shiitake dashi. A portion is about 95 kcal. The common mistake is soaking the dried daikon for too long; 10–15 minutes is enough, or it goes limp and loses its sweetness. Chef's tip: keep the soaking water and use a little of it in the broth; it is full of flavour.

30 min

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Yaki atsuageGrilled thick fried tofu

Atsuage, thick blocks of tofu deep-fried on the outside and soft and white within, sit in every supermarket chiller in Japan, and grilling them until crisp is one of the fastest dinners there is: an izakaya favourite in Tokyo and an easy dish at home when there is nothing else in. The block is grilled until the skin crackles, cut into cubes and topped with grated ginger, spring onion and a few drops of soy. A portion is about 190 kcal. The common mistake is grilling it in oil; atsuage is already fried, so a dry pan is all it needs. Chef's tip: pour boiling water over the block and pat it dry before grilling; it removes stale oil and the skin crisps up much better.

15 min

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ZosuiRice and vegetable soup

In Japan, zosui is what happens to the last of the hotpot broth: when the nabe is nearly finished, leftover rice goes into the pot with beaten egg, and everyone shares the soft, savoury porridge at the end. It is also the light dish made at home for upset stomachs and cold nights, using any rice from the cooker. This version uses kombu-shiitake dashi, mushrooms and greens. Eggs are an allergen. A portion is about 260 kcal. The common mistake is stirring the rice too much, which turns it gluey like okayu; zosui should be loose, with separate grains in clear broth. Chef's tip: rinse the cooked rice briefly in a sieve before adding it; it washes off surface starch and keeps the broth clear.

20 min

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UnohanaSimmered okara with vegetables

Okara, the soft white pulp left after making soy milk and tofu, is sold for pennies in Kyoto tofu shops, and grandmothers turn it into unohana, named after the white deutzia flowers that bloom in early summer: the pulp is simmered with carrot, shiitake, fried tofu, konnyaku and spring onion in sweet soy dashi until moist and fluffy. It is a side dish for rice and a classic of frugal, high-fibre home cooking. Many homes add a little chicken; this version is vegetarian, with kombu-shiitake dashi. A portion is about 140 kcal. The most common mistake is cooking it dry and crumbly; it should be moist enough to hold together when pressed with chopsticks, so don't skimp on the broth. Chef's tip: dry-fry the okara in the pan for a few minutes first; it loses its beany smell and absorbs the seasoning better.

35 min

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Yasai itameVegetable stir-fry

Yasai itame is the dish on every teishoku menu in Tokyo's cheap lunch counters and the default weeknight vegetable in Japanese homes: cabbage, bean sprouts, carrot, peppers and onion tossed fast over a high flame with salt, pepper and a splash of soy until glossy and still crunchy. Many homes add a few slices of pork; this is the vegetable-only version, with shiitake for savouriness. Eat it with rice and miso soup. A portion is about 110 kcal. The most common mistake is crowding a cool pan, which stews the vegetables in their own water; get the pan very hot and cook in two batches if your pan is small. Chef's tip: add the bean sprouts last and cook them for only 30 seconds; they should still snap.

16 min

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Nanakusa-gayuSeven-herb rice porridge

On the morning of 7 January, after days of rich New Year food, families all over Japan eat a bowl of nanakusa-gayu, rice porridge with seven young spring herbs, to rest the stomach and wish for good health in the year ahead. Supermarkets sell little packs of the seven herbs (seri, nazuna, gogyo, hakobera, hotokenoza, suzuna and suzushiro), but turnip, radish and their tops with watercress and spinach make a good stand-in. The porridge is plain, soft and seasoned only with salt. A portion is about 130 kcal. The most common mistake is adding the greens too early, which turns them grey and bitter; add them in the last minute. Chef's tip: don't stir the rice while it simmers; stirring breaks the grains and makes the porridge sticky instead of soft and clean.

50 min

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GanmodokiTofu and vegetable fritters

The name means 'mock goose', a hint that these fritters were invented by Buddhist monks who wanted something rich and satisfying without meat; in Kyoto they are called hiryōzu. Firm tofu is pressed, mashed with grated yam, carrot, hijiki and sesame, then fried into golden discs that are crisp outside and soft and springy within. Eat them hot with ginger and soy, or simmer them in oden or sweet dashi on cold days. The common mistake is not pressing the tofu enough; wet tofu makes fritters that split and spit in the oil. Chef's tip: a little grated Japanese mountain yam (nagaimo) binds the mix without egg and makes it fluffier; potato starch alone gives a denser fritter.

45 min

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Kinpira goboBurdock and carrot stir-fry

Open almost any home-packed bento in Tokyo or Osaka and there is a small heap of kinpira tucked into a corner: burdock root and carrot cut into matchsticks, fried in sesame oil, then cooked down with soy, mirin and a little chilli until glossy and almost dry. It is earthy, sweet-salty and crunchy, and it keeps for four days in the fridge, which is exactly why mothers make a big pan on Sunday. The mirin and sake both contain alcohol; the ingredient notes give alcohol-free swaps. The most common mistake is soaking the cut burdock for too long, which washes away its flavour; five minutes in water is plenty. Chef's tip: leave a little skin on the burdock by scrubbing with the back of a knife rather than peeling, because most of the aroma sits just under it.

27 min

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Nasu dengakuMiso-glazed aubergine

Dengaku began in Kyoto as tofu on skewers brushed with miso and grilled at temple festivals; today the aubergine version is a favourite izakaya plate across Japan, best in late summer when Japanese aubergines are at their sweetest. The halves are scored, cooked until the flesh is custard-soft, then spread with a glossy sweet miso and grilled until it bubbles and blisters. The mirin and sake contain alcohol but simmer away in the glaze; the notes give alcohol-free swaps. The usual mistake is grilling the miso before the aubergine is fully soft: it burns while the inside stays spongy. Chef's tip: score the cut side in a deep criss-cross, almost to the skin, so the heat and the glaze both get right in.

32 min

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InarizushiTofu pouch sushi

Named after the Inari shrines, whose fox messengers are said to love fried tofu, inarizushi are sold by the dozen in Tokyo department-store food halls and packed for school sports days, picnics and long train rides. Thin aburaage pouches are simmered in a sweet soy broth, then filled with vinegared rice and sesame, giving a juicy, sweet-salty bite. Mirin contains alcohol; see the note for an alcohol-free swap. The common mistake is squeezing the pouches dry after simmering; leave them moist so they stay juicy, but drain them enough that they don't drip. Chef's tip: roll a chopstick firmly over each sheet before cutting it, which loosens the layers so the pouch opens without tearing.

70 min

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Yaki nasuGrilled aubergine

Summer evenings in Japanese homes and izakaya often bring a plate of yaki nasu: whole aubergines blackened over a flame until the skin is burnt and the inside collapses into smoky, silky strands. Peeled while hot, they are served chilled or warm with grated ginger, soy and spring onion. The classic topping is bonito flakes; this vegetarian version uses toasted sesame and a kombu–shiitake dashi in the dressing instead. The common mistake is pulling the aubergine off the flame too early, leaving a firm, bitter centre; it should feel completely floppy. Chef's tip: plunge the charred aubergines into iced water for a few seconds only, which makes them easy to peel without washing away the smoky flavour.

25 min

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Goma dofuSesame tofu

Despite its name, goma dofu contains no soybeans: it is a pale, wobbly block of ground sesame and water, set with kudzu starch, and it is the signature dish of the temple lodgings on Mount Kōya in Wakayama, served at breakfast and at the start of shojin ryori meals. It has a bouncy, almost mochi-like texture and a deep, toasty sesame flavour, eaten with a dab of wasabi and soy. The common mistake is stopping the stirring too soon: it must be beaten hard over the heat for a full 15 minutes, or it sets soft and pasty instead of springy. Chef's tip: use pure white sesame paste (neri goma) rather than tahini if you can; it is more roasted and gives a richer, creamier flavour.

30 min

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Koya dofu no nimonoSimmered freeze-dried tofu

Kōya-dōfu takes its name from Mount Kōya, where monks discovered that tofu left out in the winter frost dried into light, spongy blocks that would keep for months. Rehydrated and simmered in sweet dashi, it soaks up broth like a sponge, so every bite releases a mouthful of savoury-sweet liquid. It is a regular in bento boxes, osechi and temple meals across Japan. Mirin contains alcohol but simmers away; see the note for an alcohol-free swap. The common mistake is boiling it hard, which makes it crumble; keep the pan at a lazy simmer. Chef's tip: after soaking, press each block between your palms in fresh water until the water runs clear, or it tastes faintly of the packet.

35 min

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Shojin dashiKombu and shiitake stock

Zen temples in Kyoto and Kamakura build their whole cuisine on this stock: kombu kelp and dried shiitake soaked in cold water until the liquid turns golden and deeply savoury, with no bonito at all. It is the vegan dashi for miso soup, simmered vegetables, noodle broths and dipping sauces, and every vegetarian Japanese recipe on this site can use it. The common mistake is boiling the kombu, which releases slime and bitterness; it should never go beyond a gentle simmer, and taking it out just before boiling gives the cleanest flavour. Chef's tip: soak overnight in the fridge (mizudashi) for the best, roundest flavour with no effort, then keep the softened shiitake for a simmered dish.

20 min

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Kabocha no nimonoSimmered Japanese pumpkin

In Japanese homes kabocha nimono is autumn and winter comfort, and it is traditionally eaten on the winter solstice (tōji) for good health; the wedges also travel well in a lunchbox. The dense, chestnut-sweet pumpkin is simmered skin-side down in a little dashi with sugar, mirin and soy until a skewer slides in, and the flesh turns fluffy while the dark green skin holds the shape. This version uses kombu–shiitake dashi so it is fully vegan; mirin contains alcohol and the note gives a swap. The usual mistake is stirring: it breaks the pumpkin into mash, so just shake the pan. Chef's tip: trim the sharp edges of each wedge (mentori) with a peeler so they don't crumble into the broth.

28 min

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ShiraaeVegetables in tofu dressing

Shiraae, 'white dressing', is one of the oldest dishes of Japanese temple cooking and still a gentle home side today, especially in the Kyoto area: blanched spinach, carrot and konnyaku folded into a creamy paste of tofu, ground sesame and a touch of white miso. It tastes mild, nutty and lightly sweet, rather like a Japanese answer to a dip-dressed salad. The common mistake is leaving the vegetables wet, which turns the dressing grey and runny; squeeze them well and dress just before serving. Chef's tip: for the silkiest dressing, grind the toasted sesame in a suribachi (or mortar) until it starts to turn oily, then mash the tofu straight into it.

28 min

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Kenchin jiruRoot vegetable and tofu soup

This hearty, clear soup is said to have been created at Kenchō-ji, the great Zen temple in Kamakura, where monks fried scraps of root vegetables and crumbled tofu in sesame oil before simmering them, so nothing was wasted. Today it is a winter staple in Kanto homes, especially in Ibaraki and Kanagawa: soft daikon, carrot, burdock, taro and konnyaku in a soy-seasoned kombu broth, nutty with sesame. A spoon of sake goes in at the end and simmers off; the note gives an alcohol-free swap. The common mistake is skipping the frying stage; it is the sesame oil that gives kenchin its richness. Chef's tip: tear the konnyaku and tofu with your hands instead of cutting, so the rough surfaces catch more broth.

40 min

Japanese Soups

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Japanese potato salad

Every konbini, school lunch tray and izakaya menu in Japan seems to have its own potato salad, a Western-born dish the Japanese have made entirely theirs. The potatoes are half-mashed so the salad is creamy with chunks, then folded with salted cucumber, carrot, onion and a rich, slightly tangy Japanese-style mayonnaise; it is often served as a side to tonkatsu or packed in a bento. Japanese mayonnaise is made with egg yolk, so this contains egg. The common mistake is mixing in the mayonnaise while the potatoes are hot, which makes it oily and gluey; season with vinegar while hot, then cool before the mayo goes in. Chef's tip: salt the cucumber and onion and squeeze them hard, so they stay crisp and don't water down the salad.

