Jajamen (Morioka Noodles Part One)

Is your hometown famous for anything?

If I were hard-pressed to pick a few things that locals consider famous about my hometown I might come up with hot cider donuts, rubbery mini-dogs, a whole lot of very pretentious posh/artsy attractions, and of course fueling the cold war back when General Electric (later General Dynamics) was heavily involved in building bombs.  Not every hometown story can be a proud one, I guess.

When I first started taking Japanese lessons I remember being stumped by the question of what my hometown was famous for.  It wasn't something many of us in the class had ever given much thought to.   Certainly I didn't have a ready answer for it.  "What's my hometown famous for?  I don't know... people trying to leave it, I guess?"

But in Japan that's a question that nearly everyone has an answer for.  I can tell you, without really stopping to think, what many of the towns near my old home are famous for.  My village, for example, is known for wine and a type of traditional dance called kagura.  Tono, the next village over, is famous for being the Japanese equivalent "a kingdom far, far away," wasabi beer that locals love to give to unsuspecting visitors as a joke, and its particularly delicious horses (yes, you read that correctly and yes, they were rather delicious).  Less unsettlingly, the prefectural capital is known for things like the Sansa Odori festival, cast-iron teapots, and the Three Great Noodles of Morioka.

It's also famous for crackers.  

Of the Three Great Noodles, two are fusion dishes.  Jajamen, this week's recipe, is a Japanese version of zha jiang mian / jajangmyeon (Chinese and Korean noodle dishes, respectively).  Morioka reimen, which I'll post in a few months once the weather heats up, is a version of a Korean cold noodle dish called naengmyeon.  The third type, wanko soba, isn't a specialty recipe so much as it is a unique kind of eating/politeness contest where the object is to slurp down your tiny bowl of noodles and put the lid on your bowl before the waitress who's hanging over your shoulder can refill it.  It really doesn't get more Truly Japanese than wanko soba and if you're ever in that part of the world I highly recommend it as a bit of hysterical fun (and a way to appreciate just how much people can eat when pride is on the line).

What I like about this recipe is that it's quick and fairly straightforward to put together, and that customizing it to your own tastes is very much a part of The Way It's Done. 

Jajamen (Spicy Black Bean & Garlic Noodles from Morioka)

Total time to make:  About 15-40 minutes, depending on your multi-tasking skills.

Weirdest ingredient:  Black bean sauce, used as a replacement for 甜麵醬 ("tianmianjiang"), a Chinese flavoring made from red miso paste.  Happily, black bean sauce is fairly easy to find in the pan-Asian/international section of many grocery stores, even here in a low-diversity area like rural PA.  Alternatively, if you have red miso paste on hand you could make your own tianmianjiang for a more authentic flavor.

Credits:  The recipe below leans rather heavily on this Cookpad recipe (in Japanese), with input from this one (also in Japanese), and English-language Japanese and Korean versions of the dish.

Makes:  2-3 servings.  

As a heads-up, Jajamen is a recipe in two parts.  Unlike other multi-step recipes, you have to eat the first part before you can make the second.  That's part of the fun.  Stay tuned and you'll see what I mean below.  Also, if you see pork in the recipe and are tempted to give up (I myself eat pork maybe 1-2 times a year at most -- to be honest it kind of grosses me out), know that this recipe would also be really excellent with eggplant (particularly Chinese eggplant), extra-firm tofu, or even black beans as a substitute.  

Before you get started with the stir-fry bit, put on a pot of water to boil in a pan big enough to cook your noodles.  In a separate pan, put on 2 cups of chicken or vegetable stock to boil as well (note: it's a-ok to use bullion here if you prefer).  You'll also want to pull one egg per person out of the fridge and put it on the counter to warm up a little.  

Okay, so the first step in making the sauce is to saute up a generous handful of mushrooms.  Use whatever kind you have on hand, I say.  I had shitake, but you're not going to feel left out if you use something else.  For this recipe I'd say about 1 tsp vegetable oil and 1/4 tsp of sesame oil is a nice combo to use in a skillet on medium-high heat:

While the mushrooms cook (about 3-5 minutes, just enough to soften up), you can dice up two pork chops into very small pieces.  Alternatively, use ground pork or veggies such as the ones suggested above.  I used pork chops because they were on sale:

Once the mushrooms are softened, the pork goes into the skillet as well.  Depending on how small your pieces are the meat will take anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes to cook all the way through.

