Homemade Oden (Japanese Simmered Stew)

The rain is back. Real Portland rain, the kind that does not stop for days, that turns the city into a watercolor of gray and green. I put on my rain jacket and strapped Miya into the carrier and walked to the coffee shop on Division Street because I needed to be around people without having to talk to people, which is the introvert's version of socializing. I sat by the window with a latte and watched the rain and Miya slept against my chest and for one hour the anxiety was quiet enough to hear the music playing — some acoustic something, gentle and forgettable, the perfect soundtrack for a gray morning.

I made a big pot of oden this week — the Japanese one-pot stew that is the answer to every rainy day. Daikon, boiled eggs, fish cakes, konnyaku, tofu, all simmered for hours in a light dashi broth seasoned with soy sauce and mirin. Oden is not a fast food. It is a commitment. You start it in the morning and eat it in the evening and the apartment smells like dashi all day, which is the smell of being cared for. Fumiko makes oden in October. I am making it in September because Portland gets cold before Sacramento and because I needed the comfort now, not in a month.

I wrote about oden for the blog — about patience, about slow cooking as an antidote to anxiety, about the way a pot of something simmering on the stove can make an apartment feel like a home in a way that no amount of decorating can achieve. The post was long, longer than I usually write, and I almost cut it but decided not to. Some stories need the full pot. Some stories need to simmer.

Brian tried the oden and said it was "interesting," which is Brian's word for "I do not love this but I acknowledge the effort." He ate the boiled eggs and the daikon and left the fish cakes, which is fair. Fish cakes are an acquired taste and Brian has not acquired it. I ate the fish cakes with mustard, the way Fumiko does, and thought about the different things we acquire in different kitchens. Brian acquired a taste for IPAs and nachos. I acquired a taste for fish cakes and silence. Neither is wrong. Both are the product of the homes that made us.

Miya tried a tiny piece of daikon from the oden. She made a face. Then she made another face. Then she ate more. The faces of a baby encountering daikon for the first time are a whole emotional journey — surprise, confusion, consideration, and finally, acceptance. I relate. That is more or less how I encounter everything.

This is the oden I made that week — the one that simmered all day while Miya slept and the rain came down and I tried to remember how to be still. I’ve written it out here because I got a few messages asking for it, and because I think there’s something worth passing along about a recipe that asks you to slow down with it. Serve the fish cakes with a small bowl of Japanese hot mustard on the side. Trust me on that one.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 3 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

For the dashi broth:
8 cups water
1 piece kombu (about 4x4 inches), wiped clean with a damp cloth
1 cup loosely packed katsuobushi (bonito flakes)
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons mirin
1 tablespoon sake
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
For the stew:
1 medium daikon radish (about 1 1/2 lbs), peeled and cut into 1-inch rounds
4 large eggs
1 block (14 oz) firm tofu, cut into 4 large triangles or rectangles
1 package (about 7 oz) konnyaku (konjac cake), cut into triangles and scored with a crosshatch on one side
4–6 pieces assorted fish cakes (chikuwa, hanpen, and/or narutomaki), halved if large
2 sheets abura-age (fried tofu pouches), halved and gently squeezed to remove excess oil
To serve:
Japanese karashi (hot mustard) or regular yellow mustard

Instructions

Make the dashi. Combine the water and kombu in a large heavy pot over medium-low heat. Bring slowly to just below a boil, about 15 minutes — do not let it fully boil or the kombu will turn bitter. Remove the kombu. Bring to a gentle boil, add the bonito flakes, and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let steep for 10 minutes. Strain through a fine mesh strainer; discard solids.
Season the broth. Return the strained dashi to the pot over medium heat. Stir in the soy sauce, mirin, sake, and salt. Taste — the broth should be lightly savory and faintly sweet. Adjust seasoning if needed.
Parboil the daikon. Place daikon rounds in a separate small saucepan, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil. Simmer for 10 minutes, then drain. This step removes bitterness and helps the daikon absorb the broth. Add the parboiled daikon to the seasoned dashi.
Hard-boil the eggs. Bring a small pot of water to a boil. Gently lower in the eggs and boil for exactly 10 minutes. Transfer to an ice bath, then peel. Add the peeled eggs to the pot with the daikon.
Add the remaining ingredients. Nestle the konnyaku, tofu, fish cakes, and abura-age into the pot. Everything should be at least partially submerged — if not, add a splash more water and a small splash more soy sauce to compensate.
Simmer, low and slow. Bring the pot to a gentle simmer over medium heat, then reduce to the lowest setting. You want small, lazy bubbles — not a rolling boil. Lay a sheet of aluminum foil or a drop lid (otoshibuta) directly on top of the ingredients to keep everything bathed in broth. Simmer for at least 3 hours, ideally longer. The daikon should be completely translucent and tender when pierced. Stir and turn everything gently once per hour.
Rest and serve. Remove from heat and let the pot rest, covered, for 20 minutes before serving. The flavors deepen significantly as it sits. Ladle into deep bowls, making sure each person gets a bit of everything, and serve with a small mound of mustard alongside. Oden is even better the next day, reheated gently over low heat.

Nutrition (per serving)

Homemade Oden (Japanese Simmered Stew) — Some Stories Need the Full Pot