Easy Japanese beef shigureni
This easy Japanese beef shigureni is a quick, easy dish that uses relatively few ingredients and is easily turned pescatarian or vegan. Succulent beef (or tofu) mixed with ginger in a sweet-meets-umami glaze. It's ideal for those wishing to dip their toes into the deep pool of Japanese cooking using ingredients widely available without having to stock up on many specialist items. Do as the Japanese ex-pats do.
Getting to the root of it
I've once again had my nose buried in the journals of recipes my father documented on his travels in the 1960s and 1970s. While trying to track down a particular Italian recipe, I came across this one that brought back memories. For some years it wasn't one my father Denton cooked that often. But, after my uncle brought him back seeds for burdock root from Japan and he'd perfected growing it, this easy Japanese beef shigureni appeared on the table more regularly, both as a side dish—one of the ways it was originally served in Japan—or as part of a main course such as beef shigureni donburi, with rice and egg, as I am doing here.
Denton's journal gives a date in 1971 as when he wrote down the recipe. But, he had first experienced it in Nagoya some years before. Having docked in Nagoya, he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to visit the ancient Atsuta Shrine, home to the holy sword Kusanagi, one of the Imperial Regalia of Japan.
That evening, he met up with a Port of Nagoya harbour pilot who had befriended him and my future uncle (who later married my mother's sister) who was taking them to a local vaunted sukiyaki restaurant. But, already both familiar with sukiyaki, my father and uncle were drawn to the beef shigureni, something new to them. My father Denton was very impressed as much by what he later learned was burdock root as with the wagyu beef. Much to my dad's annoyance, the place was really busy and he didn't stand a hope in hell of speaking with the chef. Nor could he get too much sense out of their pilot friend who had been downing—and encouraging them to down—copious amounts of sake.
Then, miraculously, in 1971, when he was attending an event at a shipyard in Tokyo, he met a guy called Ren who asked him what dishes he had enjoyed in Japan and my father mentioned beef shigureni. Ren beamed: "My wife is from Kuwana!" This still meant nothing to Denton, but Ren insisted that he would have to come over for dinner and that his wife would cook it for him. And it was Ren's wife Rin (I kid you not!) who taught Denton to cook beef shigureni in their apartment in Tokyo. She also taught him something about its history... or more accurately the legend of the beef version.
Clam to cow
There is no doubt that shigureni style cooking originated in Kuwana in central Japan. Under the Tokugawa shogunate (1603-1868), Kuwana was an important fishing port and castle town that was later eclipsed by Nagoya during the Meiji Restoration. It then became home to metal casting industries and a commuter town for Nagoya. Basically it became what Newark is to NYC with Japanese subtitles.
But, during the heady days of the Edo Period (and even earlier) Kuwana became known for its excellent clams, a reputation that continues even today. It's generally agreed by etymologists that the term "shigureni" was coined by a local haiku poet to specifically reference clams in a style of cooking that evolved initially as a means of preserving them but later into a widely appreciated delicacy, earning the patronage of important shoguns.
Oddly, it retained the name relating to clams even when the beef version evolved, the version that rapidly spread all over Japan, beef being more affordable and a lot easier to source in many parts of the country than the very special clams of Kuwana with a notably short shelf life, even with this preserving technique
But, exactly when this happened is unclear. The apocryphal story is that beef shigureni was invented by Hide Akatsuka "wife of Kakiyasu’s third president", the owner of a vaunted local restaurant. But, short of becoming adept enough to search archives in Japanese, none of the versions of this oft-repeated tale in English say precisely when. However, given that Kakiyasu Ryotei Honten was founded in 1871, that probably places the arrival of beef shigureni somewhere in the middle of the 20th century. The one thing I do know from my father's primary source material is that it was being cooked in Nagoya in the late 1960s and that a young wife felt proud to cook it as an emblematic dish of her hometown in 1971.
The story goes that the resourceful Madame Akatsuka invented the dish as a means to not waste beef offcuts in the Kakiyasu kitchen. Kakiyusa was a rather upmarket eatery noted for its quality of beef specialising in gyunabe hot pot dishes and later in sukiyaki. Initially developed as a dish to feed staff at the restaurant, she perfected simmering beef in the ukashini style famously used for Kuwana clams with a secret concoction of ingredients she devised. The staff so loved it that it later went onto the menu, initially as a side dish. And, so the legend goes, its fame spread like wildfire, soon being replicated across the country.