Put together the sauce while the pork is cooking.  Gather the following up in a bowl:  2 tablespoons of miso paste (either red or white), 1 teaspoon each of ginger paste and garlic paste, 1 teaspoon sugar, 1 tablespoon of rice wine (cooking sake), 1 tablespoon of soy sauce, 1 tablespoon of mirin (or else add an extra tablespoon of rice wine and two teaspoons of sugar), and 1 tablespoon of the black bean sauce:

Whisk all that together into a smooth sauce:

And when your pork is completely cooked through add the sauce to the skillet:

Turn the heat down to low at this point, cover it, and let it simmer for at least another 5 minutes to let the sauce soak in.

While the sauce is simmering, slice up some cabbage (optional) and thin cucumber slices.  

When the veggies are cut, drop 2-3 servings of noodles into the boiling water you prepared before you got started with the stir-frying.  Does it matter what kind of noodles you use?  Yes and no.  I've seen udon, soba, Chinese noodles, and even ramen (minus the spice packet) used for this dish.  I say go with whatever you like best.  I used udon.  Follow whatever directions come on your noodle package in terms of boiling time, then drain the noodles and rinse them briefly with cold water to prevent them from over-cooking.

Now we get to the arranging part.  Noodles go in the bowl first:

Followed by the cabbage and cukes:

And then the sauce.  

Now, if you're going for complete jajamen authenticity then you may want to puree the sauce so that it more closely resembles a thick paste than a stir-fry.  That is totally up to you.  I have this weird pet peeve where I hate washing my blender so I didn't puree the sauce, though it did change the texture and feel of the dish somewhat to skip that step.  If you do puree the sauce then just be sure to let it cool a bit before sticking it in your blender to avoid damaging anything.  A tiny bit of broth or sesame oil can help if it's too sticky to blend properly.

When eating jajamen in restaurants it's very common to get a wide array of condiments to mix with it, such as extra garlic, La-Yu (chili oil), chili paste, scallions, and even vinegar.  I myself love a deep spicy kick to my noodles, so I opted for a dash of sriracha:

Tadaa!  Dig in!

"But wait," you say with concern and dismay.  "What about the egg and the chicken broth from back at the very beginning?"  

I'm so glad you asked.  Eating the noodles is the first course of the meal.  You can choose to completely empty your bowl, leaving only the leftover sauce  or -- my preference -- leave about 1/4 of the noodles in the bowl:

At which point you crack the egg into the bowl (really!):

And immediately top it with the boiling chicken or vegetable stock you've had sitting on the stove.  Use your spoon or chopsticks to whisk everything around for a minute or two, thereby tempering the egg and making an impromptu egg-drop soup.  

Note: if the idea of cooking the egg in this way weirds you out too much, or if you want to leave no doubt that your egg is totally cooked through, crack the egg(s) into the boiling stock on the stove, whisk, and let them cook for 2-3 minutes that way.  The only real difference is that you'll end up with chunkier egg pieces rather than a rich, eggy broth.  That said, whether you add the egg to the soup or the soup to the egg it'll still cook through and will be delicious.  I promise.  But I do totally understand the queasiness some folks might feel about putting a raw egg into their bowl, so no judgment here if you choose to do it the other way.

So now you get to have soup as a second course!  Yum!  

This is a really great dish to warm you up on chilly day, especially around this time of year when winter hasn't quite given up its hold yet.

Jajamen (Morioka Miso-Garlic Udon)

Ingredients:

• water for boiling noodles
• 2 cups chicken or vegetable stock (from scratch, can, or bullion)
• 2-3 servings of udon, soba, or Chinese noodles
• one egg per person
• 1 tsp vegetable oil + 1/4 tsp sesame oil
• generous handful of mushrooms
• note: for a more Chinese/Korean feel to the dish, other vegetables (e.g. zucchini) can be used in addition to or in place of the mushrooms
• 2 pork chops, finely minced
• can sub ground pork, diced eggplant, cubed extra-firm tofu, black beans
• 2 tablespoons of miso paste (either red or white)
• 1 teaspoon each of ginger paste and garlic paste
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1 tablespoon of rice wine (cooking sake)
• 1 tablespoon of soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon of mirin 
• can sub an extra tablespoon of rice wine and an extra two teaspoons of sugar
• 1 tablespoon of black bean sauce or sweet bean paste
• see long-version of the recipe, above, for notes
• small handful each of shredded cabbage (optional) and thinly-sliced cucumber
• condiments according to preference, common options include:
• scallions
• La-Yu sesame chili oil
• rice vinegar
• garlic