30 min

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Yamitsuki cabbageSesame cabbage salad

Yamitsuki means 'addictive', and this bowl of raw cabbage is what many Tokyo yakitori bars put down free the moment you sit, to nibble while the grill heats up. The leaves are torn rather than cut, tossed with sesame oil, garlic, salt and a little stock powder or soy, and finished with crumbled nori and sesame: crunchy, salty and hard to stop eating. The common mistake is dressing it too early; after ten minutes the salt draws out water and it goes limp. Chef's tip: tear the cabbage with your hands into bite-size pieces, because the ragged edges hold far more dressing than a knife-cut slice.

5 min

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Hijiki no nimonoSimmered hijiki seaweed

This is the quiet, dark heap of seaweed that turns up next to rice in set lunches all over Japan, and it is a staple of home bento boxes because it tastes just as good cold. Tiny black hijiki strands are simmered with carrot, thin fried tofu (aburaage) and soybeans in a sweet soy broth until the liquid is nearly gone. It is savoury, faintly of the sea and rich in fibre. Mirin contains alcohol; the note gives an alcohol-free swap, and this version uses fish-free kombu–shiitake dashi. A common mistake is skipping the rinse after soaking: dried hijiki carries sand, so swish it in fresh water twice. Because hijiki can hold inorganic arsenic, soak it well, discard the soaking water and eat it as a small side rather than daily in large amounts. Chef's tip: pour boiling water over the aburaage first to remove excess frying oil, so it soaks up the broth.

45 min

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KurikintonSweet potato and chestnut mash

Kurikinton means 'chestnut golden mound', and its bright yellow colour is meant to look like piled gold, which is why it sits in the osechi box at New Year as a wish for wealth. Smooth, sweet mashed sweet potato is folded around whole candied chestnuts, giving a dessert-like side that children love. The traditional yellow comes from dried gardenia pods cooked with the potato. The common mistake is mashing the potatoes without sieving them, which leaves fibres; pushing them through a sieve while hot gives the silky, glossy finish. Chef's tip: peel the sweet potatoes thickly, cutting away the layer just under the skin, as that is where the grey colour and stringiness sit.

45 min

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Gari (pickled sushi ginger)

Sushi counters from Tokyo's Tsukiji outer market to neighbourhood conveyor-belt bars set a heap of gari by every plate, a palate-cleanser eaten between pieces of fish. The best is made in early summer, when young ginger with thin, pink-tipped skin appears in Japanese and Asian greengrocers; its blush turns the pickle naturally pale pink in the vinegar, with no colouring. It takes 20 minutes and keeps for months. The usual mistake is slicing too thick: gari should be almost see-through, so use a mandoline or vegetable peeler. Chef's tip: blanch the slices for just 30 seconds; any longer and the ginger loses its crunch.

20 min

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Asazuke (overnight cucumber and cabbage pickle)Quick cucumber and cabbage pickle

Asazuke means shallow pickle, and it is the quick, fresh pickle that Japanese home cooks make the night before, tucked in a plastic bag in the fridge door and served with breakfast rice and miso soup. Cucumber and cabbage are rubbed with salt and pressed with kombu, a few slivers of chilli and yuzu or lemon peel, so they stay crunchy, juicy and only gently seasoned. It takes 15 minutes to make. The common mistake is not squeezing out the liquid before serving, which leaves the pickle watery and salty. Chef's tip: rub the salt in firmly with your hands for a full minute; bruising the vegetables a little is what lets them season through in a few hours.

15 min

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Wafu kinoko pasta (Japanese mushroom spaghetti)

Wafu means Japanese-style, and this buttery soy-sauce spaghetti grew up in Tokyo's small pasta cafés in the post-war years, when cooks began dressing Italian noodles with the flavours of home. Today it is a weeknight standard in flats all over Japan: shimeji, shiitake and enoki browned in butter with garlic, glossed with soy sauce and a splash of pasta water, then showered with shredded nori. It is meat-free and ready in about 20 minutes. The mistake to avoid is crowding wet mushrooms into a cool pan; they stew grey instead of browning, so get the pan hot and leave them alone. Chef's tip: add the soy sauce around the edge of the hot pan rather than onto the pasta so it sizzles and turns nutty before you toss.

20 min

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Melon panCookie-crust sweet bun

Melon pan takes its name from its looks, not its taste: a soft sweet bun baked under a sugary cookie crust scored into a criss-cross pattern like a cantaloupe rind. Japanese bakeries and school canteens sell it everywhere, and around Kobe and Hiroshima the same bun is often called sunrise. It is best on the day it is baked, when the crust still crackles against the fluffy inside. The common mistake is warm, soft cookie dough, which sticks to your hands and slides off the bun in the oven; keep it well chilled and work quickly. Chef's tip: roll the cookie dough between two sheets of baking paper so you can lift it neatly onto each bun.

75 min

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Korokke (Japanese potato croquettes)

On Tokyo's covered shopping streets, from Togoshi Ginza to Sunamachi, butcher and deli counters fry korokke all afternoon and sell them in paper sleeves to children on their way home from school. This vegetarian version keeps the soft, slightly sweet filling of buttery mashed potato with onion and carrot, wrapped in a jagged panko crust that shatters when you bite it. Eat them hot with a drizzle of thick sweet-savoury sauce and a pile of shredded cabbage, or tuck one cold into a bento. The usual mistake is a wet mash: steam-dry the potatoes well and let the filling cool completely, or the croquettes split open in the oil. Chef's tip: chill the shaped, crumbed croquettes for 30 minutes before frying so the coating sets firm.

60 min

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KuromameSweet black soybeans

No osechi box, the lacquered stack of cold dishes Japanese families share over the first three days of January, is complete without kuromame: plump black soybeans simmered so slowly in syrup that they stay whole, wrinkle-free and shining like jet. The word 'mame' also means hard work and good health, so eating them wishes for a diligent year. They are soft, sweet and gently savoury, with a deep bean flavour. The common mistake is letting the beans touch the air while cooking, which wrinkles their skins; keep them submerged under a drop-lid the whole time and top up with water. Chef's tip: soak the dry beans directly in the hot seasoned syrup overnight rather than in plain water, which seasons them from the inside and keeps the skins smooth.

250 min

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Umeboshi (salted dried ume plums)Salted pickled plums

In the ume orchards of Minabe, in Wakayama's old Kishu province, families salt the June harvest of ripe yellow ume in crocks and then spread them on bamboo mats under the hottest days of late July, the doyo-boshi, before the plums go back into their brine. The result is wrinkled, intensely salty-sour fruit, the classic filling for onigiri and the red sun in the middle of a lunchbox of rice. This is a once-a-year project spread over about two months; the active work is about two hours. Do not cut the salt: below about 15 % of the fruit's weight the plums go mouldy, which is the most common failure at home. Chef's tip: use only fully ripe, yellow, fragrant ume; hard green ones turn tough and bitter.

120 min

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YokanRed bean jelly

Yōkan is one of Japan's oldest sweets, brought by Zen monks and refined in Edo-period Tokyo into dense, dark blocks that were carried by samurai and are still given as gifts in long wooden boxes. Red bean paste, sugar and agar are cooked down until thick and set into a smooth, firm jelly that slices cleanly, served in thin pieces with bitter green tea. The common mistake is undercooking the agar: it must boil for two full minutes or the yōkan won't set firmly. Chef's tip: cook the paste until a trail drawn across the bottom of the pan holds for a second before closing, which gives the classic firm, glossy neri yōkan.

25 min

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Ichigo daifukuStrawberry mochi

Ichigo daifuku appeared in Tokyo sweet shops in the 1980s and quickly became the treat everyone queues for from January to April, when Japanese strawberries are at their best. A whole berry is wrapped in smooth sweet bean paste, then in a thin skin of soft, stretchy mochi, so you get juicy fruit, earthy sweetness and a pillowy chew in one bite. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is wrapping a damp strawberry, which makes the bean paste slide and the mochi split; dry the berries completely. Chef's tip: microwave the mochi dough in short bursts and stir hard between them, until it turns translucent and elastic, rather than in one long blast.

36 min

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OhagiSweet red bean rice balls

Ohagi are made twice a year, at the spring and autumn equinoxes (higan), when Japanese families visit ancestors' graves and leave these rice balls as offerings; in spring they are called botamochi. Sticky rice is cooked and only half-pounded, so you can still see the grains, then shaped into ovals and coated in chunky red bean paste, roasted soybean flour (kinako) or black sesame. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is pounding the rice smooth like mochi; ohagi should keep a rustic, grainy texture. Chef's tip: wet your hands and squeeze out cling film between shaping, so the rice never sticks.

70 min

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Kashiwa mochiOak leaf rice cakes

On 5 May, Children's Day, families in Tokyo and across eastern Japan eat kashiwa mochi: soft, flat rice cakes folded over sweet bean paste and wrapped in an oak leaf. Oak trees keep their old leaves until new ones bud, so the leaf stands for a family line carrying on. The leaf isn't eaten; it adds a faint woody scent and keeps the mochi moist. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is steaming the dough too briefly, which leaves it pasty; steam until it turns slightly translucent, then knead. Chef's tip: dried oak leaves from Japanese grocers need a 10-minute simmer and a rinse before use; if you can't find them, wrap in cherry or bamboo leaves or baking paper.

55 min

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Takuan (pickled daikon)

Each autumn in the farmhouses of Miyazaki and Kanagawa, whole daikon are strung up under the eaves to dry in the wind before being packed into barrels of rice bran, and the bright yellow, crunchy slices that come out weeks later sit beside almost every bowl of rice in Japan. Homemade takuan is milder and sweeter than shop-bought, with a gentle ferment and no artificial colour; persimmon peel and a little turmeric give the golden tone. The active work is about two hours, but the radish needs 5–10 days of drying and 3–4 weeks in the bran. The common mistake is underdrying: the daikon must bend into a U without snapping, or it will turn watery and soft. Chef's tip: keep the tub somewhere cool (below 15 °C) and press it with a heavy weight, so the brine rises over the radishes within a few days.

120 min

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Shokupan (Japanese milk bread)

Shokupan is the everyday sandwich loaf of Japan, sold by the half loaf at bakeries from Sapporo to Fukuoka and toasted in thick slabs for breakfast with butter and jam. Its feathery, pull-apart crumb comes from a cooked flour paste (yudane-style) that lets the dough hold more water, so the bread stays soft for days. You need a 900 g loaf tin and a few hours of mostly waiting. The usual mistake is slicing it while hot, which squashes the delicate crumb into gummy layers; let it cool fully. Chef's tip: roll each piece of dough into a tight spiral before it goes into the tin, which gives the tall, even rise and those stringy, tearable layers.

75 min

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Natto gohan (natto on rice)

Mito, the capital of Ibaraki Prefecture, is Japan's natto town, but this sticky, pungent breakfast is eaten in homes all over eastern Japan, usually before work with miso soup and a pickle. The fermented soybeans are beaten until they form long silky strings, seasoned, and spooned over steaming rice; they are packed with plant protein. Most packs come with a little sauce sachet that contains bonito fish stock, so for a vegan bowl leave it out and season with soy sauce as here. The common mistake is pouring in the sauce before you stir: whip the beans first, or they never get properly frothy. Chef's tip: stir about 50 times until the strings turn white and fluffy, then season and stir 10 more.

5 min

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Nukazuke (rice-bran pickles)

Before refrigerators, almost every Japanese kitchen kept a nukadoko, a crock of salted, fermenting rice bran that someone stirred by hand every morning, and families in Kyoto and Kyushu still pass theirs down for decades. Cucumbers, carrots, daikon or aubergine buried overnight come out crisp, sour and deeply savoury, a little like a gentle sauerkraut. Starting a bed takes about an hour of work and a week of 'feeding' with scraps before it pickles well. The most common mistake is forgetting to stir: left alone, the surface grows yeast and the bed starts to smell sharp and off. Chef's tip: stir from the bottom up once a day with clean hands, and if the bed gets watery, soak up the liquid with a clean cloth rather than pouring it away.