Now, in Japanese culture the whole concept of copyright didn't really exist until Japan's post-WWII trade engagement with the rest of world grew. So, Madame Akatsuka almost certainly didn't get any royalties for her invention. But, something must have been going well: they later opened a chi-chi branch in Tokyo's Ginza that is still going strong today.
Something that becomes clear from all of this is that that overused term "traditional" needs qualification. Beef shigureni very often gets labelled "traditional". Yes, it is traditional in the way that yōshoku, the Western-influenced cooking that emerged in the 19th century, is not. The style of cooking and core ingredients date back to the Edo Period. However, the emergence of beef cooked in this style is not even 100 years old.
I'd like to teach the world to sing...
One of the reasons I am publishing this recipe is because it is a great example of fairly traditional Japanese cooking that does not require that you go out and invest in a slew of specialist Japanese ingredients that may sit in your larder for years because you don't know how else to use them.
I long ago learned that the first wave of Indian immigrants to various Commonwealth countries figured out that HP sauce was a viable alternative for tamarind paste in Indian recipes, tamarind being an "exotic" ingredient not then available in their new home countries. So too did Denton later learn from Japanese ex-pats living abroad the hacks they use for "a taste of home". You don't need to have sake for this recipe, you can use dry white wine. You don't need to find burdock or lotus root: you can use parsnips. And, most bizarrely of all, if you can't get your hands on mirin, you can actually use a cola beverage. I kid you not.
The Marble Index
Kakiyasu was noted as a beef-specialist restaurant from its earliest days, something of which they remain proud today, even producing their own high-quality wagyu beef. Most Japanese chefs—overt in the recipe recorded by my father—insist that it should be made with wagyu beef with a high degree of marbling through the grain of the meat.
I certainly don't disagree with this on flavour grounds and love to use exactly that on occasions when I'm feeling indulgent. But, having experimented with it on many occasions, I generally now use very lean beef without much marbling. I don't feel that it particularly loses flavour if sticking to the basic recipe principles, but I suspect my arteries may thank me. The choice is yours.
More beefs
I look on in horror at some renditions of this recipe that call for the beef to be marinaded. It should not! The cooking process is the marinade.
What makes the beef particularly tender is the traditional (in the true sense of the word) technique of first blanching the beef in iced water before it goes into the pan, something used in numerous Japanese recipes. It is really important that you do not bypass what might seem to be an unnecessary (albeit very simple) step. It makes the world of difference to the final result; in the tenderness of the beef.
On the other hand, in addition to the level of marbling you like in your beef, you also have quite a few options as to how "meaty" you want it. Almost as if re-testing proof of concept, I've undertaken to cook it in two different versions before inflicting this recipe on you. Both involve lean beef with relatively little marbling i.e. not the traditional Japanese wisdom for this dish. But, in one version the beef is cut slightly thicker, in the other, very thinly. I've been fortunate enough to befriend a local Japanese restaurateur and, while she won't reveal the contacts for her specialist butcher, she will sell me these extremely thin steaks, similar to what gets called a "minute steak" or a "sizzle steak" in many places, but slightly thinner. They are so thin that you can cut them with kitchen scissors rather than a knife. Ultimately, I think these are my favoured option. But the slightly chunkier version is also excellent.
I have put quite a big spectrum in the ingredients, most notably on the weight of the steak because, quite obviously, thicker steaks will be heavier than very thin ones.
Thick and thin
Another thing that Rin taught my father was that in Kuwana, there were two different orders in which the ingredients would go into the pan. These weren't seen as different recipes, but rather two "official" versions that gave slightly different flavour emphases.
In one version—seemingly the most popular—the burdock root (or parsnips) then ginger are first briefly sautéd in the pan before adding all the liquid ingredients that make the sauce. This running order gives two characteristic results. Because the parsnips (or burdock root) and ginger are effectively sealed before the sauce ingredients go into the pan, their individual flavours stand out more within the final dish. And, also because they are sealed and their water content more contained, not seeping into the sauce, the sauce more easily becomes a thick, sticky glaze, the most desirable result for the majority of Japanese palates.
The second version starts with all the liquid ingredients going into the pan first. The parsnips/burdock root, followed by the ginger, are cooked in the forming sauce from the outset. This has the effect of imbuing both with the flavours of the sauce and making them more integrated into it. It also results in a slightly less sticky sauce, which means it soaks more easily into rice. Some argue that this is closer to Akatsuka-san's original method based on the techniques used for clams. And, indeed, documented old techniques for cooking the clams—cooked without vegetables except root ginger—confirm this. It makes complete sense given the universally understood wisdom of simmering clams in a liquid to retain their juiciness rather than blind-frying them in oil.