Directions:

1. In separate pans, put the water for the noodles and the stock on high heat.  Let these come to a boil while completing steps 2 - 8.
2. Add the oils to a skillet on medium-high heat.  When the oil is hot, add the mushrooms and cook for 3-5 minutes or until softened.
3. While the mushrooms cook, dice the pork.
4. Add the pork to the skillet, stirring occasionally, and cook through (5-15 minutes, depending on size of the pork pieces).
5. While the pork cooks, whisk together the miso, ginger, garlic, sugar, sake, soy sauce, mirin, and black bean sauce and set aside.
6. When the pork is cooked through, add the sauce and reduce the heat to low.  Cover and allow to cook for a minimum of 5 additional minutes.
7. (OPTIONAL:  Allow the stir-fry to cool until lukewarm and puree in a blender or food processor to make a thick paste.  If desired, return the paste to the stove and re-heat.  This step is not shown above although it makes a more authentic-looking end product.)
8. While the sauce is simmering, slice the cabbage and cucumbers into small pieces.
9. While the sauce is simmering, add the noodles to the boiling water prepared in step 1 above and cook for the amount of time indicated on the package.
10. When noodles are done, drain & rinse briefly with cold water.
11. To serve the noodle course:  layer the noodles, cabbage & cucumbers, and sauce in an individual-sized bowl.  Top with any condiments as desired.
12. To serve the soup course:  Leave approximately 1/4 of the noodle course in the bowl.  To this add one egg and top with the boiling stock that you prepared in step 1.  Whisk using chopsticks or spoon for 1-2 minutes or until egg is cooked in the broth.  
13. (Alternatively, drop the egg(s) into the broth while it is boiling on the stove and allow 2-3 minutes to cook through before adding to the bowl.)

Miso Soup by Candlelight: Why I'm Furusato Sick (帰心)

I was going to make this week's post the continuation of the brunch series, but to tell the truth there's something else on my mind and this is as good a place as any for catharsis.  I want to take a second to talk about my heart's home back in Iwate.  This is not as much of a departure from recipes as you might think, for whenever I think of food I think of Japan and the little kitchen where I started to expand my culinary horizons:

Inevitably I also think of a gorgeous passage from Tanizaki's In Praise of Shadows where he discusses the uniquely somber aesthetic of Japanese food and serving ware:

"Whenever I sit with a bowl of soup before me, listening to the murmur that penetrates like the far-off shrill of an insect, lost in contemplation of flavors to come, I feel as if I were being drawn into a trance.  The experience must be something like that of the tea master who, at the sound of the kettle, is taken from himself as if upon the of the wind in the legendary pines of Onoe.

"It has been said of Japanese food that it is a cuisine to be looked at rather than eaten.  I would go further and say that it is to be meditated upon, a kind of silent music evoked by the combination of lacquerware and the light of a candle flickering in the dark.  Natsume Souseki, in Pillow of Grass, praises the color of the confection youkan; is it not indeed a color to call forth meditation?  The cloudy translucence, like that of jade; the faint, dreamlike glow that suffuses it, as if it had drunk into its very depths the light of the sun; the complexity and profundity of the color -- nothing of the sort is to be found in Western candies.  How simple and insignificant cream-filled chocolates seem by comparison.  And when the youkan is served in a lacquer dish within whose dark recesses its color is scarcely distinguishable, then it is most certainly an object for meditation.  You take its cool, smooth substance into your mouth, and it is as if the very darkness of the room were melting on your tongue; even undistinguished youkan can then take on a mysteriously intriguing flavor.  

"In the cuisine of any country efforts no doubt are made to have the food harmonize with the tableware and walls; but with Japanese food, a brightly lighted room and shining tableware cut the appetite in half.  The dark miso soup we eat every morning is one dish from the dimly lit houses of the past.  I was once invited to a tea ceremony where miso was served; and when I saw the muddy, claylike color, quiet in a black lacquer bowl beneath the faint light of a candle, this soup I usually take for granted without a second thought seemed somehow to acquire a real depth, and to become infinitely more appetizing as well.   ...   Above all there is rice.  A glistening black lacquer rice cask set off in a dark corner is both beautiful to behold and a powerful stimulus to the appetite.  Then the lid is briskly lifted, and this pure white freshly boiled food, heaped in its black container, each and every grain gleaming like a pearl, sends forth billows of white steam -- here is a sight no Japanese person can fail to be moved by."