60 min

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Tamago sando (Japanese egg salad sandwich)

Every Japanese convenience store fridge holds a row of tamago sando, and Tokyo coffee shops (kissaten) have served them with morning coffee for decades. The filling is egg salad made rich with Japanese-style mayonnaise and a little milk, spread thickly between crustless slices of soft milk bread and cut into neat rectangles. Make them for a picnic, a lunchbox or a lazy breakfast. The usual mistake is overboiling the eggs: past 10 minutes the yolks go dry with a grey ring, and the salad loses its soft, sunny colour. Chef's tip: chop the whites finely but mash the yolks into the mayonnaise first, so the filling is creamy with little bouncy flecks of white.

20 min

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KakigoriShaved ice

Kakigori is Japan's great summer cooler, sold under a flag printed with the character 氷 (ice) at festival stalls and seaside huts and turned into an art in Tokyo dessert cafés, where queues form in July and August. Ice is shaved into soft, snow-like flakes that melt on the tongue, then soaked in fruit syrup, matcha syrup or sweetened condensed milk. Contains dairy if you use condensed milk. The common mistake is using ice straight from the freezer: very cold ice shatters into crunchy shards, so let the block soften for 10 minutes first. Chef's tip: build it in two layers, pouring syrup over the half-full bowl and then again on top, so it is flavoured all the way through.

15 min

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OshirukoSweet red bean soup

On snowy days in northern and eastern Japan, and especially after kagami-biraki on 11 January, when the New Year offering of mochi is broken up, families warm up with a bowl of oshiruko: azuki beans simmered into a sweet, thick soup with a puffed, toasted rice cake bobbing in it. In Kansai a chunky version is called zenzai. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is adding all the sugar at the start, which stops the beans softening; sweeten only once they are tender. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt at the end makes the sweetness taste rounder and the bean flavour deeper.

95 min

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Fukujinzuke (seven-vegetable curry relish)

Named after the Seven Lucky Gods, fukujinzuke was first sold by a pickle shop in Tokyo's Ueno in the 1880s and soon became the crunchy red-brown relish spooned beside every plate of Japanese curry rice. Seven chopped vegetables, here daikon, aubergine, lotus root, cucumber, carrot, shiitake and ginger, are salted and pressed, then soaked in a hot sweet soy and mirin syrup. Mirin is a sweet rice wine; it is boiled in the syrup so the alcohol mostly cooks off, and you can swap it for extra sugar and water. The common mistake is skipping the squeezing: wet vegetables dilute the syrup and the relish turns soft. Chef's tip: pour the hot syrup over, drain it back into the pan, boil and pour again; doing this twice keeps the vegetables crisp but fully seasoned.

40 min

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Mitarashi dangoSoy-glazed rice dumplings

Mitarashi dango are said to come from Shimogamo Shrine in Kyoto, where they were sold at the midsummer purification festival; today they are the snack of shrine fairs, flower-viewing picnics and station kiosks all over Japan. Chewy little rice-flour balls are threaded on skewers, toasted until speckled, and coated in a translucent, sweet-salty soy glaze that tastes a little like caramel. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is a runny glaze: it must simmer until it turns clear and thick, or it slides off. Chef's tip: mix silken tofu into the rice flour instead of some of the water; the dumplings stay soft for hours instead of hardening as they cool.

30 min

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AnmitsuAgar jelly with red bean

Anmitsu became a craze in Tokyo's Ginza and Asakusa tea rooms in the 1930s and is still the classic summer order in kanmidokoro, the sweet cafés of old Tokyo. Clear, firm cubes of agar jelly are piled into a bowl with seasonal fruit, a scoop of sweet bean paste and boiled red peas, then drenched in dark, smoky kuromitsu syrup. The common mistake is using gelatin, which melts; agar jelly stays firm and refreshing at room temperature. Chef's tip: make the kuromitsu with Okinawan kokuto black sugar if you can; it gives a deep, almost liquorice-like flavour that muscovado only gets close to.

30 min

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Su-renkonPickled lotus root

Lotus root is full of holes you can see straight through, so in Japan it stands for a clear view of the year ahead, and these crunchy, snow-white slices of sweet-vinegared lotus are a fixture of osechi boxes on New Year's Day. Often cut into flower shapes, they taste bright and lightly sweet with a satisfying crispness. The common mistake is boiling the slices for too long: more than 2 minutes and they turn starchy instead of crunchy. Chef's tip: add a splash of vinegar to the boiling water as well as to the pickle, which keeps the lotus root brilliantly white.

20 min

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Taiyaki

Taiyaki were first sold in 1909 at a Tokyo street stall that still exists in Azabu-Jūban, shaped like sea bream because the fish was a luxury eaten at celebrations. Today vendors at winter festivals and shopping streets across Japan press batter into fish-shaped iron moulds, fill them with sweet bean paste and turn them out golden and crisp-edged. Contains egg, milk and wheat. You need a taiyaki pan. The common mistake is overfilling, which makes the bean paste burst through the seams and burn; keep the filling a finger's width from the edges. Chef's tip: let the batter rest for 30 minutes so the gluten relaxes, which gives a thinner, crisper shell.

55 min

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Purin (Japanese custard pudding)Caramel custard pudding

Old-fashioned Tokyo kissaten pride themselves on purin that stands up on the plate: a firm, slightly bouncy custard under a dark, bittersweet caramel, served in a glass dish with a long spoon. It is a favourite dessert for children and nostalgic adults alike, and it keeps for two days in the fridge. The mistake that ruins it is too much heat; a hot oven or rolling boil makes the custard puff and fill with tiny holes (called su), so bake it gently in a water bath. Chef's tip: take the caramel darker than you think, to a deep mahogany, because its bitterness is what balances the sweet custard.

60 min

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Tataki goboSesame burdock salad

In Kansai homes around Osaka and Kyoto, osechi always includes tataki gobo: burdock root boiled, then beaten with a rolling pin so it splits open, and dressed in a thick ground-sesame vinegar. The long, deep-rooted burdock stands for a family that is settled and lasting. The pounding gives rough, fibrous edges that soak up the nutty, tangy dressing, so each bite is earthy, sweet and sharp. The common mistake is overcooking the burdock until soft; it should still be pleasantly firm before you pound it. Chef's tip: dress the burdock while it is still warm, when the fibres open up and drink in the sesame vinegar.

25 min

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Kohaku namasuPickled daikon and carrot salad

Red and white are Japan's colours of celebration, and this crisp, sweet-sour salad of fine daikon and carrot shreds is the cleanser of the New Year osechi box, eaten between richer dishes from 1 to 3 January. Salting the vegetables first softens them into pliable threads that still crunch, before they soak in rice vinegar, sugar and a little yuzu. The common mistake is skipping the squeeze after salting, which leaves the salad watery and bland. Chef's tip: cut the daikon along the length of the root, not across it, so the shreds stay crisp instead of going limp.

20 min

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Sakura mochiCherry leaf rice cakes

When the cherry trees bloom in late March, every wagashi shop in Japan fills its window with sakura mochi. In the Kansai region around Osaka and Kyoto they are made from coarse dōmyōji-ko, steamed and crushed glutinous rice, tinted soft pink and wrapped around bean paste, then tucked into a salted cherry leaf that perfumes it with an almond-like, floral scent; Tokyo's version is a thin pink crêpe instead. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is not soaking the salted leaves, so the mochi tastes too salty; rinse and soak them for 15 minutes. Chef's tip: the leaf is edible, and eating it with the mochi gives the sweet-salty balance the dish is famous for.

50 min

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Tamago kake gohan (raw egg on rice)

Students, salarymen and farmers across Japan eat tamago kake gohan, TKG for short, as a two-minute breakfast, and the egg-farm towns of Okayama and Shimane even hold festivals for it. A raw egg is beaten into piping-hot rice with soy sauce until it turns glossy and almost custardy, like a soft risotto. In Japan eggs are graded for eating raw; elsewhere, use only pasteurised eggs or eggs with a recognised safety stamp, very fresh and kept cold. This dish is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. The common mistake is using lukewarm rice, which leaves the egg slippery and raw-tasting; the rice must be steaming hot. Chef's tip: mix the white into the rice first until fluffy, then drop the yolk on top and break it at the table.

3 min

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Yasai no misozukeMiso-pickled vegetables

Misozuke is the pickle a Japanese home cook makes without thinking: a tub of miso loosened with mirin and a little sugar sits in the fridge, and whatever vegetables are around get buried in it overnight. It is made all year, but especially in early summer when cucumbers are crisp, and in winter for carrots and daikon; slices go beside breakfast rice, into bento boxes and next to a bowl of ochazuke at the end of a meal. The vegetables come out firmer and faintly translucent, salty-sweet with the deep fermented flavour of miso but still fresh inside. The common mistake is burying wet vegetables: the water dilutes the bed, which turns runny and spoils faster. Salt them lightly, pat them completely dry and the bed can be reused two or three times. Timing is the readiness cue: cucumber and celery are ready in about a day, carrot and daikon in two to three, and anything longer than a week gets too salty. Choose a rice miso labelled gluten free if that matters to you; barley miso contains gluten. Chef's tip: wrap each vegetable in a sheet of muslin before burying it, so it comes out clean and the bed stays tidy.

21 min

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Pan-gayu (bread porridge)

Pan-gayu is a staple of the early rinyushoku (weaning) stage in Japan, the second grain after rice porridge, and it fills the 'first foods' pages of every baby magazine sold in Tokyo convenience stores. Crustless white bread is torn into a pan of water, breast milk or formula and simmered until it collapses, then mashed smooth for a soft, milky, faintly sweet porridge. Bread already contains a little salt, so this is an occasional porridge rather than an everyday one, and no extra salt, sugar or honey goes in. It contains wheat (gluten) and milk if made with milk. Chef's tip: choose the softest, plainest white sandwich loaf with the lowest salt on the label, and cut away every bit of crust.

8 min

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Kombu dashi for babiesKelp broth for babies

Kombu dashi is where Japanese weaning starts: the gentle, savoury water that thins jūbai-gayu (rice porridge) and vegetable purées, so babies learn umami instead of salt. Japanese parents make a jug every few days, and baby-food counters in Osaka department stores sell frozen cubes of it. Kombu is very high in iodine, so this broth is used a spoonful or two at a time to flavour a meal, a few times a week, never as a drink. Nothing else goes in: no salt, soy sauce, bonito or stock powder. It is free of the major allergens. Chef's tip: lift the kombu out just before the water simmers; boiled kombu turns slimy and gives a bitter, sea-weedy taste.

40 min

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Ojiya for babiesRice and vegetable porridge for babies

Ojiya, cooked rice simmered into a soft porridge with broth and vegetables, is what Japanese families eat on chilly evenings or after a cold, and it is a staple of the kamikami-ki, the stage around nine months when babies start mashing soft lumps with their gums. Instead of soy sauce or salted dashi, it is made with plain home-made kombu stock, so the flavour comes from the sweetness of the carrot and daikon. For babies, the beaten egg is cooked until completely set. It contains egg and is free of milk, gluten, nuts, soya, sesame and fish. Chef's tip: chop the vegetables to the size of a grain of rice; that is just right for the kamikami stage.

20 min

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Gohan oyaki (rice finger patties)

Oyaki means a little pan-cooked cake, and Japanese parents make gohan oyaki from leftover rice when babies around nine months start wanting to feed themselves. Mashed rice is mixed with steamed kabocha squash (or grated carrot) and a spoon of potato starch, shaped into finger-sized patties and cooked gently until lightly golden. They are soft and sweet inside, hold together in a small fist and squash easily against the gums. They are free of the major allergens: no milk, egg, gluten, nuts, soya, sesame or fish. Chef's tip: mash the rice while it is warm; cold rice will not stick together and the patties crumble.

