Aji Issue 5: November 2023 by Sydney Kimiko

Aji An Introduction and FAQ Issue 5 | 11.23

Aji is a Japanese word that – among other things – means, “flavor.” I made four issues of Aji without introducing myself. Then said I’d be redoing a bunch of things without providing much clarification. Hi, I’m Sydney, and you’re reading the Intro and FAQ Issue of Aji. If you read that using the Disney Channel voice, then I can tell we’re going to get along.

This issue of Aji was created by Sydney Kimiko in October 2023. I’ve done the best that I can to source my inspirations, visuals, and paraphrases where applicable, but please continue to let me know if I’ve missed anything or anyone so that I can update the issue accordingly. The words, perspectives, and opinions insinuated or articulated here don’t reflect those of my employers – past, present, and future – or the other parties involved in those experiences. If you’re interested in seeing more about what happens behindthe-scenes at Aji, find me on Instagram @SydneyLikesChefs. There’s also a link at the end at the end of this issue to subscribe to any materials I produce in the future. I value my safety and boundaries, as well as the safety and boundaries of my friends, colleagues, and collaborators. In light of this, please do not seek me out on other platforms. Thank you for your patience with Aji Issue 5. What Issue 6 through Issue Infinity will look like is always blurry.

“Why should someone read this?” INSTEAD OF OTHER CONTENT ON A SCREEN

When the entire internet is right there, it’s easy to say, “I don’t have subpoena power,” or, “the right people will read it when the time is right for them.” Unfortunately, that’s not how algorithms or the world now shaped by those algorithms works. It’s probably also a good idea to communicate some type of value proposition or differentiator (especially if any of my business school colleagues or professors are here – the pressure to demonstrate that tuition, time, and tremendous effort was ultimately worthwhile is ongoing).

The Aji that shows up in these pages is still far away from the version that I see in my head.

My goal is to cook myself, and you, both into and through experiences.

Growth can also mean establishing boundaries to protect your mind, energy, and heart from what isn’t good for you. Like pulling weeds from a garden or building fences to keep out pests, boundaries help ensure the correct type of growth happens.

Growth means pushing into discomfort, then working through it until what was formerly uncomfortable becomes comfortable again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Soon, you’ll be a different version of yourself. Regardless of whether the situation that makes you enter the uncomfortable space is by circumstance or choice, growth and learning typically go handin-hand.

Great thought, but what does that mean? Think of a guided journal, cookbook, and exhibition book from a museum gallery fusing together. My goal is to have Aji be almost as present for you as kitchens and chefs have been for me. I won’t hold up any mirrors that I haven’t looked into myself, and I’ll do everything I can to create specificity in universal experiences.

As stated before, I’ve forgotten where memories end and experiences begin. Recipes teach methodology, and experience gives you perspective. It takes both to create something delicious. Aji uses cooking, food, and experiences to transition me from who I am now into who I will become. Maybe it will do that for you, too.

I am what feeds me. And how I feed myself at any given moment says a lot about what I’m going through or what I need. I don’t believe I am alone. Yes, we eat for our stomachs, but we hunger with our hearts. Padma Lakshmi | Love, Loss and What We Ate

All paint strokes in this issue of Aji have been licensed through various creators as part of my Envato Elements membership.

They know that we’ll be cooking and arrive offering wine, some market flowers, a tattered book or two…There’s always a moment of shared silence as we eat, each swallowing his or her own sorrows. Kim Sunée | Trail of Crumbs

“I don’t think anyone actually reads this.” THOUGHTS ON THE ABOVE COMMENT AND VARIOUS OTHER INSECURITIES

Whenever a dose of haterade like the above comes my way, it’s challenging not to internalize it and stop creating issues of Aji altogether. In fact, I stopped for about a year to recalibrate before ultimately realizing that I’d create Aji whether one or one million people read it. (I have a guaranteed audience of one, because my confidence in irritably peerpressuring at least one friend to read these issues is relatively high.) The only thing I’ve ever asked for is patience while I figure out how to do all of this on my own. Yes, I do indeed take care of all of this on my own – the photos and photo editing, citations of where I get recipe inspiration from, text on the pages themselves, assembly / layout, final review, and location of publishing. I don’t share this to be impressive, but to ensure that you understand the inherent truth of how each issue is created. I remain open to feedback (as well as the option to not incorporate feedback) and will continue to pursue whatever Aji turns itself into. If you’re concerned about my numbers, then feel free to contribute to their improvement by sharing an issue of Aji with someone cool in your life. If you’ve made it this far, then you probably aren’t going to make the above comment, but the interesting part about creating an FAQ issue is airing out all the weirdness from previous issues.