Over the years I came to agree that darkness is part of what makes Japanese food and culture so beauitful.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, my favorite Japanese meal of the entire three years I spent there was enjoyed by lantern-light.  Even my teeny dining room looked best just as the sun began to set over the mountain:

Why all the nostalgia, you ask?  March 11th is the three-year anniversary of the Tohoku Earthquake and Tsunami.  Although I was back in the States by then, I remember that day as perhaps the single most heart-breaking moment of my life.  I remember sitting by the TV for days, barely able to see through tears, as I watched places I'd known and loved swept away.  I remember hysterically emailing old friends and colleagues from the coast, desperate to hear they were alive.  In the days immediately following and in the years since there has been a lot of focus on the Fukushima nuclear meltdown.  To me that is as tragic as the rest of it, though it is less real because Fukushima wasn't my home.  I feel for the people there, but my heart bleeds for the Iwate coast.  So I hope you'll indulge me in sharing with you just some of the stunning views I experienced when I lived near there.  

For example, from my little village smack in the middle of Iwate:

Of Mt. Iwate and Morioka, just to the north:

Of the coast, where I spent some lovely summer days at a stunning pinegrove beach that no longer exists:

And of the people who made my stay what it was, who did their best to struggle uphill against a lifetime of ingrained prejudicial attitudes and small-town bigotry to make an earnest effort at showing me acceptance and love.  Maybe it's the darkness that's overshadowed my memories of Iwate that make them so perfect in retrospect, like miso soup by candlelight.  

So if you get a moment over the next few days, please spare a thought or a prayer for the people of Tohoku and all they have lost.

Japanese Curry (カレーライス)

Are you ready for a history lesson?

The story of Japanese curry is a heart-warming tale about sharing.

Actually, sorry, that's not entirely true.  If we're honest it's a tale about war, racism, and world conquest.  But also about the power of food to help build rickety bridges across cultural gaps.  I hope you'll forgive me for glossing over some of the mass murder and subjugation bits so that we can focus instead on the fascinating game of food telephone that ultimately led to Japanese curry.

Once upon a time a few English sailors came to love Indian curry.  As we cover every so often on this blog, curries can have all kinds of bases and contents.  It can take a little while to get the hang of it.  You can imagine, then, why British sailors in the late 1800s could get confused.  It's spicy, a little soupy, but often thick like a gravy.  So, lacking detailed instructions or culinary know-how, they simply started dumping large handfuls of "Indian" spices into their stews.  Stews that, for various reasons having to do with the French influence on English cooking techniques, were occasionally thickened using a roux (I'll explain what this is below in the recipe if you're not familiar).  So now you've got British sailors eating spicy, thick stews sometime around the first time in modern history that Japan was open to foreigners.  It wasn't long after that that Japanese curry was born.

Here's where I have to draw on my own conjecture a bit.  Japanese curry has a distinct lack of heat and instead features a mild sweet and tangy flavor that I haven't experienced in any other kind of curry.  I suspect these are unique features that were part of the adaptation that occurred, since Japanese food is rarely hot-spicy.  At any rate, it's certainly much more sweet than spicy and even the "hot" varieties are fairly mild.  And really, how many curry recipes do you know that call for a roux and ketchup and Worcestershire sauce?

(I know, right??  But it's really good stuff.  Trust me.)

The dish also ultimately spread to Korea because of reasons.  Kind of a bummer of a footnote, but that's world history for you.

Now, my experience is that by and large folks making Japanese curry in Japan don't make it from scratch.  There are two popular ways to make it.  One -- and my favorite when I lived there -- is simply to buy it pre-made.  It comes in a little tin foil bag that you drop in a pot of boiling water, heat for a few minutes, and then dump over rice.  Easy-peasy.  This is called, perhaps not shockingly, "curry rice."  These little bags were a staple in my Japanese pantry and were, as it turns out, one of the very first things I ever bought at the grocery store (having at that time zero experience with or knowledge of curry as a food).  It was also one of my first opportunities to document real-life Engrish:

Please forgive the terrible picture quality.  That was taken on a camera phone back in 2005.

Anyway, the second way to make Japanese curry at home is to make your own stew and then flavor it using a pre-made brick of flavoring.  The flavor brick looks like a miserable, questionable chocolate bar.  The idea is to hack off a square of the brick, dissolve it in hot water, and then add it to your stew.

Both the ready-made curry-in-a-bag and the roux block are typically available at any Asian market that sells Japanese food.  Heck, since they're both nonperishable they're also available through Amazon.