25 min

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Ogura toastToast with sweet red bean

Walk into a kissaten coffee shop in Nagoya before 11 am, order a coffee, and the "morning service" brings a thick slab of toast spread with butter and a mound of ogura-an, coarse sweet azuki bean paste. The hot, salty butter melting into the cool, grainy beans is the whole point. The common mistake is thin sandwich bread: it goes limp under the paste, so use a 3–4 cm slice of shokupan or soft white bloomer. Chef's tip: butter the toast the second it comes out, then spread the bean paste only on half of each slice so every bite gets a different balance of salt and sweet.

8 min

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Onsen tamagoHot spring eggs

In hot-spring towns like Beppu and Kusatsu, ryokan guests find a little bowl beside their breakfast rice: an egg cooked slowly in the spring water, its white barely holding together and its yolk thick like custard, sitting in a splash of seasoned dashi. At home you copy the hot spring with a pan of water held well below the boil. The mistake almost everyone makes is using water that is too hot, which gives an ordinary soft-boiled egg with a set white; keep it at about 70 °C. This version uses a kombu and shiitake dashi, so it stays vegetarian. Because the eggs are only partly set, cook eggs fully for anyone pregnant, young children, older people or anyone with a weakened immune system. Chef's tip: take the eggs out of the fridge 30 minutes early, because a cold egg drops the water temperature and the yolk stays raw.

30 min

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Harusame saladGlass noodle salad

Harusame, "spring rain" noodles, are fine glass noodles made from mung bean or potato starch, and this tangy salad of them with cucumber, carrot and ribbons of thin omelette is a supermarket deli favourite and a regular bento side across Japan. Ham is usually added; this version keeps it vegetarian. The common mistake is leaving the noodles long, which makes the salad impossible to eat from a bento with chopsticks; cut them with scissors after cooking. Chef's tip: dress the noodles while they are still slightly warm, because they drink up the dressing then and stay flavourful cold.

23 min

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Kombu tsukudaniSoy-simmered kelp

Japanese home cooks hate waste, so the softened kelp left over from making dashi is saved in the freezer until there is enough to simmer down into tsukudani, a dark, chewy relish named after Tokyo's Tsukudajima island, where fishermen first preserved their catch in soy. A teaspoon goes into the middle of an onigiri or on top of the rice in a weekday bento, and it lasts a week in the fridge. The common mistake is boiling it hard from the start: the kelp turns slimy and the sauce scorches before the strips are tender. A splash of vinegar early on softens the kelp so it cooks evenly. Chef's tip: stop when only a spoonful of glaze clings to the pan, because the relish thickens a lot more as it cools.

40 min

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NametakeSoy-simmered enoki mushrooms

Jars of nametake sit in almost every Japanese fridge: enoki mushrooms cooked down in sweet soy until they turn silky and slightly slippery, ready to spoon on plain rice, tofu or a bento's onigiri for a quick hit of savoury flavour. Homemade takes ten minutes and costs a fraction of the shop jars. The common mistake is chopping the enoki too short, which turns the relish to mush; 3 cm lengths keep a little bite. Chef's tip: add the vinegar at the very end, off the heat, for a brighter taste and a longer life in the fridge.

15 min

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Kyuchan cucumber pickle

Kyuchan is the sweet-salty soy pickle that Japanese mothers tuck into the corner of a bento: thin coins of cucumber that stay crunchy for days thanks to an old trick of pouring hot pickling liquid over them several times. It brightens plain rice and cuts the richness of fried karaage-style dishes. The common mistake is simmering the cucumbers in the sauce, which makes them soft and grey; they should only ever sit in hot liquid off the heat. Chef's tip: squeeze the salted cucumbers really hard in a cloth, because every drop of water you remove is crunch you keep.

45 min

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Nori tsukudaniSoy-simmered nori

When a pack of nori loses its crispness, Japanese cooks turn it into nori tsukudani, the jet-black, jammy seaweed paste sold in jars as "gohan desu yo" and spread over the rice in bento boxes up and down the country. It tastes of the sea, soy and a gentle sweetness. The common mistake is walking away: once the water has gone the paste catches on the bottom within a minute. Chef's tip: soak the torn nori before you heat it, so it melts into a smooth paste instead of leaving chewy shreds.

17 min

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Shiitake no umaniSimmered shiitake mushrooms

These sweet-savoury simmered mushrooms are a fixture of Japanese bento and of osechi New Year boxes, and they are sliced into chirashi sushi and inari as well. The caps are rehydrated, then cooked in their own deep-flavoured soaking water with soy and sugar until the liquid becomes a sticky glaze. The common mistake is throwing away the soaking water, which holds most of the flavour. Chef's tip: soak the mushrooms in the fridge overnight if you can; a slow, cold soak gives a far meatier texture than a quick hot one.

60 min

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ShibazukeRed shiso aubergine pickle

Shibazuke comes from Ohara, in the hills north of Kyoto, where summer aubergines, cucumbers and myoga ginger are pressed with salt and red shiso leaves until everything turns a vivid purple and pleasantly sour. A few slivers sit beside the rice in Kyoto bento boxes. This home version is lightly fermented for a day under a weight. The common mistake is too little weight: the vegetables must sit under their own brine or they spoil instead of souring. Chef's tip: rub the shiso with salt and squeeze out its first dark, bitter juice before it ever touches the vegetables.

30 min

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Kabocha saladPumpkin salad

Children across Japan know this golden, chunky salad from their bento boxes and school lunches: steamed kabocha squash crushed with mayonnaise, a few plump raisins and a touch of pepper, sweet enough to pass for dessert. It holds its shape cold, so it fills a bento cup neatly. The common mistake is mashing the squash while it is wet, which gives a watery salad; dry it off in the pan first. Leave some skin on for colour. The mayonnaise contains egg. Chef's tip: dress the squash while it is still warm with the salt and pepper, but add the mayonnaise only once it has cooled, so it stays creamy instead of turning oily.

22 min

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Wakame gohanWakame rice

Wakame gohan is the green-flecked rice that turns up in Japanese school lunches and convenience-store onigiri: plain rice mixed with salted, toasted wakame flakes and sesame. At home you make your own seasoning in five minutes from a pack of dried cut wakame. The common mistake is soaking the wakame first, which gives slimy rice; it should go in dry and crisp so it softens only with the rice's steam. Chef's tip: shape onigiri with wet, salted hands while the rice is hot, then cool them fast on a plate before wrapping for the lunchbox.

10 min

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Satsumaimo gohanSweet potato rice

When the first purple-skinned satsumaimo arrive in Japanese shops in October, families cook them right into the rice pot: the cubes turn soft and honeyed, and a sprinkle of black sesame and salt makes it taste like autumn. It is a favourite in children's bento boxes and needs nothing but a pickle on the side. The common mistake is skipping the soak for the sweet potato, so it bleeds starch and turns the rice grey and gummy. Chef's tip: leave the skin on; it holds each cube together and gives the rice its purple-and-gold look.

60 min

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Yukari shiso saltRed shiso rice seasoning

Yukari is the bright purple, salty-sour shaker that Japanese parents sprinkle over plain rice so that a bento looks cheerful and tastes of something even when it has gone cold. Traditionally it is made from the red shiso leaves left after pickling umeboshi plums; this home version gets the same flavour by salting and souring fresh red shiso in early summer. The common mistake is drying the leaves too hot, which turns them brown and bitter. Chef's tip: keep the oven no hotter than 80 °C and leave the door ajar, and the colour stays a jewel-like magenta.

120 min

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Sansai okowaSticky rice with mountain vegetables

In the snowy valleys of Yamagata, Niigata and Nagano, sansai okowa is what families cook in late spring when bracken, royal fern and bamboo shoots come down from the hills, and it turns up again in autumn rice-ball lunchboxes and at temple festivals. Soaked glutinous rice soaks up a soy and shiitake broth and cooks to a chewy, glossy, gently savoury pile studded with crunchy, slightly bitter greens. Eat it warm or at room temperature with miso soup and pickles, or shape it into onigiri. The usual mistake is giving sticky rice as much water as ordinary rice: it turns into paste, so use much less and let the soaking do the work. Chef's tip: buy the boiled, vacuum-packed mixed sansai sold in Japanese shops, and rinse it well, as it is often stored in brine.

60 min

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Daikon to aburaage no nimonoSimmered daikon and fried tofu

When winter daikon is fat, sweet and cheap in every Japanese market, home cooks from Hokkaido to Kyushu simmer it with strips of aburaage, the thin fried tofu pouches, as an everyday side for rice and grilled food. The radish turns soft and see-through and drinks up a light soy broth, while the tofu soaks up the rest like a sponge. This version uses a kelp and shiitake dashi instead of bonito, so the whole pot is vegan, and it tastes even better reheated the next day. The usual mistake is boiling it hard: the daikon edges crumble and the broth goes cloudy, so keep it at a lazy simmer under a drop lid. Chef's tip: pour boiling water over the aburaage before cutting it, which rinses off the stale frying oil and lets the broth soak in.

40 min

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GenmaichaGreen tea with toasted rice

Genmaicha started as a thrifty Japanese blend: toasted rice stretched expensive tea leaves and made the pot go further. It is now loved for itself and turns up everywhere, from office kettles in Tokyo to the free tea at sushi counters and ramen shops, poured all through the meal because its gentle, roasted flavour does not fight with soy or fish. The rice gives a nutty, savoury, almost buttery taste; the green tea adds a light grassy edge. It has about half the caffeine of plain sencha, so many people drink it in the afternoon. The usual mistake is pouring boiling water straight onto it: the green leaves scald and the cup turns bitter while the rice flavour gets lost. Let the kettle sit for a minute or two so the water is around 80–85 °C, and steep for no more than a minute. It is ready when the liquor is pale yellow-green and clear, and the steam smells of popcorn and cut grass. Chef's tip: matcha-iri genmaicha, with powdered matcha dusted over the blend, gives a greener, fuller cup; use it the same way but stir the pot once before pouring.

5 min

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Kuzuyu (hot kudzu drink)

Kuzuyu is what Japanese mothers make when someone has a chill or an upset stomach, and what many people sip on a frosty winter evening, especially in Nara, whose Yoshino mountains have produced the finest hon-kuzu starch for centuries. Kudzu root starch is stirred into water with a little sugar and cooked until the milky liquid suddenly turns clear, glossy and gently thick, somewhere between a hot drink and a soft pudding you drink from the cup. Grated ginger warms it; some families add a spoon of matcha or a squeeze of yuzu. It tastes clean, mildly sweet and comforting, and it is traditionally given to people recovering from colds. The mistake almost everyone makes once is sprinkling kudzu into hot water, where it forms rubbery lumps at once. Always crush it and dissolve it completely in cold water first, then heat it while stirring without stopping. It is ready when there are no white streaks left, the drink is translucent and it coats the back of a spoon. Chef's tip: real hon-kuzu comes in chalky lumps; crush them with the back of a spoon in the cold water and they dissolve in seconds.

8 min

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Mugicha (roasted barley tea)

From the rainy season in June until the cicadas fall quiet in September, almost every Japanese household keeps a tall jug of mugicha in the fridge. It is poured for children coming in from summer club practice, for grandparents after an afternoon nap, and alongside cold sōmen at lunch, because it carries no caffeine and can be drunk all day. Whole barley grains roasted until deep brown give a cup that tastes of toast, a little of coffee and a little of popcorn, with a clean, dry finish and no sweetness at all. Supermarkets sell it in tea bags, but loose roasted grains simmered in a pan make a rounder, darker brew. The usual mistake is leaving the grains in the jug or letting the hot tea sit out on the counter for hours: it turns bitter and, being a grain infusion, it sours quickly in summer heat. Strain it, cool it fast in a sink of cold water, and drink it within two days. It is ready when the liquid is a clear amber-brown and smells like freshly toasted bread. Chef's tip: dry-toast the grains for two minutes before brewing to wake up a bag that has been open a while.