Neither is considered "incorrect" and households in Kuwana will often mix it up, alternating between these variations depending on their mood and hankerings. So, the choice is yours.
Sauce ingredients added first version
The new generation
Apart from the hubris of lean beef, I am cooking it here with all of those original Japanese ingredients—julienned ginger, sake, mirin, etc.—but a younger generation of Japanese chefs have revisited this delicious recipe with a far more open mind. For example, some actually favour using dry white wine (as opposed to sake). Following their thinking, this is one of the reasons I wanted to publish Denton's recorded recipe. There are plenty of "Western" alternatives that mean that you don't have to go out and source the canon of Japanese ingredients to pull off a delicious version.
The thing that presents the greater challenge depending on where you are in the world is burdock root. In some places it will be readily available in specialist Japanese stores or at organic grocers. But in a lot of places it's not. In the UK, for example, while dandelion and burdock, a bottled beverage that dates back to the Middle Ages, is easily found, the root vegetable itself is not. It was pushed aside when the British found a taste for carrots.
If you can't find fresh burdock root where you are—don't use frozen shredded burdock root or frozen burdock salad available at some Asian supermarkets— the best alternative is parsnips. They're a little sweeter, but still have an earthiness that carrots do not.
I notice carrots and red bell pepper being the most common interlopers in Western recipes. I tut-tut. Personally, I find these an overkill of sweetness, somewhat cancelling out the beauty of this dish in which the sweet-and-umami reduction are the star turn. Having tried in vain to get my hands on some fresh burdock root in London—it's currently simply not available in some of the places I occasionally find it—I'm using parsnips here, proof that you don't need to source a plethora of specialist Japanese ingredients to pull it off.
Take note:
This version is for 2 diners, depending on appetite and side dishes. But, you can easily scale it up for a larger group.
Please note that the images are indicative, a collation of cooking the dish on two different occasions with slightly different thicknesses of beef.
Once cooked, this dish with keep will in the fridge for a couple of days. It can be reheated or eaten cold. In Japan, beef shigureni has a reputation for tasting even better the day after it's cooked and is considered a treat in a bento box, eaten cold as a workplace lunch.
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Shopping list
for the easy Japanese beef shigureni
Approx. 350g to 400g beef steak; roughly one steak per diner, sliced (see above)
1 egg per diner; 4min soft-boiled (optional)
2 parsnips; peeled and cut into slices on the diagonal (or, ideally, burdock root if you can source it; skin scraped and cut in the same style)
4 thumb's lengths fresh root ginger; julienned into thick "matchsticks" along the grain
1 tbsp rapeseed (canola) oil or sunflower oil
1 tspn toasted sesame oil (for cooking)
3 tbspns dark soy sauce (ideally koikuchi shoyu if you can get it)
4 tbspns sake (or dry white wine or shaoxing cooking wine; in that order of preference)
2 tbspns brown sugar
1 tbspn mirin (or a cola drink)
½ tspn good, coarsely-ground white pepper
chopped spring onions (optional; garnish)
toasted white sesame seeds or blackened sesame seeds (optional; garnish)
Enough Japanese sticky rice (uruchimai) per diner (optional)
A little furikake for dressing the rice (optional)
toasted sesame oil (for dressing; optional)
Side dishes
I'm doing this easy Japanese beef shigureni donburi-style, with Japanese rice and a 4min soft-boiled egg as a meal course, with a few Japanese pickles on the side and steamed edamame beans with sea salt. Interestingly, one of the the things taught to my father by his hostess Rin was that in Kuwana, the soft-boiled egg would often be cooked in a little pot with a gas burner at the table and only added to the dish halfway through eating in order to experience the flavours with and without the egg. I do sometimes do this when eating it al fresco because it is notable how the dish changes flavour when the egg is added. But, mostly, I just add it before serving.
However, shigureni beef is often served as a side dish without the rice or egg, as part of a multi-dish meal. It's highly adaptable. Sometimes I serve it as a starter to be followed by a lighter fish main course in a Western-style course structure. But, for example, in Hawaii, on a stopover, it was served to me with a with sushi-style rice wrapped in nori on the side and a sesame and avocado salad. Knock yourself out.
