← Back to Blog

Moo Shu Beef Lettuce Cups — Cooking Together Is the Only Gift I Wanted

Back from Sacramento and I cannot stop cooking Fumiko's food. Every meal since I returned has been something from her kitchen — not the blog fusion versions, not my Portland adaptations, but the original recipes as close to her execution as I can manage. Miso soup with her kombu, her brand of miso, her ceramic bowls. Nimono with the specific cut of vegetables she uses — irregular, deliberately so, because irregular surfaces absorb more broth. Gyoza with her filling ratios, her pleating technique, her cast iron pan. I am cooking as remembering, as storing, as insurance against the day when I will not be able to call her and ask "how much ginger?" and hear her voice say "more than you think" with the certainty of a woman who has never, in ninety years, been uncertain about ginger.

Brian handled the solo weekend well. Miya survived. Brian survived. The apartment was messy when I returned — dishes in the sink, toys on the floor, a suspicious stain on the rug — but Miya was clean and fed and happy. Brian said, "We had a great time," and I believe him. He is a good father in the moments when he is present, and the solo weekend forced presence, forced the full immersion that his usual four-beers-and-a-screen evening avoids. Maybe he needs more solo weekends. Maybe I need more Sacramento visits. Maybe the solution is not being together more but being apart more purposefully.

I wrote a blog post about visiting Fumiko — about the sounds of her kitchen, the smell of dashi at dawn, the way she holds a knife. I did not write about her slowing down. That is private. That is the journal. The blog gets the beauty. The journal gets the truth. Both are real. Both are necessary. Neither is complete without the other.

Valentine's Day is next week. Brian asked what I want. I said, "Cook with me." He looked surprised. I said, "Not a restaurant. Not a gift. Just cook with me. In our kitchen. Something we choose together." He said okay. I do not know if he understands what I am asking. I am asking for his presence. I am asking for his hands next to mine on the cutting board. I am asking for the bridge. I am asking for the impossible, ordinary thing that love is supposed to be: two people, one kitchen, a shared meal. That is all. That is everything.

When I told Brian I wanted to cook together for Valentine’s Day — not a reservation, not a delivery box, just us in the kitchen — I knew I needed something that required two sets of hands: one to fill, one to hold, both present at the same time. Fumiko’s gyoza taught me that food assembled together at the table is its own kind of intimacy, and these Moo Shu Beef Lettuce Cups carry that same spirit — savory, quick, built for sharing. It’s not nimono. It’s not her cast iron gyoza. But it’s a bridge, and right now, a bridge is exactly what I’m building.

Moo Shu Beef Lettuce Cups

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 lb ground beef (85/15)
  • 1 tablespoon sesame oil
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 2 cups coleslaw mix (shredded cabbage and carrots)
  • 1 cup shiitake mushrooms, thinly sliced
  • 3 tablespoons hoisin sauce
  • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon chili garlic sauce (optional)
  • 3 green onions, thinly sliced
  • 1 head butter lettuce, leaves separated
  • Toasted sesame seeds, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Brown the beef. Heat sesame oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add ground beef and cook, breaking it apart, until browned and cooked through, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat if needed.
  2. Build the aromatics. Push the beef to one side of the pan. Add garlic and ginger to the cleared space and cook for 30 seconds, stirring, until fragrant. Mix into the beef.
  3. Add vegetables. Stir in the coleslaw mix and sliced mushrooms. Cook for 3–4 minutes, tossing frequently, until the cabbage has softened slightly but still has some crunch.
  4. Sauce it. Add hoisin sauce, soy sauce, rice vinegar, and chili garlic sauce if using. Stir to coat everything evenly and cook for 1–2 minutes more until the sauce is absorbed and glossy.
  5. Finish and serve. Remove from heat and stir in half the green onions. Spoon the filling into butter lettuce cups. Top with remaining green onions and a sprinkle of toasted sesame seeds. Serve immediately, assembled at the table.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg

Jen Nakamura
About the cook who shared this
Jen Nakamura
Week 98 of Jen’s 30-year story · Portland, Oregon
Jen is a forty-year-old yoga instructor and divorced mom in Portland who traded panic attacks for plants and never looked back. She's Japanese-American on her father's side — third-generation, with a family history that includes wartime internment and generational silence — and white on her mother's. Her cooking is plant-forward, intuitive, and deeply influenced by both her Japanese grandmother's techniques and the Pacific Northwest farmers market she visits every Saturday rain or shine. Which in Portland means mostly rain.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?