20 min

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HojichaRoasted green tea

Hojicha was born in Kyoto in the 1920s, when tea merchants started roasting the coarse late-season bancha leaves and stems over charcoal to sell what would not keep. Today the smell of tea roasting in a shop doorway is part of walking down Teramachi or past the Nishiki market. Roasting drives off much of the caffeine and all the grassy bitterness, so hojicha is the pot that comes out after an evening meal, with rice crackers, or for children and older relatives who avoid stronger tea. The cup is reddish brown, smells of caramel and roasted nuts, and tastes soft and slightly sweet with almost no astringency. Unlike sencha, it likes really hot water and a very short steep. The common mistake is treating it like black tea and leaving the leaves in for several minutes, which makes it flat and woody; 30 seconds is enough for the first pour, and the leaves give a good second pot. It is ready when the liquor is clear russet and the steam smells of toasted sugar. Chef's tip: if your packet has lost its perfume, warm the leaves in a dry pan for 30 seconds until they smoke very faintly before brewing.

5 min

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Akajiso juice (red shiso cordial)

Bunches of red shiso fill Japanese greengrocers for a few weeks in June and July, mostly bought to colour umeboshi. Gardeners from Kyoto's Ohara valley to Kantō boil the surplus into this cordial and keep it in the fridge for hot afternoons. Simmering pulls a murky purple-brown liquid from the leaves; the magic is the moment the vinegar goes in and the whole pan flushes a brilliant clear magenta. Diluted with ice water or soda water it tastes sweet-sour and herbal, like a cross between blackcurrant, mint and cinnamon. The most common mistake is simmering the leaves too long or with the stems: it turns grassy and bitter. Strip the leaves, boil them for five minutes only, until they have turned green and limp, then lift them out. The cordial is ready when it is jewel-bright and clear. Bottle it in a clean, sterilised bottle and keep it in the fridge for up to three weeks; discard if it fizzes, clouds or grows mould. No fresh red shiso nearby? Japanese and Korean shops sometimes sell it in summer, and it grows easily from seed. Chef's tip: freeze some as ice cubes to drop into sparkling water.

35 min

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Yaki imoRoasted sweet potato

Yaki imo is the winter street snack of Japan: from November the yaki-imo trucks crawl through Tokyo and Osaka neighbourhoods singing 'ishi-yaki imo' through a loudspeaker, selling Japanese sweet potatoes roasted slowly on hot stones. At home the oven does the job. Long, low heat turns the starch into natural sugars, so the flesh becomes golden, fudgy and almost syrupy, and nothing at all needs adding: no butter, no sugar, no salt. About 0.1 g salt per portion, all of it naturally in the potato. Eat them hot from paper as an afternoon snack or alongside miso soup. The usual mistake is roasting too hot and fast, which cooks the potato but never sweetens it. Chef's tip: the potato is ready when sticky syrup bubbles out of the skin and the whole thing slumps when squeezed with an oven glove.

95 min

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Hiyashi tomatoChilled tomato

Hiyashi tomato is the simplest thing on any Japanese izakaya menu in July and August: ripe tomatoes, chilled until icy, cut into wedges and served on a small plate, sometimes on crushed ice, to cool down a hot evening in Tokyo or Osaka. Many bars sprinkle salt; this home version leaves it out and offers a few drops of rice vinegar and toasted sesame oil instead, so the tomato's own sweetness and acidity do the work. About 0.0 g added salt; roughly 0.03 g per portion occurs naturally in the tomato. The usual mistake is using hard, pale supermarket tomatoes: this dish is only as good as the fruit, so buy deep red ones that smell of tomato at the stalk. Chef's tip: chill the plate as well as the tomatoes, so the wedges stay cold to the last bite.

5 min

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SobachaRoasted buckwheat tea

Sobacha is roasted buckwheat tea, drunk all over Japan and especially in the soba country of Nagano and Hokkaido, where it is poured free in noodle shops and kept in jugs in the fridge through summer. Toasted buckwheat groats are steeped in hot water to make a golden, caffeine-free tea with a nutty, almost popcorn aroma, and the softened groats can be eaten too, stirred into rice or salads. Nothing is added: no salt, no sugar, so about 0.0 g salt per cup. The usual mistake is burning the groats when roasting your own; keep the heat at medium and keep the pan moving. Use Tartary buckwheat (dattan soba) for a deeper yellow tea. Anyone with a buckwheat allergy should avoid it, as reactions can be serious. Chef's tip: steep a second time with slightly hotter water; the second cup is often the sweetest.

10 min

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SenmaizukePickled sliced turnip

Senmaizuke is the pickle Kyoto sends home with winter visitors: great white Shogoin turnips, sliced so thin you can read through them, layered in fan shapes with kombu and a mild sweet vinegar. Pickle shops along Nishiki Market start making it in November, when the turnips swell and sweeten in the cold, and it stays on New Year tables and beside winter rice through February. It tastes gently sweet and sour with a deep savoury note from the kombu, which turns slightly sticky and coats each slice; the turnip stays crisp at the edge and silky in the middle. Outside Japan use large, firm white turnips (or a young daikon); avoid woody, spongy ones. The common mistake is skipping the first salting: unsalted slices weep water into the vinegar, dilute it and go limp. Salt them, press for an hour and squeeze gently first. It is ready when the slices are translucent, bend without breaking and the kombu feels slick. It is a fridge pickle, not a shelf one. Chef's tip: slice on a mandoline at 2 mm and keep the slices in order, so you can stack them back into a 'turnip' shape for a pretty presentation.

35 min

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SugukiFermented turnip pickle

Suguki comes from the farms around Kamigamo Shrine in north Kyoto, where an heirloom turnip with a pointed root has been grown for centuries. In late autumn the farmers peel the roots, salt them with their leaves, and press them under long wooden beams weighted with stones, then move the barrels into a heated room so lactic bacteria turn the pickle properly sour. It reaches the shops in December and is sliced thin through the New Year, eaten with plain rice, in ochazuke or beside a simmering pot of tofu. Expect a bright, yoghurt-like sourness, a little salt and a turnip that is firm but yielding. At home a 30–35 °C spot (an oven with only the light on, or a proving setting) stands in for the warm room; use small turnips with leaves attached. The common mistake is fermenting with too little weight: the brine must rise above the vegetables within a day, or the top dries out and moulds. Normal signs are fine bubbles, cloudy brine and a clean sour smell; a thin white film (kahm yeast) can be skimmed. Chef's tip: slice it thin, add a few drops of soy sauce and a pinch of shichimi, and serve it cold.

45 min

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Beni shogaRed pickled ginger

Beni shoga is the bright pink tangle you see on Osaka street food: piled beside yakisoba, scattered on okonomiyaki, folded into takoyaki batter and heaped on a bowl of gyudon at lunchtime. Kansai cooks make it in early summer, when umeboshi plums finish salting and leave behind red umezu, the salty, sour, shiso-coloured plum vinegar that both cures and dyes the ginger. The result is crunchy, sharp and salty, with a clean ginger heat and none of the sweetness of sushi gari. Young summer ginger gives the most tender threads; mature ginger works but is hotter and more fibrous, so cut it thinner. If you cannot find red umezu, use rice vinegar with salt and a slice of raw beetroot for colour (see the note). The common mistake is skipping the salting and drying: wet ginger dilutes the umezu and turns soft and dull. Squeeze it and let it dry so it drinks up the vinegar. It is ready when the threads are evenly rosy right through and taste salty-sour rather than raw. Chef's tip: save the pink vinegar left in the jar; a spoonful in potato salad or rice for onigiri is excellent.

20 min

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HakusaizukeSalted napa cabbage pickle

In Japanese homes from Hokkaido to Kyushu, hakusaizuke appears when napa cabbage is cheap and sweet, from November through February. Big heads are quartered, dried for half a day on a sunny veranda, then salted in a wooden tub with kombu, dried chilli and slivers of yuzu peel, and pressed under a stone. A few days later the leaves are crisp, juicy, lightly salty and fragrant with citrus, and after a week they turn pleasantly sour. It is the everyday pickle beside breakfast rice and miso soup, or chopped into a hot-pot. Use about 3% salt by weight; less and it can spoil, more and it is too salty to enjoy. The common mistake is too light a weight at the start: the brine must rise over the cabbage within a day, so begin with twice the cabbage's weight and halve it once the liquid appears. It is ready when the white ribs are translucent and bend, the brine is clear to faintly cloudy, and it smells fresh and briny. If you cannot get yuzu, use strips of lemon peel with a little orange peel. Chef's tip: squeeze a slice firmly before serving and add a few drops of tamari and some toasted sesame seeds.

30 min

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BettarazukeSweet koji-cured daikon

Every 19 and 20 October, the lanes around Takarada Ebisu Shrine in Nihonbashi fill with stalls for the Bettara-ichi, Tokyo's old pickle fair, where vendors hold up whole daikon dripping with rice koji and passers-by try not to get 'bettari', sticky. The pickle has been an Edo favourite since the 1700s: daikon salted, then buried in amazake, the sweet porridge that koji makes from rice. It tastes mild, sweet and fresh, with a clean crunch and a faint fermented, sake-lees perfume, which makes it a favourite with children and a pause between salty dishes. Bettarazuke is low in salt and acid, so it lives in the fridge from start to finish. The common mistake is adding the daikon while the amazake is still warm: it cooks the surface and softens the crunch, so cool it fully. It is ready when the daikon is translucent at the edges, juicy, and the koji coating tastes sweet with a light tang. Chef's tip: make the amazake in a rice cooker on keep-warm with the lid ajar and a cloth over it, so it holds about 60 °C; a thermometer helps the first time.

55 min

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NozawanazukePickled turnip greens

In the snowy hot-spring village of Nozawa Onsen in northern Nagano, early November is 'onsen washing' time: families carry armfuls of nozawana, a turnip relative with stalks taller than a child, to the steaming public spring to wash them, then salt them in big barrels for winter. The pickle is the region's tea-time snack, set out with green tea for neighbours, and the side for every winter meal. In the first weeks it is bright green, crisp and lightly salty (aozuke); by late winter it ferments to a golden-brown, sour 'ame-iro' stage, which locals chop and fry with sesame oil. Outside Japan use turnip greens, young mustard greens or the stems of komatsuna or choy sum. The common mistake is salting straight from cold water: rinsing in hand-hot water (around 40 °C) for a minute softens the stalks so the salt penetrates evenly. It is ready when the stalks are flexible, a vivid deep green and taste salty, juicy and fresh. Chef's tip: cut it into 3 cm lengths right before serving and toss with a drop of sesame oil and toasted sesame seeds.

40 min

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SunkiFermented turnip greens

Sunki belongs to the high Kiso valley in Nagano, where salt was once too precious to spend on pickles. After the first frosts in November, villagers blanch the leaves and stalks of the red Otaki turnip, layer them in a wooden tub with a handful of last year's dried or frozen sunki as starter, and keep the tub wrapped and warm overnight so lactic bacteria take over. The result is completely unsalted, fiercely sour and earthy, with soft leaves in a rosy brine; it goes on hot soba as sunki soba, into miso soup and over rice. Because there is no salt to protect it, sourness is the only safety: it must become clearly sour within 2 days, and it must stay cold after that. If you have no sunki starter, use 100 ml brine from a live, unpasteurised sauerkraut (a little salt, but a reliable start). The common mistake is blanching with boiling water, which kills everything; the water should be about 70 °C. Normal signs are a pink brine, fine bubbles and a clean sour, yoghurt-like smell; bad signs are fuzzy mould, slime or a putrid smell, which mean discard. Chef's tip: freeze the finished sunki in small portions; it keeps its sourness and you keep a starter for next year.