Cooking Method
the easy Japanese beef shigureni
In Japan, there are two different running orders in which the dish is cooked. They aren't considered different recipes but rather optional variations that slightly alter which flavours come more to the fore. I am detailing the more poplar running order below, but see here above for more detail.
Keep your cut parsnip and julienne the root ginger. Place in separate bowls of cold water until just before cooking them. NB: if you are using burdock root, add a dash of rice vinegar to the water. This helps maintain the colour and balance the flavour
Slowly bring a pot of water to the boil, simultaneously preparing a fairly large bowl of ice-cold water i.e. adding a whole tray of ice cubes. Just as the water comes to the boil, remove from the heat. Blanch the beef for 30 to 40 seconds—or 20 to 30sec if using very thin beef—so it still remains a little pink in parts. Immediately drain and plunge into the iced water. Leave for approx. 2mins, drain again, and place to one side
Heat the cooking oil in a pan on a medium heat. When hot, drain the parsnips and pat down with paper towels so they are dry when going into the pan. Sauté for approx. 3mins; until they start to soften. Then drain the ginger, pat down with paper towels, and sauté for about 1min
Add the sake (or white wine), the dark soy sauce, brown sugar and mirin. Stir almost constantly until it reduces by two thirds
Add the drained blanched beef, increasing the heat to medium-high. Rather than "stir fry", either toss it in the pan as it cooks, or flip it using tongs or chopsticks. The Japanese notion is that you do not want to "break up" the beef by vigorously moving it about in the pan with a spatula. Allow it to cook until fully coated in the sauce until almost all the liquid has cooked off, immediately removing from the heat and covering to keep warm
If, as I am doing here, you are going for a donburi-style serving, add your hot rice to the bowls and plate the beef beside it, garnishing with sesame seeds, spring onions and a dash of toasted sesame oil. Add the soft-boiled eggs, cut in half. Finally dress the rice with a little furikake
Take to table together with pickles and condiments. Itadakimasu!
Alternatives
This carnivore dish is easily turned vegan simply by using tofu or smoked tofu cubes. Add the tofu at the same point as the beef in the recipe above—obviously you don't need to blanch it.
Shigureni started life as a pescatarian dish. Unsurprisingly, it's therefore great with seafood. If going for the original clam-based dish, it's important to note that what made Kuwana clams so famous was their size, on average 5 to 6cm wide, so look for larger clams (or mussels). It doesn't work that well with small clams such as those usually used in spaghetti alle vongole. I also find it excellent with squid or large shrimp. If doing it with clams, I always double the quantity of wine/sake and mirin, using the "first sauce" technique. This is because shellfish need to be simmered on a lower temperature rather than fried.
Dialling back to the carnivores, you can make it with chicken but blanching chicken can actually be dangerous from a food safety perspective. If making it with chicken, I advise first browning it in a separate pan in a little oil with garlic or else your glaze will have completely dried by the time the chicken is safely cooked.
Pairings
If you want to take the traditional route, you can pair this dish with sake. But I personally prefer it with two other popular Japanese options: plum wine (with or without ice); or beer. Overall, this is one of the few dishes where beer is my preferred option, either a Japanese beer or something in a similar style. And. that's what I have gone for here, a simple crisp lager that won't crush the more subtle flavours in the dish.
While I don't usually have wine with this dish, I have paired it with red wine in the past when serving it as a starter as part of a meal with a Western course structure. Obviously, the beef and rich flavours of the sauce demand a wine with enough oomph to balance each other. But, conversely, when playing games with a beef starter and a fish main course calling for a white wine, one does not want one's guests comatose before the main course, so it's best to avoid anything too heavy. My most pleasing results have been Saint-Émilion's and other Bordeaux reds of the medium-bodied ilk, though nothing specific sticks in my mind.
More interesting might be a contemporary Japanese perspective. Two of the younger generation Japanese chefs who ran a pop-up in London (see The New Generation section above), showcasing this dish and of the school of thought that it is even better cooked with dry white wine than sake, paired it with the dry white Chardonnay with which they cooked it and insist it best served with the same wine used to cook it. I certainly can't fault them based on that particular meal.
For non-alcoholic options, I prefer slightly chilled mineral water above all else to savour the unadulterated flavours of the sticky sauce. That said, one the occasions on which I am feeling a little racy, I love it with a traditionally brewed Fentimans Ginger Beer. I'm not going to mansplain how the two different notes of ginger complement each other. but, it's butch enough meatily to face down the beef...
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