The root of it all

My love affair with gobo (aka burdock root)--which my dad loves--has sort of a backwards history. I didn't remember that my dad liked it so much until fairly recently when I discovered how much I liked it. The earliest and only memories I have of the existence of gobo are when my father and my aunt craved it while they were recovering, separately, from ailments (pneumonia, heart surgery).


These memories were triggered recently when I was served some at a celebration for the Mexican Chef's daughter's one-month birthday. The Chef's mother had set out some gobo which I instantly devoured. I'm hoping they didn't notice but I really attacked that little bowl in front of me, plus the one that was set out an arm's length away (and probably the one at the other side of the table). I could not stop eating it. I asked my friend's mother how she prepared it and I confess I can barely remember what she said (was it the accent? did I drink too much sake?).


Which is unfortunate because not much later I found it at the farmer's market. I promptly bought a few roots despite having no idea what to do with it. I called my mother who told me in vague terms to peel it like a carrot, to work 'under water' (what?) and that it takes a long time to cook until soft (which is how my dad prefers it, but I like it crunchy).


So, armed with a vague memory of my friend's mother's recipe and my mother's suggestions, I attempted making it and, after a few tries, I have a method that I like:

• scrub them as much as possible
• peel with a vegetable peeler
• julienne them by cutting on diagonal, then cutting into strips (my cousin told me her mom uses a pin to separate it into thin strands to make it rustic but I do not have the time or patience for that, and besides, my julienning skills are pretty rustic)
• then soak the strips in water (I read somewhere that this was good to do)

You have to work fairly quickly because the gobo starts to discolor, which I guess was my mom's point of working 'under water'. In fact, the water changes color too (I do not want to know why) so I usually change the soaking water once. Because it discolors, I work with one root before moving onto the next.


I don't think it needs to be soaked for very long but I find it convenient to let it soak on the counter while doing other things. Then when I'm ready, I give it a quick drain, and dump it while still wet into a hot pan where I let it sort of steam/saute. Sometimes I cover the pan, often I add a little more water. I wait until the water has all but disappeared then start to add seasonings. The more water that is added, the softer the finished product will be, but since I like crunchy gobo, I don't add very much. Then I begin adding soy sauce and sugar to taste, a little drizzle and sprinkle at a time, cooking it until the soy sauce has been fully absorbed.


To finish, I add some black pepper and sesame seeds, and a little sesame oil. You really can't go wrong with the combination of soy sauce, sugar and sesame oil. This tastes fantastic while still warm, at room temperature, or cold. A spicy version could be made too with the addition of red pepper flakes or jalapenos. I have no idea if this is the same kind of gobo my dad loves, or if it's like what other people make, but I love eating it. Brings me back to my roots. Har har har.