50 min

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Karashi nasuMustard aubergine pickle

Every late August, Yamagata kitchens fill with the sharp smell of hot mustard as families pickle the tiny round eggplants that grow there, minden-nasu, no bigger than a walnut. Salted, pressed and then coated in a paste of Japanese mustard, sugar and soy sauce, they are eaten whole as a snack with tea, packed into bento boxes and served beside rice through autumn. The first bite is sweet and salty, then the mustard rushes up the nose, and the skins stay a glossy dark purple around a tender, juicy middle. Use the smallest eggplants you can find: Japanese or Thai baby eggplants or small Indian aubergines, around 30–40 g each. The common mistake is mixing mustard powder with hot liquid, which kills its heat; always mix it with cold water and let it rest. It is ready when the eggplants feel soft right through when squeezed, look glossy, and taste hot and sweet rather than raw. Chef's tip: a teaspoon of salt rubbed firmly over the skins before pressing keeps the colour deep purple without the alum that some traditional cooks add.

33 min

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Myoga no amazuzukeSweet pickled myoga ginger

Myoga is the flower bud of a Japanese ginger plant, harvested from the shady corners of gardens across Japan from July to September, and its pickled form is one of summer's small pleasures. Halved buds are blanched and dropped into warm sweet vinegar, and within half an hour the pale purple-white layers blush a vivid pink. They taste crisp and fresh, gently sweet-sour, with the floral, slightly resinous bite that makes myoga unlike ordinary ginger. Serve them beside grilled fish, with cold somen noodles on a hot evening, or tucked into a bento. Look for myoga in Japanese grocers, often frozen; there is no real substitute, but young ginger or small shallots pickled the same way make a pleasing alternative. The common mistake is over-blanching: past 30 seconds the layers turn soft and floppy and lose their crunch. Pour the vinegar over while the buds are still hot, which sets the colour. They are ready when they are evenly pink and taste sour-sweet right through. Chef's tip: slice a few pickled buds into thin strips and fold them into sushi rice for a quick summer chirashi.

15 min

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Kyuri no shoyuzukeSoy-pickled cucumber

When summer gardens across Japan produce more cucumbers than anyone can eat, grandmothers make this: thick cucumber rounds scalded in a pot of soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, ginger and chilli, then left to soak. It appears in July and August beside white rice and miso soup, rolled into onigiri, and on the table at rural inns as the small dish everyone reaches for. It is deeply savoury, a little sweet, with a ginger and chilli warmth and a surprising snap, because the cucumbers are drained and scalded again instead of simmered. The common mistake is boiling the cucumbers in the liquid: they go soft and olive-coloured. Instead, pour the boiling liquid over, drain it off, reheat it, and pour it back, twice; each round draws out water and keeps the crunch. They are ready when the rounds are glossy dark brown, slightly wrinkled at the edges and crunchy right through. Use firm, small-seeded cucumbers such as Japanese or Lebanese; large salad cucumbers with big seeds go soggy. Chef's tip: add a strip of kombu in the last round and a handful of toasted sesame seeds when you serve, for deeper flavour.

30 min

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HariharizukeDried daikon pickle

Hariharizuke takes its name from the sound it makes, 'hari-hari', as you chew. It starts with kiriboshi daikon, the radish strips dried in the cold winter sun across Miyazaki and much of rural Japan, which are rehydrated and steeped in a sharp, slightly sweet soy-vinegar with ribbons of kombu and a little chilli. It is a year-round side dish, but home cooks lean on it in late winter and early spring when fresh vegetables are fewer, packing it into bento boxes or setting it beside grilled fish and rice. The taste is sweet-sour and savoury, with a concentrated, almost caramel daikon flavour, and the texture is springy and crunchy. The common mistake is soaking the dried daikon too long: after 10–15 minutes it is pliable, and beyond that it turns soft and loses its crunch. It is ready when the strips are glossy, tan and taste seasoned right through, about an hour after mixing, and even better the next day. Look for dried daikon in Japanese or Korean shops (Korean mumallaengi is the same thing). Chef's tip: add the carrot in very fine matchsticks and a few drops of sesame oil just before serving for colour and aroma.

28 min

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Yuzu koshoYuzu and chilli paste

In the mountain villages of Kyushu, especially Oita and Fukuoka, families make yuzu kosho in late summer, when yuzu are still green and the chillies are at their hottest (in Kyushu dialect 'kosho' means chilli, not pepper). Zest and chillies are ground with salt in a suribachi until they turn into a bright, coarse paste, then left to mature for a week or more. A tiny dab lifts hot-pot, grilled chicken or fish, sashimi, miso soup and even a bowl of udon; it is intensely citrusy, salty and hot all at once. It is a fresh chilli paste, so it lives in the fridge or the freezer, never on the shelf, and the salt (about 15% of the paste) is what keeps it. The common mistake is grating into the white pith, which makes it bitter; take only the thin green layer. It is ready when the paste is fine, moist and evenly coloured and the raw chilli edge has softened into a rounded heat, after about a week. No yuzu? Use the zest of green limes with a little lemon, or sudachi or kabosu. Wear gloves when you handle the chillies. Chef's tip: ripe yellow yuzu with red chillies makes the orange version for winter; same method.

30 min

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Shio kojiSalted rice koji

Shio koji is an old Tohoku pickling medium that swept Japanese home kitchens in the 2010s and never left. Rice koji, the grains cultured with the mould that also makes miso and sake, is rubbed with salt, covered with water and left on the counter for a week. Its enzymes break down starch and protein, so the result is a pale, porridge-like seasoning that tastes salty, mildly sweet and deeply savoury, with a fruity, sake-like scent. Use it all year in place of salt: rub it over chicken, pork or fish (about 10% of the weight) the night before grilling, toss it with vegetables for a quick overnight pickle, or stir it into dressings and soups. The common mistake is too little water: the grains must stay just covered, or the top dries and can grow mould. Stir once a day with a clean spoon and top up with a little water if needed. It is ready when the grains crush easily between your fingers, the mixture is thick and creamy, and it smells sweet rather than raw. A faint alcohol smell is normal. Chef's tip: blend the finished shio koji smooth with a stick blender; it spreads more evenly on meat and won't burn in spots.

15 min

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Temae misoHomemade miso

Temae miso means 'my own miso', and the phrase also means bragging about your own work, because every family thinks theirs is the best. Across rural Japan the cold months of January and February are miso-making season: the low temperatures let the mash settle in slowly before summer's warmth speeds up the fermentation. Dried soybeans are soaked, simmered until soft, mashed, mixed with rice koji and salt, then packed tightly into a crock under a salt cap and a weight. By autumn it has turned from pale beige to reddish brown, sweet-salty and rich, with a rounder, fruitier flavour than shop miso. The salt, about 12% of the finished weight, is what keeps it safe, so measure it rather than guessing. The common mistake is leaving air pockets when packing, which is where mould grows; throw the mash into the container in balls and press each one down hard. It is ready when it smells sweet and savoury like soy sauce, tastes well-balanced rather than raw and floury, and dark liquid (tamari) has pooled on top. Chef's tip: make it with friends; a kilo of beans is a lot of mashing, and the batch tastes better for the company.

300 min

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Kinzanji misoChunky barley miso

Kinzanji miso is not for soup. It is a chunky, sweet-savoury 'name-miso', a miso you eat straight, spooned onto hot rice, tucked into a cucumber stick or set beside rice porridge at breakfast. Legend says a monk brought the method from Jingshan Temple in China to Yuasa in Wakayama, where the run-off liquid became Japan's first soy sauce. Traditionally it is made in summer, when aubergines and uri melons are plentiful, and eaten through autumn and winter. You can see every ingredient: soft barley grains, nutty roasted soybean pieces, little cubes of aubergine and cucumber, threads of ginger, all bound in a glossy brown paste. This home version uses ready-made barley koji. The common mistake is adding the vegetables wet; salt them, then squeeze hard, or the extra water thins the salt and invites spoilage. It is ready when the barley grains are soft, the mix smells sweet and soy-like, and it tastes rich and rounded, after about four weeks; then it is sweetened and kept cold. Japanese melon (shirouri) is traditional; firm cucumber is the usual substitute. Chef's tip: a spoonful on a cold block of tofu with a little chopped spring onion is the best snack you can make in 30 seconds.

105 min

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Izumo warigo sobaBuckwheat noodles in stacked bowls

Izumo, in Shimane, is home to one of Japan's oldest shrines, and its soba is among the country's three most famous. The buckwheat is ground whole, husk and all, so the noodles are grey-brown, rough and strongly nutty. They come in a stack of three shallow round lacquer boxes called warigo, a custom from the picnic boxes Izumo townspeople carried to view flowers in the Edo period. You don't dip the noodles: you pour sauce and toppings straight onto the top bowl, eat it, then tip what's left onto the next. Classic toppings are grated daikon, spring onion and nori; ours leave out the usual bonito flakes. Chef's tip: look for 'inaka' (country-style) or 100% buckwheat soba. Paler noodles taste too mild for this dish.

25 min

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Umibudo saladSea grapes salad

Umibudo, 'sea grapes', is a seaweed farmed in the warm, clear waters around Okinawa and Miyako island. Its tiny green beads burst in the mouth with a salty, oceanic pop, which is why Okinawans also call it green caviar. It's served as a starter in island izakaya, often next to a cold Orion beer, either plain with a dish of citrus soy or piled on a simple salad. Look for it vacuum-packed in salt at Japanese grocers; it keeps for weeks unopened. Chef's tip: dress the salad, not the sea grapes. Pour the dressing on the greens and dip the sea grapes as you eat, because vinegar and soy make the beads shrivel within minutes.

15 min

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Fu champuruWheat gluten and cabbage stir-fry

Champuru means 'mixed up' in Okinawan and is the islands' everyday stir-fry. Goya champuru with bitter melon is the famous one; fu champuru, made with chewy wheat gluten, is the gentle, child-friendly version many Okinawan families cook several times a week. The fu, large dried rings called kurumabu, is soaked, squeezed and dipped in beaten egg, so as it fries it turns soft, fluffy and golden, a little like French toast. Home cooks often add luncheon meat; ours is vegetarian, with shiitake for savouriness. Serve with rice and miso soup. Chef's tip: squeeze the soaked fu hard before adding the egg. Dry fu drinks up all the egg; wet fu turns soggy.

25 min

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Sata andagiOkinawan doughnuts

In the Okinawan language, sata andagi simply means 'sugar deep-fried'. These round doughnuts came from Chinese sweets brought to the old Ryukyu kingdom and have been a family treat on the islands for centuries, made for celebrations and sold warm in paper bags at Naha's Makishi market. They are dense and cakey inside with a thick, crunchy crust, and as they fry they split open into a shape Okinawans call a smile, a sign of good luck. Okinawa's dark kokuto sugar gives them a caramel flavour; brown sugar works too. Chef's tip: fry in oil that is only warm, about 150°C. Slow frying lets the balls cook through and crack open, while hot oil seals them shut and leaves the middle raw.

40 min

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Okinawan taco rice (vegetarian)

Taco rice was invented in 1984 in the town of Kin, Okinawa, next to a large US Marine base, by a café owner who put taco fillings on rice to make a cheap, filling plate for young soldiers. It became one of Okinawa's best-loved comfort foods and now turns up in school lunches, convenience stores and beach cafés across the islands. The usual filling is spiced minced beef; Okinawan cafés also offer bean versions, and ours uses kidney beans and walnuts for the same crumbly bite. Serve it with hot sauce and eat it from one bowl, mixing as you go. Chef's tip: cook the filling until it's almost dry. A juicy filling soaks the rice and the cheese won't melt into it properly.

30 min

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Imo kenpiCandied sweet potato sticks

Kagoshima, at Kyushu's southern tip, is Japan's sweet potato heartland. The crop is so closely tied to the region that the Japanese word for sweet potato, satsuma-imo, means 'Satsuma potato', after the old name of Kagoshima. Imo kenpi are its simplest snack: thin batons of sweet potato fried until crisp, then tossed in a syrup that sets into a glassy shell. Kids grab them from bags at the corner shop, and grandparents make them at home with the autumn harvest. They are crunchy, sweet and a little salty. Chef's tip: fry the potato twice, slowly first, then hot. That drives out the water and gives a snap that lasts for days.

