[Flavor Wars - in which this blog takes a look at a misunderstood or underappreciated taste, and dissects it] As I sat at Sushi Yasuda today with a lovely friend, a strange smell suddenly enveloped the table. Actually it wasn’t a strange smell at all; it’s the same one one might get a whiff of, say, during a Willie Nelson concert. We looked at each other quizzically, then the waitress. It got us thinking: the sights and smells of Japanese food are often woefully misunderstood. (It was some sort of combo of the roasted green tea we drank, and possibly the seaweed. But the evidence disappeared in a hurry).Take umami. That elusive taste sensation was the word we searched for in vain as we demolished two plates of sushi and sashimi, the highlight of which was uni, or sea urchin roe. Lovers of uni—and I am a recent convert—form a sort of culinary secret society, one in which it wouldn’t be considered gluttonous to order 20 pieces of the stuff. Maybe it’s the limpid, tongue-like texture. Or the kabocha squash orange color. Or the cucumbery, briny, rich flavor that erupts with a bite of the best, freshest examples, which, in this country, come from about 30-90′ of Santa Barbara’s kelp forested seafloor. The LA Times staff writer Russ Parsons put it this way: “Sea urchins look like anything but a delicacy; they are covered with a spiny shell. But inside every urchin are five pieces of roe. Soft almost to the point of trembling, these melt on the tongue, releasing a vivid blast of pure ocean flavor. These are what are prized by sushi lovers.”But umami it is not, Mr. and Ms. Malaprop.Connoisseurs of Japanese cuisine might have known this right off the bat, but we didn’t. Nor did our waitress, at first, when we asked her if there was a way to describe the flavor of our incredible uni. “Maroyaka,” she suddenly said, brightening up. “It means soft, full, rich, creamy,” she said. My thoughts immediately ran to the Kumamoto Oyster, but it wasn’t the word we’d been thinking of, umami, which is loosely and vexingly defined as ’savory-ness’, or ‘deliciousness’. Moroyaka, on the other hand, is the type of flavor associated with creaminess, even in beer (a great accompaniment to sushi, in my book). As luck would have it, it turns out there’s quite a debate over how many flavors there really are beyond salty, sour, sweet, and bitter. Umami is widely recognized as the 5th, even though it’s found in such disparate foods as parmesan cheese, fish sauce, and mushrooms, foods which have higher concentrations of glutamic acid. But then there’s been research to establish fat as having its own distinctive flavor. Hmm. I volunteer to get behind that research, having eaten the most ridiculously delicious crispy pig’s head torchon the other night at Momofuku Ssäm Bar. But from now on, I’m going to use maroyaka when I might have tried to (mistakenly) throw out umami. Oh, and I almost forgot. That may be akin to kokumi, or, loosely, mouthful-ness. These seem like much more useful words to use, wouldn’t you agree?
TASTEBUD
SO MUCH TO TASTE. SO LITTLE TIME.Step Off, Umami! Moroyaka in da House [Flavor Wars, Part I]
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Glad to have converted you to sea urchin — I think it was me, anyway — and too bad it’s all downhill after Santa Barbara. Not to be unkind to the delicious Maine and California stock at Yasuda.