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THE next morning, I went on a grocery shopping trip with Kon after breakfast to purchase the ingredients necessary for our plum syrup dessert party in the afternoon. Our first stop was the fresh produce section, where I stocked up on all kinds of fruits. Oranges, grapefruits, watermelons, pineapples, kiwi fruits, and strawberries went into my shopping cart.
I knew everyone’s appetite well enough—I made sure to buy plenty so that there was enough to go around. Kon walked up to me with a cantaloupe in his hands, and after seeing his eyes bright with hope and excitement, I relented and placed only a single cantaloupe into our cart.
“Whoooa, you’re buying so many fruits today! They all look so yummy…” He stared at our pile of fruits dreamily. “You mentioned that you were gonna pour plum juice over these and turn them into fruit punch, right?”
As I marched on into the baking supplies section, I replied, “Sure did. Well, it’s technically not plum juice. I think you’re supposed to call it plum squash or plum soda? In any case, it’s plum syrup diluted in sparkling water. You can use plum jam instead of plum syrup too. You mix the plum product well with the water, giving it the pleasant sourness and aromatic taste of plums, then pour it over fruits.
I paused. “But there’s one small problem: some fruits are also sour to a certain extent. So, to balance it out a bit and give it a more mellow taste, we’ll want to add this in too.” I took off a bag of shiratamako—refined rice flour—from the shelf. It’s an ingredient used in all kinds of Japanese recipes, but especially in Japanese confectionery such as dango and daifuku.
Kon must have recognized it, because his eyes lit up even more, and he gave me a merry smile. “Ohhh! Shiratamako! I love shiratama dango too! Mommy makes sweet red bean soup with shiratama dango all the time! Oh, and she also deep fries them! Or put them in hot pot dishes! They’re yummy like that too!”
I gaped at him. “Wait, deep-fried shiratama dango?!” But after I thought about it for a moment, I got over my initial shock. “Weeell… I suppose shiratama dango are somewhat similar to mochi, and deep-fried mochi—agemochi—aren’t bad at all. As for putting them in hot pot stews… Yeah, that sounds like it could work.”
“Right?!” Kon chirped. “I think she also puts them in miso soup and zōni soup! They’re so tasty and chewy that they become the best part!”
Zōni soup is a soup where you usually add mochi, so using shiratama dango as substitutes makes sense. There are all kinds of different regional variations, but they typically consist of mochi and vegetables in a clear broth. They are often served as one dish of the osechi, ceremonial foods we enjoy during New Year.
I quirked up the corners of my lips with a small smile. “I should have expected nothing less from Mrs. Sanmaya, a Japanese chef through and through. Sounds like she’s been making all kinds of Japanese food with them. In my case, I kind of have this notion in my mind that shiratama dango equal dessert, so I’ve only used it in sweet stuff. You know, like sweet red bean soup you just mentioned, oshiruko, or add them to fruit punch. The smooth and chewy texture, combined with a hint of gentle sweetness, is a perfect match with the acidity of the fruits. And of course, shiratama dango also goes well with ume plums—it embraces the intense sourness and softens it just the right amount.”
“Huuuh! That’s so INTERESTING!” Kon exclaimed loudly. “I know that all the foods you make are yummy, Mikura, but it sounds even yummier now that you’ve explained them! Wooow, I can’t wait to have that fruit punch!”
And off he went, dashing down the aisle. For a moment, I thought he was going to sprint all the way to the cashier, but he suddenly skidded to a stop midway like a braking car.
Turning around, he stared at me inquisitively. “By the way, Mommy tried making jam, but it didn’t go well for her… Do you think there’s anything we can do?”
Oh, even a skilled chef like Mrs. Sanmaya has failures? I blinked in surprise. “What kind of problems did she run into? For example, if she ended up burning it a bit… It’d be hard to salvage that jam because it’s already got that burnt taste.”
“Um, let’s see, the jam kinda…” He fumbled for the right word. “The jam got all stiff!”
“Ahhh, I see now.” I nodded. “I suppose you have a few options with jam that’s too hard. You could use it as-is in stews or dissolve it in water to make squash, but I think your best bet is probably adding some water and simmering it again. Basically, what happened was that you evaporated too much moisture. Fruits have different water content and some even have a composition that makes them easier to harden when simmered, so it’s a pretty common occurrence. As long as you didn’t burn your jam, you can definitely save it. Other than that… Using an enamel pot might make a difference too.”
Kon blinked. “Anna-mole pot? Is it the white one you use, Mikura? What’s different when it’s white?”
“It’s not really the color that matters, it’s more how it was made,” I explained. “To make a long story short, heavy cookware like enamel pots and copper pots have low thermal conductivity. They’re good for simmering things because they heat up evenly instead of suddenly, which means that it won’t burn your food as easily. Their lids also trap the moisture inside the pot, making sure that it doesn’t lose too much water in the process. This means you can finish your jam before all the water evaporates and before you end up burning it.”
I added, “The issue with copper pots is that depending on the composition of your fruit, you might end up with strange flavors or odors in your jam, so cast-iron enamel pots are definitely more reliable in this case. You can use an enamel pot with a glass lid and keep it on as much as you can so that you don’t evaporate too much water at once. When it’s lidded, you can look inside and check on the jam’s consistency, then give it a stir with a wooden spatula so that it doesn’t burn. You can repeat that cycle until it’s ready.”
Kon inclined his head right then left. He repeatedly tilted his head back and forth, trying his very best to memorize what I just said. Clearly, he wanted to remember and understand my words so that he could relay them to his mother properly.
He was such a good boy—smiling, I continued, “Don’t worry. I’ll note down what I said later and give it to you, and you can just pass it on to your mom. Enamel pots can also be used for stews and soups, so if you’ve got one already, your mom can just use that from now on. I think it’s a worthwhile investment to think about if you don’t. …Ah, I’ll also note down a few brands I recommend just in case.”
I hummed in thought. “If you’re willing to invest a small fortune in a good one, I think there’s a good brand from France called Sta…Stab? Or something like that? Their pico…coco something is an excellent pot from what I remember. Its shape is apparently designed so that it won’t let moisture escape, and it’ll shine in many recipes other than jam. You can honestly always trust France when it comes to food.”
Hearing that, Kon squeezed his eyes shut and flashed me his signature close-eyed smile. After nodding as hard as he could, he exclaimed in an energetic voice, “Thank you!” Then, he bolted like a little ball of energy, aiming straight at the checkout corner. Using the ledges as his platforms, he climbed onto a free checkout counter and looked up at the staff standing by. “Hey there! Did you know we’re gonna make lots and lots of sweets with plum syrup today?! Mikura said we’ll throw a party and eat them together!”
The cashier, whose ears—likely feline?—swayed in reaction, didn’t look annoyed in the least as they returned a warm smile. Until I arrived at the counter, they kept Kon company and indulged the giddy beastchild.