But I thought it'd be nice to make it from scratch.

Best of all, since it's just a flavored stew you can be as inventive with the ingredients as you like, including opting for a vegetarian/vegan version if that's what floats ya.  This version is vegetable-only, but please feel free to add chunks of cooked beef, chicken, pork, tofu, or other Protein of Choice.

Concise recipe at the bottom, y'all.

Japanese Curry

Total Time:  Approximately 1 hour
Weirdest Ingredient:  "Sauce"

First off, the credits:  The spice mix is S&B's blend, which I would not have been able to find without Just Hungry.  The rest of the recipe is minimally adapted from No Recipes, with a few tweaks from various curry recipes off Cookpad.

Now let's to get down to business.

(We will not be defeating the Huns.  We had enough war in the intro, thanks.)

What you need to remember is that there are two major steps:  roux + stew.

Roux, pronounced "roo," is flour that's cooked in melted butter or oil.  The basic rule is that the longer you cook a roux, the stronger the taste and the weaker the thickening power.  It's used in all kinds of recipes, like gravy (light-colored, thick) or gumbo (chocolate brown, thinner).  The idea is to make the roux, flavor it, and then whisk your liquid into it.  Which is precisely what we're going to do here.

The first step is to mix up the spice blend.  Now, if you happen to have some S&B curry powder on hand, then just use that, since this is precisely their recipe plus a little addition of my own.  To make enough of the blend for this recipe, mix together the following:  1/4 tsp cumin powder, 1/5 tsp cardamom powder, 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon, 1/8 tsp ground cloves, 1 crushed/powdered bay leaf, 1/8 tsp allspice powder, 1/4 tsp coriander powder, 1/2 tsp garlic powder, 1.5 tsp turmeric powder, 1/4 tsp ginger powder, 1/4 tsp red chili powder, 1/4 tsp ground black pepper, and 1/4 tsp cocoa powder (yes, really).   Optional:  1/8 tsp finely ground instant coffee or espresso powder.

The blend can be easily multiplied (I've actually cut the original in half) according to your needs or how often you want to make this.  Assembling all that took me about 10 minutes since I had to crush my own bay leaf.

TIP:  Use a mortar & pestle or a clean coffee grinder to crush the bay leaf (the seeds are cardamom because I was out of powder).
TRIVIA: In Japanese bay leaves are called laurel, which is what they actually are.  As in, a laurel wreath.  Cool, huh?

Now, this step is optional but I find it helps to bring out the flavors.  Put a skillet on LOW heat and whisk the spices around on the slightly-hot pan until you just begin to smell them:

Put them in an uncovered container to cool.  If you're not using it all right away then stick the blend in an air-tight container.

Once that's set you're ready to hit the ground running.  Thickly chop up some onions (I used two onions) and cook them on medium-low in a deep pot with a splash of oil for about 20-30 minutes to caramelize them.

While those are caramelizing you've got two tasks: chopping the rest of your veggies and making the roux.  I chop first since the roux requires fairly constant attention.  For this curry I chopped up the following into bite-sized pieces:  12 baby carrots, 2 potatoes, and 1.5 bell peppers.  If you want to use meat or tofu as well, just be sure the meat is pre-cooked (you could brown it alongside the onions if you'd like).

Once the veggies are chopped up it's roux time!  Take a skillet and add 3 tablespoons of butter (or oil of choice) on medium-low heat.

When the butter is melted add 1/4 cup of all-purpose flour.

Using a whisk or paddle, mix the flour into the butter until you get an oozy paste:

It should be fairly thick and just a tiny bit runny.  Keep stirring constantly until the roux is more of a caramel brown.  It'll also be a good deal thinner than it was.

Remove the skillet from heat and quickly add:  1 tablespoon ketchup, 1 tablespoon "sauce*," the spice blend (apx. 2 tablespoons in total, or sub in your favorite curry powder),  & 1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika (adjust to your taste).  

*  "Sauce" in Japanese refers most typically to a kind of fruity, tangy brown sauce that's seen on all kinds of food.  It's especially popular on fried foods like croquets or pork cutlets ("tonkatsu"), which is why one of the variations is called tonkatsu sauce.  If you don't have any (and why would you), for this recipe you could either:  (1) make your own; (2) use brown sauce instead; or, (3) substitute Worcestershire sauce.  Each of those will produce a slightly different flavor but none is really going to cause you to miss out.