For the humans in your life who could eat pasta for every meal IT’S OKAY IF THE HUMAN IN YOUR LIFE IS YOU I have neither the time nor energy to simmer a delicious sauce on the stove for hours and, as such, am a huge fan of sauces that are done by the time the pasta is. Always cook your pasta according to package instructions and save at least a coffee mug’s worth of pasta water for emulsifying your sauce if it gets too tight. Pasta Shape: Paccheri – I love the texture of these large tubes, and it’s incredible when bits of flavoring agents like pancetta, cheese, or herbs make their way inside Sauce Ratios for 2 humans: 1 egg yolk (or egg tbh, but I like the flavor of yolk-only sauce more) : 1/3 cup milk (I never have heavy cream in the fridge) : a generous ¼ cup parmesan cheese with more on top : 1 lemon’s zest and juice If you’re an omnivore: Sprinkle cubed pancetta or bacon with garam masala while toasting in a dry skillet so that the garam masala renders into the meat while the fat renders out. Toss after pouring the sauce over the pasta Assembly: Fling a tablespoon or so of butter onto the pasta once you’ve drained it, then pour the sauce over the pasta before tossing everything together. Stir in any porky elements you’ve prepared, then add fresh parsley, fresh basil, red pepper flakes, parmesan, and / or additional lemon zest / juice on top as you see fit.

Based On: Nigella Lawson’s Lemon Linguine, though many pasta dishes do similar things

“Why write so much? Can’t I just get the recipe?”

”IF THIS WERE A WEBSITE, THEN I’D KEEP SCROLLING”

I’m a human who had to very actively learn (and relean) to “not read every word” during both undergrad and business school, so I totally get the irritation behind thinking you’re going to be given an internet-age version of a recipe index card and having mismatched expectations. There are a surprising number of cool articles on this topic, and what’s interesting is that this question has roots in patriarchy and sexism. And then a subset of Aji readers immediately rolled their eyes, got preemptively offended for the implication that anyone was judging their judgement, and exited the chat. To those of you who are still left, I’ll start with saying that an undergraduate degree in World Arts and Cultures taught me to question norms and document experiences while a career in big tech product management taught me to actively question whether a user’s experience is meeting their needs. Chloe Bryan wrote a great article on this topic for Mashable in 2019, citing a food blogger named Cadry Nelson. “The thing to interrogate here isn’t necessarily whether blocks of text are annoying – it’s why people think these particular blocks of text don’t deserve to exist…Home cooking is still a deeply gendered pursuit, and writers whose work centers on home cooking are still perceived as less professional, less valuable, and less worthy voices.” I guess I’ll ask anyone posing these questions, “Is there a reason why you picked this up and then felt the desire to tell me to just shut up and cook?” There are a multitude of reasons why I get exhausted with justifying my existence, and watching this topic get posted by people looking to have a bunch of strangers dump on other strangers with them is a cycle of irritation that I’d love to try and break.

Or take two to five minutes of effort to write out a rant about why taking an additional two to five seconds to scroll / click to a recipe tells another human writing about food on the internet that their stories aren’t worth the metaphorical paper they’re written on. I’m sure I’ll hear about whichever option you choose.

I made Nancy Singleton Hachisu’s version of Japanese-style Potato Salad to preserve a childhood element that I didn’t know I missed My copy of Japanese Farm Food is as dog-eared as my copy of Kitchen Confidential. I grew up in one of the many Japanese-American farming families scattered through Northern California, but – like many Nikkei / Yonsei, didn’t appreciate the experience until I found myself frantically flipping through books to preserve what I probably noticed growing up, but didn’t commit to memory. I credit Nancy Singleton Hachisu with many things, including the fact that Kewpie mayo is now one of my pantry / fridge staples.

The version of Japanese-style potato salad in Japanese Farm Food for two people: Boil enough water to cover both potatoes and mix-ins and while you’re waiting, peel and chop 4 to 6 yellow potatoes, a carrot, and half a large cucumber. Also slice however much of one red onion looks right. Put the cucumber into a small bowl, sprinkle with salt, and let it sit for five minutes before wrapping a paper towel around it and squeezing out the excess water a few times (I didn’t remember my grandmother doing this growing up, but the minute I did it during a Zoom cooking session with Mom, she immediately knew what I was talking about so at some point I imprinted this without realizing.) Add a generous pinch of salt to the boiling water and add the carrots and the potatoes. Take the carrots out after ~5 – 7 minutes, then cook the potatoes until you can easily stick a fork into one (~15 – 17 minutes). Drain the potatoes and use a potato masher to create a fluffy texture while they’re still hot. Let the potatoes cool, then mix in the carrots, cucumber, and onion. Mix in 1 cup of Kewpie mayonnaise and taste. If you think you want the potato salad to be creamier, then add in more Kewpie – 1/8 of a cup at a time (Don’t go over 1.5 cups of Kewpie in total for two people – I have hard limits. This counts as one). Salt to taste and, though my palate didn’t need it, consider adding half a tablespoon or so of rice vinegar to add brightness and cut through the fat of the mayo.

