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REI left with the words, “Don’t say a vague time like next time, let’s get right to the fun tomorrow!”
Once he returned home, Kon and I both made our way to the kitchen, racking our brains for ideas about what we should do with the leftover plum syrup for tomorrow. What I wanted to eat most—what I wanted to make most—was jello, but plum jello without plum pulp or plums inside had no soul in my opinion. Ideally, you’d want the delectable plums that had gotten soft and sweet after being preserved in syrup—the type you’d soak in plum liqueur. Without it, plum jello wouldn’t be plum jello, and I was extremely reluctant about making it.
For a while, I wrestled with this conundrum in my head and eventually decided that I’d make jello after my homemade syrup and plums were ready.
Which meant that fruit punch was my next best option, but honestly, it was such a simple recipe that I didn’t even need preparations ahead of time. Cut fruits, pour on sparkling water, and drizzle on plum syrup to preference. Done. If I wanted to add shiratama dango, I would have to prepare that, but it was also something you’d want to make just before you eat it. Making it now in preparation for our plum syrup party tomorrow wouldn’t make sense.
Even with plum syrup and yogurt, you only had to mix the two. There honestly wasn’t much to do. So…
“In that case, I guess the only thing I can think of is noshi ume…” I muttered out loud subconsciously as I thought long and hard about our options.
Kon didn’t miss it. He was sitting in his usual chair as he tilted his head and asked, “What’s noshi ume?”
I blinked. “Hm? You don’t know it? Well, noshi ume is a kind of traditional Japanese confectionery, and it’s like…” I searched for the right words. “Thin and flat slices of plum jello? Well, technically it’s not jello, but it’s something similar… Oh, I got it, you can think of it as a plum syrup version of yōkan. Normally, yōkan is made with red bean paste, agar, and sugar, but you replace the red bean with the syrup for noshi ume.”
It seemed that he still couldn’t picture the confectionery after hearing my description, because Kon inclined his head even more in confusion. In fact, he was inclining his head so far that I was afraid he’d topple over.
I scratched my head sheepishly. “Ah, yeah, it can be a bit hard to imagine. Well, it’s probably faster if you see it for yourself, so I’ll give it a go.”
Wasting no time, I dived into the preparations immediately.
Noshi ume is a relatively simple recipe. Of course, if you want something that’s as beautiful and mouthwatering as the ones you see in a store, you’ll need the skills of a professional. But if all you want is relatively good taste and appearance, the bar isn’t all that high.
First, prepare agar powder to thicken your mixture. You have the option of starting from agar sticks, but it’s relatively complicated to use because you have to rehydrate it, simmer it, and skim the scum. Using the agar powder readily available on the market will save you a lot of trouble, which is what I do.
Fill a pot with water and heat until it boils. Add agar powder and mix well. Do note that you have to mix very well during this step—you could even use a whisk.
I was the type of person who likes taking the easy path whenever I could, so I used a whisk to beat the mixture furiously in one go.
Add a small amount of sugar and mix well until it dissolves. Pour in the plum syrup. Turn to low heat and simmer. You’ll want to simmer your mixture slowly and steadily for roughly ten minutes. Simmering brings out the distinct flavors of agar and the nice, chewy texture. Adjust the heat so that you don’t evaporate too much water during this process.
Fetch another pot and slowly heat mizuame—a Japanese sweetener made from starch—over low heat. Pour the plum syrup agar mixture into the melted mizuame. Stir thoroughly with a wooden spatula. Pour the resulting mixture into a mold—you’ll want a confectionery mold with cuboid shapes, the type you’d use for yōkan. Chill the mixture in the fridge. Once it hardens, your sweet and sour noshi ume is ready to eat.
You can also add a few touches to spice things up a bit. For example, when you pour the plum syrup into the sugary agar mixture, you can add in small plums or plum pulp. The sweetness in plain noshi ume can be slightly overpowering because you add sugar and mizuame, so the addition of plums will help balance it out for those who don’t like your confectionery to be too sweet. I think agar and plum pulp have good chemistry together, because the plum also heightens the flavor with a wonderful aroma and gives it more complexity, so if you have the time and resources, this is a very nice optional step.
Though it is a question of taste at the end of the day, so you should do whichever makes you happy. In fact, you could even make two batches of noshi ume—one with shredded plum and one without. Which is what I’m going to do this time.
For those who want to cut down on the sweetness even more, you can opt to forgo the sugar you add to the agar in the beginning, or you can use less mizuame by adding a tiny bit of water to it.
My mind was going on a tangent, but my hands were still busy working. I was in the middle of pouring noshi ume with plum pulp into the second mold. Once I was finished, I placed it into the fridge as well.
There was still enough plum syrup left to make another small batch, but I had to save some for making fruit punch and yogurt tomorrow, so I decided to stop here.
I nodded to myself as I started cleanup. “All right, that’s all for today. We just wait for the mixture to chill and harden, then cut them into thin slices. By the way, dusting some sugar on top of it after it’s ready can add more texture, though it will become sweeter if you do.”
Kon was swallowing his drool audibly as he cried, “Mikura, Mikura! That smelled amaaazing! It must be SO tasty! How long do I have to wait until it’s ready?!”
I didn’t think the smell of simmering agar was that appetizing, but it appeared that Kon felt differently. Possibly because of the sweet-and-sour aroma that had followed, he simply couldn’t stop drooling, his stomach completely invested in this new confectionery.
Unfortunately, I had some cruel news for him. “Well, it’ll probably take around two or three hours.”
The beastchild was so shaken that he swallowed all the drool in his mouth and gaped at me with horror. He looked as if I told him the apocalypse was going to happen.
Slightly taken aback by his expression, I stammered, “U-Uh, that’s the problem with things like jello and agar. They need time to harden. And hang on, we’re supposed to eat this tomorrow, remember? We only ended up holding a plum syrup tasting party tomorrow because you and Rei were so insistent.” I sighed. “It only takes a couple of hours or so, so it’ll be ready today, but what are we going to do for the party if you polish it off now?”
The horror on Kon’s expression transformed into despair and profound grief. I’d never seen such a face on him before. His eyes grew moist with tears, but he still swallowed his complaints, not wanting to be selfish.
I could only raise a white flag of surrender in my heart. Hanging my head in defeat, I muttered, “W-Well, I guess you can have a few slices. Just a few slices should be fine. You’ve still got to wait for three hours though, just so you know. If you’re too hasty, it’s going to be all mushy, and it won’t taste good. Bear with me for now, okay? Until then, let’s look for things we can do in the meantime, like chores or some kind of entertainment. When you’re focusing, a couple of hours goes by in the blink of an eye.”
Though that was what I said, I knew that to children, several hours seemed like a much longer time than in the eyes of an adult. On top of that, he was waiting for a delectable dessert to be ready, which meant that it would feel excruciatingly slow. That was a cruel statement to make, I thought with chagrin. But waiting was our only option, so this was a trial Kon had to overcome.
A while after that, Kon and I kept our distance from the kitchen so that the fridge—and in extension, the noshi ume—was out of sight and out of mind.