40 min

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Nagasaki castellaHoney sponge cake

Castella arrived in Nagasaki with Portuguese traders in the 16th century, when the port was Japan's only window to Europe, and the name probably comes from 'pão de Castela', bread from Castile. Over 400 years Nagasaki's bakers turned it into something their own: a tall, fine-crumbed sponge made only of eggs, sugar, flour and honey, with a dark, sticky top and a layer of crunchy zarame sugar crystals at the bottom. It's still sold in long wooden boxes at old shops near the harbour and given as a formal gift. Cut it into neat slices and serve with green tea. Chef's tip: wrap the cake in cling film while still warm and rest it overnight. Its moist, springy texture develops as it rests.

75 min

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Ehime mikan jellyMandarin jelly

Ehime, on the sunny north coast of Shikoku, is Japan's mandarin country. Terraced orchards climb its hillsides above the Seto Inland Sea, and the local mikan is so central to life there that some towns joke their taps run with juice. Mikan jelly is the prefecture's everyday treat, sold in cups at service stations and made at home when the fruit glut comes in winter. Ours is set with kanten (agar) instead of gelatine, which also means it holds firm at room temperature and doesn't melt on a hot day. Serve chilled after dinner. Chef's tip: boil the agar properly for 2 minutes. Agar only sets once fully dissolved, and undercooked agar leaves a grainy, weak jelly.

20 min

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Homemade fresh yubaFresh tofu skin

Yuba is the thin skin that forms on soy milk as it heats, and in Kyoto and the temple town of Nikko it is a delicacy in its own right. Workshops in Kyoto's old streets have made it for centuries for monks' shojin ryori, the Buddhist vegetarian cuisine that relied on it for protein. Fresh yuba is soft, creamy and faintly sweet, and the first sheets of the day, eaten warm with a drop of soy, are prized above all. It needs patience rather than skill: just a wide pan, gentle heat and good soy milk. Serve as a starter with wasabi soy, or roll the sheets and slice them. Chef's tip: use unsweetened soy milk with at least 7% protein (check the label). Thin supermarket drinks won't form a skin.

45 min

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Kamatama udonUdon with raw egg

Kagawa, the smallest prefecture in Japan, eats more udon than anywhere else, and its Sanuki udon is known for a firm, springy bite. Locals queue at self-service udon shops at breakfast, and one of the most popular orders is kamatama: noodles lifted straight from the boiling pot, dropped onto a raw egg and tossed until the heat turns the egg into a glossy coating, a little like carbonara. A splash of soy sauce and some spring onion are all it needs. Use frozen Sanuki-style udon, which is closest to fresh. Chef's tip: warm the bowls and crack the egg in first. The noodles must go in seconds after leaving the water, or the egg won't cook into a sauce.

10 min

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Sapporo soup curry

Sapporo's soup curry was born in the city's cafés in the 1970s and became a craze in the 2000s, when hundreds of small shops opened across Hokkaido's capital, each letting you pick a heat level from 1 to 30. It is nothing like the thick roux curry most of Japan knows: the broth is as thin as soup, aromatic with cumin, cardamom and garlic, and the vegetables arrive large and separately roasted, so each keeps its own colour and bite. Locals eat it in the long Hokkaido winter with a plate of rice on the side, taking a spoonful of rice and dunking it into the broth. Chef's tip: roast or fry the vegetables apart from the broth and only meet them in the bowl. The contrast of crisp-edged vegetables and hot, loose broth is the whole point.

65 min

Japanese Curries

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Momiji manjuMaple leaf sponge cakes

Momiji manju are the souvenir of Miyajima, the sacred island off Hiroshima famous for its floating red torii gate and its maple trees, which turn scarlet each November. A confectioner there first baked them around 1906, and today shops along the island's main street still turn them out of iron moulds while visitors watch. The cake is a soft, honey-scented sponge, the filling smooth red bean paste. Tokyo's Asakusa sells a near twin, ningyo-yaki, baked in the shapes of dolls and temple lanterns; this recipe makes both, depending on your mould. Serve with green tea. Chef's tip: rest the batter for 30 minutes before baking. The flour hydrates, the bubbles settle and the cakes come out smooth and evenly brown.

40 min

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WarabimochiBracken starch jelly with soybean flour

Warabimochi is Kyoto's summer sweet. Made from the starch of bracken fern roots, it is not really mochi at all but a clear, wobbly jelly that melts on the tongue, and on hot afternoons teahouses around Gion and Arashiyama serve it chilled on ice. It is dusted with kinako, a nutty roasted soybean flour, and finished with kuromitsu, a dark syrup of Okinawan brown sugar. Real warabi starch is costly and greyish-brown, so most home cooks buy warabimochi-ko, a blend with sweet potato or tapioca starch, which gives a clearer jelly. Chef's tip: keep stirring hard once it turns clear. Two more minutes of beating over the heat is what makes it springy rather than gluey.

25 min

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Kyoto takiawaseSimmered vegetables

Obanzai is what Kyoto calls its everyday home cooking: thrifty, seasonal side dishes that families keep in the fridge and that small restaurants line up in bowls along the counter. Takiawase, 'simmered together', is one of its finest. Each vegetable is cooked separately in a pale, delicate broth, so the kabocha stays orange, the daikon turns translucent and the carrot keeps its colour, then they are arranged side by side in one dish. Kyoto cooks season with light-coloured usukuchi soy, which is saltier than regular soy but doesn't darken the food. Serve it warm or at room temperature with rice and miso soup. Chef's tip: let everything cool in its broth. The vegetables soak up most of their flavour as they cool, not while they boil.

55 min

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YudofuSimmered tofu hot pot

Yudofu is the simplest dish in Kyoto and one of the most loved. The city's soft water makes fine tofu, and the restaurants around Nanzen-ji temple in the Higashiyama hills have served it to pilgrims for centuries as part of Buddhist vegetarian cooking. A block of tofu is warmed in an earthenware pot over a sheet of kombu and lifted out with a little slotted ladle, then dipped in citrusy soy with spring onion and ginger. It's a winter dish, best eaten slowly at the table on a cold evening. Chef's tip: never let the water boil. The tofu is ready when it trembles and starts to rise; boiling makes it spongy and full of holes.

50 min

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Vegetable kushikatsuBreaded vegetable skewers

Kushikatsu belongs to Shinsekai, the neon-lit old entertainment district at the foot of Osaka's Tsutenkaku tower. Since the 1920s, labourers have stood at its counters eating skewers fried to order, dunked in a shared steel pot of thin, fruity sauce. The famous house rule, 'no double dipping', is printed on signs everywhere. Vegetables are as popular as meat there: lotus root, shiitake, onion, asparagus and, a local favourite, chewy mochi and cheese. Have a plate of raw cabbage leaves on the side; they're free at every shop and used to scoop extra sauce. Chef's tip: use fine panko, or blitz ordinary panko briefly. Fine crumbs give the thin, crunchy jacket that Osaka shops are known for.

50 min

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OyakiStuffed steamed dumplings

Oyaki are the everyday snack of Nagano's mountain villages, where rice was scarce and wheat and buckwheat grew better. The plump dumplings are filled with whatever the season gives: pickled nozawana greens in winter, aubergine and miso in summer, sweet squash in autumn. Old farmhouses baked them in the ashes of the irori hearth; today they are browned in a pan and steamed, so they come out crusty on both faces with a soft, chewy middle. They travel well, which made them the lunch of farmers and hikers on the trails around Zenkoji temple. Chef's tip: let the dough rest for at least 30 minutes. A relaxed dough stretches thin around the filling without tearing.

65 min

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Shinshu soba with spicy daikon dip

Nagano, the old province of Shinshu, grows buckwheat on cool mountain plateaux, and its soba is famous across Japan. In the castle town of Takato, and in the Aizu villages that took the custom with them, the noodles are not dipped in sweet soy sauce at all. Instead each diner gets a cup of juice squeezed from grated, eye-wateringly hot daikon, stirred with toasted miso. The result is sharp, clean and peppery, and it wakes up the earthy buckwheat. It's a summer lunch, eaten cold with a sprinkle of spring onion. Chef's tip: grate the daikon only just before serving. Its heat fades within 20 minutes, and the dish depends on that fresh bite.

25 min

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Hoba misoMiso grilled on magnolia leaf

In the old mountain town of Takayama, in Gifu's Hida region, inns serve breakfast with a small charcoal brazier on the table and a dried magnolia leaf, hoba, resting on its grill. On it sits a mound of miso mixed with leek and mushrooms. As the leaf warms, the miso bubbles and gives off a smoky, woodsy smell, and you scoop it up with rice. It started as farmhouse winter food, when people toasted frozen pickles on leaves to thaw them. Dried hoba leaves are sold in Japanese shops and online; a sheet of baking paper works too, without the scent. Chef's tip: soak the leaf in water first. A damp leaf scorches slowly and perfumes the miso instead of catching fire.

23 min

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Kakiage sobaBuckwheat noodles with vegetable tempura

In Tokyo, hot soba with a fritter on top is the city's fast food. Standing soba counters near train stations, called tachigui soba, have served it to commuters since the Edo period, when soba and tempura stalls stood side by side. The fritter here is kakiage: a loose nest of onion, carrot and greens held together with just enough batter to fry into a lacy disc. It softens a little in the broth and flavours it with toasty oil, which is why many Tokyoites eat half of it crisp and let the rest soak. Our broth uses kombu and shiitake instead of bonito. Chef's tip: slide the kakiage into the oil off a flat spatula or ladle, and don't touch it for the first minute. It needs that time to set, or it falls apart.

40 min

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MonjayakiGriddled cabbage and batter

Monjayaki comes from Tsukishima, a small island district in Tokyo Bay, where one street holds more than seventy monja restaurants. It began as a cheap after-school snack at sweet shops, with children writing letters in thin batter on a griddle. Today friends gather round a teppan table, build a ring of chopped cabbage, pour the runny batter into the middle and eat it with tiny spatulas while it is still molten. It never sets into a pancake like okonomiyaki: the texture is gooey, with crisp, toasty bits where it sticks to the plate. Our version leaves out the usual dried shrimp and uses mochi and cheese, a favourite Tsukishima combination. Chef's tip: press a little monja against the hot griddle with your spatula and wait until it crackles. That crisp layer, called the okoge, is the best bite.

27 min

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Zunda mochiRice dumplings with edamame paste

Zunda is Sendai's signature sweet: young green soybeans mashed with sugar into a coarse, pale-green paste. Farmers in Miyagi made it at the end of summer, when edamame were at their best, and it is still sold everywhere from Sendai station's souvenir halls to small tea shops, now also as zunda shakes and rolls. The flavour is gentle, beany and fresh, closer to sweet peas than to red bean paste. Spoon it over warm, chewy rice dumplings and serve with green tea. Chef's tip: rub the skins off the cooked beans. It takes ten minutes but turns the paste from dull khaki to a vivid jade colour.

35 min

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Hokkaido butter cornButtered sweetcorn

Hokkaido grows most of Japan's sweetcorn, and in late summer roadside stands around Sapporo and Furano sell cobs so sweet people eat them raw. Butter corn is how the island turns that harvest into a side dish: kernels hissing in a hot pan with Hokkaido's other pride, butter, and finished with soy sauce until the edges catch. You'll find it as a ramen topping, a beer snack in izakaya and a bento filler. Serve it hot beside grilled vegetables or rice. Chef's tip: let the kernels sit in the pan without stirring for a minute at a time. A few browned, almost toasted kernels give the dish its nutty, popcorn-like smell.

10 min

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Matcha latte

Matcha (抹茶) is finely ground green tea from Uji, near Kyoto, the heart of Japanese tea-growing for centuries. A matcha latte (抹茶ラテ) is the café version: the powder is whisked to a smooth, frothy shot, then topped up with steamed milk and lightly sweetened. It tastes grassy, creamy and gently bitter. Use any milk you like; oat milk froths especially well. Chef's tip: keep the water at about 80°C. Boiling water scorches matcha and makes it bitter; let the kettle stand for 2–3 minutes after boiling before you pour.

