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Vegetarian Japanese recipes

Noodles, rice bowls, tofu and vegetable dishes without meat or fish. (209 recipes)

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 minJapaneseDrinksVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseDrinksVegan
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseDrinksVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseDrinksVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseSnacks & StartersVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseSaladsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseDrinksVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganSpicy
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVegan
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVegan
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVeganGluten freeSpicy
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseBasicsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseBasicsVeganGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseChutneys & DipsVegan
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapanesePasta & NoodlesVegan
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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 minJapaneseSaladsVegan
by KrazyBadal 0 views

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