Mix up the spices, sauces, and roux.  You'll find it all gloms together in a way that is just about as far from appetizing as anything could be.  There will also be a smell that walks the seldom-trod line between sickly sweet and spicy in an unfamiliar, alarming way.

Don't panic.  I promise this will be okay.  Leave it in the skillet off the heat and set it aside.  We'll come back to it in about 15 minutes.

For me the roux-cooking process took about 20 minutes, which was just enough time for my onions to finish caramelizing:

On top of the caramelized onions I added my veggies, 1/2 cup of unspiced apple sauce or apple puree (no kidding), and 2 tsp of garam masala.

I covered all this with 4 cups of vegetable stock and dialed the heat up to medium-high.

Once it boiled I turned it down to a simmer and let it cook until the potatoes were tender.  It took about 10 minutes.

Hooray, we're nearly there!  Using a heat-proof measuring cup I scooped out about 2 cups of just the hot liquid from the pot.  Be sure to only grab the liquid and not any of the veggies.  This got put back into the skillet where the roux... lump... was waiting:

About a minute and a half of whisking later I'd dissolved the roux block into the soup liquid:

Which was then added back in with the rest of the stew:

Tadaaa!  Salt and black pepper to taste and you're done.

My favorite way to eat Japanese curry (which is always served over either Japanese sticky rice or noodles, by the way) is with a plain omelet sandwiched between the rice and the curry.   So that's what I did.

With a little salad for color & crunch:

Yum!  Curry rice with omelet is among my favorite dishes, second to having it a panko-breaded donut, because of course that's a thing.  A very delicious, very unhealthy thing.

Next up is some kind of baked goodie, I think.  I'm still deciding what to send with Doc when he visits his parents this coming weekend.  Stay tuned to find out!

Japanese Curry (Curry Rice / カレーライス)

Spice Blend:

• 1/4 tsp cumin
• 1/5 tsp cardamom
• 1/4 tsp cinnamon
• 1/8 tsp clove
• 1 crushed/powdered bay leaf
• 1/8 tsp allspice
• 1/4 tsp coriander
• 1/2 tsp garlic
• 1.5 tsp turmeric
• 1/4 tsp ginger
• 1/4 tsp red chili powder (or to taste)
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 1/4 tsp cocoa powder

Roux:

• 3 TBS butter (or oil of choice)
• 1/4 all-purpose flour
• 1 TBS ketchup
• 1 TBS tonkatsu sauce
• can sub:  1 TBS brown sauce or 1 TBS Worcestershire sauce
• 2 TBS spice blend (above) or S&B curry powder
• 1/2 tsp sweet paprika (or to taste)
• can sub: cayenne, red chili powder

Stew:

• 1 tsp oil
• 2 onions, cut into large chunks
• 1.5 bell peppers, any color, cut into bite-sized pieces
• 12 baby carrots (or 1-2 large carrots, peeled) cut into bite-sized pieces
• 2 potatoes, cut into bite-sized pieces
• 1 tsp garam masala
• 1/2 cup plain, unflavored applesauce
• can sub:  1 apple, pureed
• 4 cups stock or water
• salt & pepper to taste

Directions:

1. If desired, lightly toast the spice blend on low heat until just fragrant.  Place into an uncovered container and allow to cool completely.
2. Drizzle oil in a pot large enough to hold several cups of soup on medium-low heat.  Add onions and cook, stirring occasionally, 20-30 minutes or until caramelized.  
3. To make the roux:  While onions are caramelizing, melt the butter in a skillet on medium-low heat.  Blend in the flour and stir constantly until roux is light brown, approximately 15 minutes. Remove from heat.  Add ketchup, sauce, spice blend, and paprika and mix until a dense ball forms.  Set aside, away from heat, leaving the roux block in the skillet.
4. Once onions are caramelized, add peppers, carrots, potatoes, garam masala, apple sauce, and stock to the large pot.  Bring to a boil, then turn down to simmer 10 minutes or until potatoes are fork-tender.
5. Using a heat-proof cup scoop out approximately 2 cups of the soup liquid, taking care not to get any vegetables into the liquid.  Pour liquid into the skillet.
6. Whisk the roux block into the hot liquid until completely dissolved and no lumps remain.
7. Pour the liquid back into the soup pot and stir to mix.  
8. Remove from heat.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Serve over Japanese rice or udon noodles.
9. Optional: place tonkatsu (panko-breaded, fried pork cutlet) or a plain omelet on a bed of rice and ladle curry over top.