miso, steamed buns

Bison stuffed buns from yesterday. What did you expect? After all, there are nine of these puppies. Brown rice South River miso. Authentic miso, the best available, from the exotic faraway land of Conway Massachusetts where apparently there is a river in the south.

* one large tomato diced and placed uncooked at the bottom of the bowl.
* one slab of tofu off the top of the tofu package so the tub it came in could be refilled with fresh water easily without spillage and covered.
* one half a white onion sliced into slivers
* two cremini mushrooms sliced
* one clove garlic, smashed and thinly cut to bits
* one rounded tablespoon South River miso
* three cups water
* two bison stuffed steamed buns, re-steamed separately in the microwave for 30 seconds with a small amount of broth.  I didn't want to risk them disintegrating in boiling miso.

And don't tell me the onions look like worms, I'm not having it.

Frankly, this broth needed something. I used to enjoy a bowl of plain miso but now I equate it with a cup of tea. Vegetables to miso isn't cutting it for me anymore. Not even the bison completed it. I suppose I'm becoming jaded, if I'm not already. Sake, mirin, honey, sugar, chile flakes, dashi or stock. Any of those things would fill out the flavor profile more completely.

Here's an idea: take a boat-load of onions and caramelize them at length achingly slowly. Over time, a huge pot of onions reduces to a few cups. On low for hours. Even on low the onions tend to burn. Ever aware of the state of your onions, dash them with water to arrest the burning and to start over with the caramelization process. Their developing sugar begins to burn again. Dash them with water again. And again. And again. And so on until you have pile of brown fully caramelized limp shrunken material that used to be onions but now must be called something else. This is the stuff that authentic French onion soup is made (part of it, the burnt bone marrow is the other part, and the oversized crouton floating a superabundance of Swiss-type cheese are the other parts). But who has time for all that onion caramelization? Maybe it is the sort of thing that can be started in a slow cooker and left untended while one goes off on one's merry way. And then maybe the miso soup won't be so anchored in three-dimensions.  I first wrote one-dimensional but the the fact is, the miso is already much better than that.

bison steamed buns

Stuffed dumplings, steamed buns what been filled with meat. I do not know what to call this. I invented it! Of course it was invented already at least 1,000 times in 1,000 variations: bao, nunu, pau, Goubuli (brand), dabaozi, xiabaozi, manti, vareniki (boiled), xingal, xlaklo, khinkali, ravioli, poteball, kløbb, Pitepalt, pierogi, pelmeni, kluski, koldūnai, pozi

SHUT UP !!!¡¡11!!11

Dough: this was changed midstream on impulse. Originally, I started with 1/2 Cup hot water, 1 level teaspoon dry active yeast, drizzle honey to kickstart the yeast and to sweeten the dough, 1 level cup white A/P flour, pinch of salt. Then for some reason right there I was overtaken with the urge to include masa harina (alkali-treated husked corn meal, makes niacin available) for that particular earthy flavor. It is a very un-dumpling-like ingredient. So, another 1/2 cup hot water and sufficient masa harina to form a stiff dough along with another pinch of salt to compensate for the increased mass. Left to rest and to rise. The masa, nearly 1/2 the volume of dry ingredient, is dead weight for the yeast and contains no gluten to form a molecular net that could trap bubbles produced by yeast. So all that would burden the A/P flour.  It would not contribute to the rise, and no chemical leaven is included, but I am not concerned with that because I am making dumplings, not bread. Nevertheless, the dough did rise, and fast too. This gave me the idea that masa-infused dough would make great tasting dinner rolls. I'll have to put that to the test some time.

Stuffing: two bison burgers, 1/2 diced white onion fried to soften, 1 garlic clove, 1/4 teaspoon Chinese five-spice, olive oil, sake, soy sauce, water to halt the burning of the garlic, boy, caught that just in time, honey (in place of mirin), 2 diced mushrooms. 1/2 cup panko bread crumbs.

Flattened the dough balls, stretched the dough around a ball of meat mixture. Steamed.

OMG! These are uckingfay eliciousday.

Ya know what is cool? I imagined I was making too much dough for the amount of filling intended but I didn't care about wasting it. I made the dough, then made the filling, then cut four strips of parchment paper, then cut those strips into thirds for 12 small rectangles. Maths! I divided the dough into half, then halved those, third-ed those segments, which then seemed to be the right size. Turned out to be 12 just like the parchment. Maths! Then as I went along scooping and pinching the stuffing from the bulk to form each little ball, I paid no attention to matching the amount of stuffing to the amount of dough. Still, the stuffing turned out to be exactly twelve dumplings worth. I did not plan that, even so, it turned out to match perfectly. It's maths! I tell you what, the maths of intuition.

But how to know when they're done? By inserting a thermometer, that's how. Science! But even there, the thermometer is inserted when one expects the dumplings are done. So once again, it is the science of intuition. Turned out, the timing was spot-on. Damn, I'm good.

I ate three of these. Know what that means? It means they're 1/4 gone, it means 75% remains. Maths! It is everywhere.

Say, howz 'bout a photo essay?