Okonomiyaki and the Precarity of Ancestor Worship

Let's get sentimental

We get it, you’re biracial

While I am the product of miscegenation and my parents alchemized the prevailing racial tension of their day into the ball of vibrating stress that is me, I don’t feel particularly like a bridge connecting cultures. Probably that’s too much of a burden to place on any individual, and furthermore I can’t accept the mere fact of my existence as proof of anything. All I feel is the perpetual tension of existing in the liminal space between cultures. I simultaneously have more and less access; broader, but more superficial. Deep insight into a small shaft of human existence that I know is universal, but no one else does. I am both safer and less safe, constantly betrayed by people who might claim allyship but allowed to navigate both sides of a divide. It’s exhausting and enthralling. 

All of this makes it difficult to know where to turn for help, and near-impossible to determine how much space I should take up. Historically, I have defaulted to “none,” but I’m less willing to accept that these days. In times of existential frisson such as these, ancestral, spiritual help would be a great boon. But an inheritance of being biracial is having ancestors that would have hated one another by default. 

I don’t know her

Though they may have had their merits, I’m not particularly interested in the input of my Nordic-Anglo-Saxon ancestors. Despite being fourth-generation Japanese American and ostensibly better able to access them, I know next to nothing about my Japanese ancestors so I can’t really vouch for them either. I’m not terribly optimistic given Japan’s track record with colonial violence and warfare. I know that death doesn’t make saints of anyone, but my point is that invocation of the ancestors doesn’t always feel comfortable or intuitive to me. 

I couldn’t help but wonder

There is a lot of helpful discourse around chosen or intentional families. Do I also get to choose my ancestors? Do I have any right to pick and choose? Who even are these complicated, ethereal, incomprehensible creatures? What claim do I have to them? Just because I would choose them, would they choose me in turn? 

At moments like these I remember that I’m a Miranda, not a Carrie. So here’s a recipe for okonomiyaki. 

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Okonomiyaki, Osaka-style 

I eat okonomiyaki quite often because it is a perfect food greater than the sum of its parts. What is essentially cabbage, egg, and flour become a golden disc with a crisp exterior and tender, multi-textured interior. Okonomiyaki is an example of konamon, or flour-based Japanese dishes. When rice is scarce due to climate conditions, famine, or war, wheat flour takes its place and konamon is born. Greatness can sometimes come from hardship. 

More than others, this recipe is a template as the ingredient quantities have to be modulated depending on the size of your pan. Mine is a 10” cast iron which makes an okonomiyaki fit for one hearty appetite or an accompaniment to a meal for two to four. I’ll give you visual cues along the way so that you can modify for your cooking vessel. 

Okonomiyaki recipes can be very elaborate, but this one is relatively simple. Experiment with additions traditional or otherwise; this is an excellent canvas. As for garnish, okonomi sauce and Kewpie mayo are essential. You can substitute ketchup for okonomi sauce or make your own, but why? The stuff in the bottle is superior and cheaper. I always have Kewpie mayo on hand and encourage you to do the same as there simply is no substitute. 

Ingredients 

Neutral oil (I prefer safflower or sunflower oil, but use what you have)

2 cups green cabbage, sliced as thinly as possible 

2 green onions, white sections sliced thinly and green sections more chunkily 

1 egg, lightly beaten 

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil 

1/3 cup all-purpose flour 

1 tablespoon potato starch (you can omit, but the final texture will differ) 

A pinch of baking powder (you can measure 1/8 teaspoon if you want) 

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon togarashi or a few grinds of black pepper

1 to 3 tablespoons water

Okonomi sauce (I like the Otafuku brand; ketchup can be substituted if you must)

Kewpie mayo (nonnegotiable) 

Directions

Combine the cabbage and green onions in a large bowl. Add the egg and sesame oil and stir until homogeneous. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, potato starch, baking powder, salt, and togarashi or black pepper. Add the dry and vegetal ingredients together, then add water one tablespoon at a time until a thin batter forms. The consistency should be significantly thinner than pancake batter but still hold the ingredients together.

Heat about two tablespoons of neutral oil in a 10” pan. When the oil just begins to ripple in the pan, add all of the batter and smooth into a consistent thickness with a spoon. Using chopsticks or a similar implement, poke several holes through the batter to the bottom of the pan to allow steam to release. 

Cook on the first side until golden brown, about five minutes depending on your stove. Adjust your heat setting if the okonomiyaki is browning too quickly or deeply. Flip and continue cooking until the underside is also well-browned. You can add more oil to cook the underside to achieve a more uniform brownness - the first side will tend to absorb the oil and leave less for its counterpart - but this isn’t necessary. 

Remove from heat and garnish copiously with okonomi sauce and Kewpie mayo in a zigzag pattern. At this point, you can add any number of things: more green onion, sesame seeds, furikake, katsuobushi, kimchi, et cetera. I love it with the two sauces alone.