7 min

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OmuriceOmelette-wrapped fried rice

Omurice (オムライス) is a yōshoku dish, Western-style Japanese food, said to have been invented at a Tokyo restaurant around 1900. Tangy ketchup fried rice is wrapped in a thin, soft omelette and topped with more ketchup. Chicken is usual inside; this vegetarian version uses mushrooms, sweetcorn, peas and onion. A favourite with children, and on the table in half an hour. Chef's tip: pull the pan off the heat while the top of the omelette is still a little runny; it finishes cooking from the heat of the rice, and stays soft and silky as in a Tokyo yōshoku diner.

30 min

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Takikomi gohanRice cooked with mushrooms and carrot

Takikomi gohan (炊き込みご飯) is mixed rice cooked in one pot with seasonal vegetables and a savoury broth, made in homes across Japan, especially in autumn when mushrooms and chestnuts are in season. Every grain soaks up the soy, mirin and mushroom flavour, and the bottom forms a prized toasty crust (okoge). This vegetarian version uses a kombu and shiitake dashi. Serve it with miso soup and pickles, or pack it into onigiri the next day. Chef's tip: never stir once the vegetables are on top, and don't lift the lid while it cooks. The heavy vegetables would sink and the rice cook unevenly; leaving it alone also gives you the toasty okoge crust at the bottom.

50 min

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Vegetable onigiriRice balls with vegetables

Onigiri (おにぎり) are Japan's everyday lunchbox and picnic food, sold in every convenience store from Tokyo to Kyushu. Warm rice is pressed around a salty or savoury filling and wrapped in a strip of crisp nori. This recipe gives three vegetarian fillings: sour umeboshi (pickled plum), sweet-salty simmered kombu, and a soy-glazed mushroom and carrot mix. Children love helping to shape them, and they keep well for a packed lunch. Chef's tip: use freshly cooked, still-warm rice and salt your hands, not the rice. The grains stick together only while warm, and the salt on the outside seasons every bite the way a Japanese mother would.

30 min

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Tofu katsu curry

Katsu curry (カツカレー) is a favourite in canteens and curry houses across Japan, first served in Tokyo's Ginza in the 1940s. A crunchy breaded cutlet is sliced and laid over rice, then half of it is smothered in thick, mild curry sauce, so you get crisp and saucy bites. Here firm tofu replaces the pork. It is a little more work than plain curry rice, but children love it. Chef's tip: fry the katsu at the last minute and pour the curry over only half of it, so you always keep some crunch; Japanese curry houses serve it exactly this way.

45 min

Japanese Curries

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Japanese curry rice

Japanese curry rice (カレーライス) arrived in Japan from Britain via the navy in the late 1800s and is now a national comfort food, cooked in homes from Hokkaido to Okinawa. It is nothing like an Indian curry: the sauce is thick, glossy and mild, made with a roux of butter, flour and curry powder, and sweetened with grated apple. This vegetarian version is packed with potato, carrot, onion and mushrooms. It tastes even better the next day, and children love it. Chef's tip: take the onions all the way to a deep golden brown before anything else goes in. Japanese home cooks swear by this step, as the caramelised onion gives the curry its rounded sweetness.

50 min

Japanese Curries

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Yaki udonStir-fried udon noodles

Yaki udon (焼うどん) was first made in Kitakyushu, in northern Kyushu, just after the war, when a café owner ran out of soba for yakisoba and fried udon instead. The thick, chewy noodles are tossed in a hot pan with cabbage, onion, mushrooms and carrot, then glazed with soy, mirin and a little vegetarian Worcestershire-style sauce. Meat is usual in Japan; this vegetarian version gets its richness from shiitake and a fried egg on top. A fast, filling weeknight supper. Chef's tip: get the pan really hot and leave the noodles alone for 30 seconds at a time, so they pick up slightly charred edges; that smoky 'koge' is what makes yaki udon taste like the street-stall version.

20 min

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Kitsune udonUdon with fried tofu

Kitsune udon (きつねうどん, 'fox udon') comes from Osaka, where a noodle shop first floated a sheet of sweet simmered fried tofu on a bowl of udon in the 1890s. The name comes from the folk tale that foxes love fried tofu. Soft, chewy noodles sit in a pale, gently sweet broth, and the tofu soaks up the soup like a sponge. This version uses a kombu and shiitake dashi instead of bonito, so it is fully vegetarian. Chef's tip: let the sweet tofu cool in its simmering liquid if you have time; as it cools it drinks up the sauce, so every bite bursts with sweet soy juice in the hot broth.

25 min

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Hiyashi chukaChilled ramen noodles with toppings

Hiyashi chuka (冷やし中華) is Japan's summer noodle dish: shops all over the country hang up a 'hiyashi chuka hajimemashita' (we've started serving it) sign when the hot weather arrives. Cold, springy ramen noodles are topped with neat strips of thin omelette, cucumber, tomato and other vegetables, then dressed with a tangy soy, vinegar and sesame sauce. This vegetarian version uses sweetcorn and seasoned tofu in place of the usual ham. Fresh, light and ready in under half an hour. Chef's tip: rinse the noodles until they squeak and are truly cold, then shake them dry; any warmth or water left on them makes the dressing taste flat.

25 min

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Vegetable miso ramen

Miso ramen was born in Sapporo, Hokkaido, and is now eaten all over Japan. This vegetarian version builds a deep broth from kombu and dried shiitake instead of pork bones, then thickens it with miso and toasted sesame paste. A pile of quickly stir-fried cabbage, bean sprouts, carrot and sweetcorn goes on top with a soft-boiled egg. Slurp it while it's piping hot on a cold day. Chef's tip: fry the miso paste for a minute in the hot wok with the garlic and ginger before it meets the broth, as Sapporo shops do; the toasted miso gives the soup its deep, roasted flavour.

35 min

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Japanese cheesecake

Japanese soufflé cheesecake (スフレチーズケーキ) is soft, airy and barely sweet, somewhere between a cheesecake and a chiffon sponge, and it wobbles when it comes out of the oven. It became popular in Japanese bakeries in the 1960s and later spread from Osaka and Fukuoka shops around the world. Cream cheese is folded with stiffly whipped meringue and baked slowly in a water bath so it rises without cracking. It takes patience, but the result melts in the mouth. Chef's tip: whip the meringue only to soft-to-medium peaks and bake low and slow in the water bath. Over-whipped egg whites and a hot oven are the two reasons this cake cracks and then collapses.

100 min

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DorayakiHoney pancakes with sweet bean filling

Dorayaki (どら焼き) are two small, golden honey pancakes pressed around a thick layer of sweet red bean paste (anko). They were first sold in their modern form by a Tokyo sweet shop in the early 1900s, and are now in every Japanese bakery and convenience store. The pancakes are soft, moist and slightly springy, with a deep brown, even surface. A good afternoon treat with green tea, and children love them. Chef's tip: wipe the pan almost dry of oil and keep the heat low. That's how Japanese sweet shops get the smooth, evenly brown 'gong' surface (dora means gong); too much oil gives a blotchy, spotted pancake.

40 min

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Edamame with sea salt

Edamame (枝豆) are young green soybeans cooked in their pods, the classic snack with a cold drink in izakaya and beer gardens all over Japan, especially in summer. You squeeze the beans straight from the salty pod into your mouth. Rubbing the pods with salt before boiling seasons them through and keeps them bright green. They're a good source of plant protein too. Chef's tip: rub the pods with salt before boiling, as izakaya cooks do. It scrubs off the fuzz, keeps the pods bright green and seasons the beans inside.

8 min

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Horenso goma-aeSpinach with sesame dressing

Horenso no goma-ae (ほうれん草の胡麻和え) is one of the most common side dishes in Japanese home cooking and bento boxes. Spinach is blanched for a few seconds, squeezed dry and tossed in a nutty dressing of freshly toasted, crushed sesame seeds with soy and a little sugar. Toasting and grinding the seeds yourself makes all the difference. Serve as one of several small dishes with rice and miso soup. Chef's tip: toast and grind the sesame yourself just before mixing. Ready-ground sesame tastes flat; freshly ground seeds smell like roasted nuts and give the dish its rich flavour.

10 min

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SunomonoCucumber and wakame salad

Sunomono (酢の物, 'vinegared things') are small, refreshing dishes served alongside rice and richer food in homes all over Japan. This one, kyūri to wakame no sunomono, is the most common: paper-thin salted cucumber and wakame seaweed in a sweet, gentle rice-vinegar dressing. It cuts through fried food like tempura or gyoza. Ready in ten minutes, and best eaten chilled. Chef's tip: salt the cucumber and squeeze it hard. It draws out the water so the slices turn pleasantly crunchy and drink up the dressing instead of diluting it.

10 min

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Goya champuruBitter melon stir-fry

Goya champuru (ゴーヤーチャンプルー) is the best-known dish of Okinawa, Japan's southern islands, where bitter melon (goya) grows on vines in summer. Champuru means 'mixed up' in the Okinawan language: slices of goya are stir-fried with firm tofu and egg, and the bitterness is balanced by soy and the richness of the egg. Pork or Spam is usual; this vegetarian version relies on well-browned tofu. Serve with rice. Chef's tip: scrape out every bit of the white pith from inside the goya. That's where most of the harsh bitterness lives, so a clean scrape gives you the pleasant, refreshing bitterness Okinawans love.

20 min

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TamagoyakiRolled omelette

Tamagoyaki (卵焼き) is a rolled omelette made in layers, found in breakfast trays and bento boxes all over Japan. Thin sheets of seasoned egg are cooked one at a time and rolled up around each other, giving soft, springy slices with pretty spiral lines. This is the gently sweet home style; a little soy keeps it savoury. A square tamagoyaki pan helps, but a small round frying pan works too. Chef's tip: keep the heat moderate and the pan well oiled between layers. If the egg browns, the heat is too high; a good tamagoyaki is evenly yellow with just a few golden patches.

15 min

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Vegetable tempura

Tempura (天ぷら) became a Tokyo street food in the Edo period, when stalls fried it to order by the city's riverbanks. The secret to the thin, lacy coating is an ice-cold, lumpy batter mixed at the last second and vegetables fried in small batches. Sweet potato, aubergine, pepper, shiitake and green beans all work well. Serve straight from the pan with a light dipping sauce and grated daikon. Chef's tip: keep everything cold. Use ice-cold water, mix the batter only seconds before frying, leave it lumpy, and stand the bowl in a larger bowl of ice. Cold batter hitting hot oil is what makes the lacy, crackly shell that Tokyo tempura masters prize.

35 min

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Vegetable gyoza

Gyoza (餃子) came to Japan from China and became a passion in Utsunomiya, a city north of Tokyo that calls itself the gyoza capital, with a gyoza statue outside the station. These vegetarian dumplings are filled with salted cabbage, shiitake, tofu and garlic chives. They're pan-fried and then steamed, so the bottoms turn crisp and golden while the tops stay soft. Shape a big batch and freeze some for later. Chef's tip: squeeze the salted cabbage really hard. Watery filling makes soggy, torn gyoza; a dry filling keeps the wrappers sealed and the bottoms crisp.

60 min

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Hiroshima okonomiyakiLayered cabbage and noodle pancake

Hiroshima okonomiyaki (広島風お好み焼き) is built in layers rather than mixed: a thin crêpe, a tall heap of cabbage and bean sprouts, a layer of fried noodles and a fried egg, all pressed together on the griddle. It's the city's signature dish, and Hiroshima has hundreds of small okonomiyaki counters. Pork belly is the usual layer; this vegetarian version leaves it out and adds mushrooms. Take your time with the layering; it's worth it. Chef's tip: shred the cabbage as finely as you can and pile it high; it looks far too much, but it steams down by half under the crêpe, and that sweet, soft cabbage is the heart of the Hiroshima style.

40 min