Tamagoyaki with Spring Asparagus

Back from Sacramento and I am carrying the visit like a stone in my pocket — heavy, smooth, impossible to put down. The images replay: Fumiko at the door. Fumiko's hands trembling. Fumiko cooking despite the trembling, because cooking is who she is and stopping would be a kind of death that comes before the real one. I write about it in the journal. I cannot write about it on the blog. Some grief is too fresh for an audience.

I made Fumiko's food all week — every meal, every day, as if the repetition could slow time, could keep her here, could tether her to the world through the thread of recipes that connect her kitchen to mine. Miso soup every morning. Onigiri for lunch. Gyoza for dinner. Tamagoyaki for breakfast. The tamagoyaki was the best I have ever made — the layers even, the sweetness balanced, the roll tight and golden. I thought: Fumiko would say "acceptable." And then I thought: no, she would say "good." Because she knows I have been practicing. Because she knows the practicing is the love.

I wrote a blog post about spring vegetables — asparagus and snap peas and the green garlic that signals the turn from winter to spring. It was a practical post, light, the kind that does not reveal the writer's internal weather. I wrote it while crying, which is a skill I have developed — the ability to write cheerfully about asparagus while my heart is doing something else entirely. The blog gets the asparagus. The journal gets the tears. Both are true. Neither is complete.

Brian asked if I was okay. I said yes. He asked again. I said, "Fumiko is getting older." He said, "She is ninety." He meant it kindly — a fact to contextualize the worry, a rational response to an emotional situation. But the fact is not comfort. The fact is the thing I am afraid of. Ninety is old. Ninety is the end of a long, extraordinary life. Ninety is Fumiko in her apartment with a walker and trembling hands and a pot of dashi on the stove and the knowledge that the routine is the only thing between her and the ending, and the routine holds, the routine holds, the routine holds. Until it does not.

Of everything I made that week — the miso, the onigiri, the gyoza — it was the tamagoyaki that stayed with me, the one I kept returning to each morning like a small act of faith. So here it is, with the spring asparagus I wrote about in that other, lighter post — the two halves of the week brought together on one plate. Fumiko would say it’s good. I’m going to believe her.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

4 large eggs
2 tablespoons dashi stock (or water)
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon mirin
1/2 teaspoon soy sauce
Pinch of salt
4 thin asparagus spears, trimmed to fit your pan
Neutral oil for cooking (such as vegetable or grapeseed)
Daikon radish, grated, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Blanch the asparagus. Bring a small pot of salted water to a boil. Cook asparagus spears for 1 to 2 minutes until just tender-crisp. Transfer to ice water, drain, and pat dry.
Mix the egg mixture. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, dashi, sugar, mirin, soy sauce, and salt until well combined. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve for a smoother texture.
Heat the pan. Heat a tamagoyaki pan or small nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Lightly oil the surface using a paper towel dipped in oil.
Pour the first layer. Add a thin layer of the egg mixture, just enough to coat the bottom of the pan. When the egg is about halfway set, lay 2 asparagus spears across the far end of the pan.
Begin rolling. Using chopsticks or a spatula, roll the egg from the far end toward you, wrapping the asparagus inside. Push the rolled egg back to the far end of the pan.
Build the layers. Oil the empty surface of the pan again, then pour another thin layer of egg mixture, lifting the rolled egg slightly so the new layer flows underneath. When halfway set, roll again from far end toward you. Repeat with remaining egg mixture, 2 to 3 more additions, adding the remaining asparagus spears in the second layer.
Shape and rest. Transfer the finished roll to a bamboo sushi mat or a sheet of plastic wrap. Gently shape into a compact rectangle and let rest for 2 to 3 minutes.
Slice and serve. Cut into 1-inch rounds with a sharp knife. Serve with grated daikon on the side if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tamagoyaki with Spring Asparagus — The Practicing Is the Love