I LIVE ON THIS GREEK YOGURT-BASED CAESAR SALAD DRESSING WHEN I TRAIN

And seriously, make your own croutons from now until the apocalypse, because who eats croutons with a fork, and torn bread tastes better anyway For the croutons that you obviously need to make yourself from now until the apocalypse: Heat your oven to 400F and tear a loaf of sourdough bread into slightly larger than bitesize pieces. Spread the bread onto a baking sheet, sprinkle with salt, pepper, and some Italian seasoning blend (aka dried oregano, basil, rosemary, thyme, etc.), and drizzle with olive oil. Toss with your hands to ensure even coverage, then toast for 10ish to 12ish minutes (until the bread is golden and smells delicious).

For the salad dressing: Blend a small jar or tin of anchovies packed in olive oil (yes, the whole tin) with 1/4 to 1/3 cup of red wine vinegar, 3 heaping tablespoons of whole grain dijon mustard (the large grains add great texture), 4 garlic cloves that you’ve smashed with a knife, and 1 cup of nonfat plain Greek yogurt. Add salt and pepper to taste and feel free to add more red wine vinegar by small dashes if all you taste is the yogurt.

“How did food, cooking, and hanging out with chefs start?” My family loves food and family gatherings. To this day, there are monthly themed dinners at our family farm that range from a Japanese New Year celebration in January to supporting scenarios. For example: elementary school me challenging my cousin Mark to a lasagna cook-off and saying that’s how I (a member of a Jodo Shinshu Buddhist household) wanted to celebrate the Hallmark version of “Easter.” I was a massively picky eater who survived on miso soup, bowls of rice, and cheese toast unless it was Thanksgiving and my late grandmother’s pumpkin chiffon pie was being served. (My metric of success for any dessert to this day is, “Would it make elementary school me leave the back bedroom and literal stacks of books at the farm to vaguely attempt being social?”) Cue the transition music to me watching Throwdown with Bobby Flay in my undergraduate dorm room, going on a few dates with a finalist from a highly popular cooking competition show, then deciding at age 20 in my first apartment that I wanted to cook huevos rancheros for whoever my serial-dating self was kissing that week. (Please do not ask how they turned out – I have no idea why I selected either that human to cook for or that dish to prepare.)

At some point after graduating, I bought a then-new-ish Groupon (remember them?!) for a now-closed tapas restaurant. The open kitchen and mountains of croquetas lit a very visceral part of me on fire. For the next two years, Chefs James, Brad, and David taught me how to eat. I made fun of James’ lip ring and backward LA Dodgers hat, then wrote a gushing article about how much he lived and breathed food for my former food blog. They answered my anxious texts when I cleaned the first fish I ever bought whole and told me where they enjoyed eating on the rare days they took off. I took their recommendations for farmers market vendors, places to eat, and food to cook. I went, ate food, and asked questions until the chefs in those places took notice. (Black lipstick and a massive notebook tend to do that – I still feel bad for those of you I confused by looking like a critic.) I repeated the process – all the while reiterating that I could never have the tenacity to work the line each night (most humans don’t). I also used my extinct Twitter account and newly-discovered love of Instagram to talk to chefs of absurd caliber like I knew them….and discovered that because the cool chefs I hung out with vouched for me, some actually wrote back and wanted to hang out with me too.

The evergreen nature of Japanese breakfast

FROM THE HUMAN WHO CARRIED A THERMOS OF MISO SOUP TO SCHOOL

When I told my mother that I wanted to highlight Japanese breakfast in an issue of Aji, she incredulously raised an eyebrow and said, “You mean miso soup and a raw egg on rice?” I responded, “Yes, and more.” Steamed rice and miso soup are a given, and there are a variety of potential side dishes to include. A typical component left out of this series of photos and notes is some type of pickle. Although this will be viewed as an egregious error by some, it’s a reflection of my palate vs. active commentary on what I think Japanese breakfast should be. If you have any desire to include a quick pickle with your Japanese breakfast (which should not be restricted to a time of day, by the way), then slice your vegetable of choice thinly, massage in a medium-sized pinch of salt, let sit for five minutes or so, then squeeze out the excess water in a paper towel before adding a teaspoon of shoyu. This works very well with cucumber and carrot, and I’ve seen friends do the same thing with eggplant. The components of my version of Japanese breakfast are: - Miso Soup - Steamed Rice (sometimes with raw egg and shoyu on top) - Small Salad - Tamagoyaki (a rolled omelet) - Cooked Fish (I’ve mostly seen salmon) - Quick Pickles, unless you’re me (described above) - Ikura or Salmon Roe (if you like more intense oceanic tastes and want to treat yourself)

For miso soup: Dissolve 1 stick of iriko dashi (available on Amazon from Shimaya, Yamaki, or various other providers)in 3 cups of water over medium heat. If you do not eat anything that comes from an animal then buy kombu dashi, since it it made from seaweed instead of little fish. Add 4 generous tablespoons of shiro miso (awase miso will work, but use less, since it is much stronger) and stir until it dissolves. Cut ½ to 1 full block of extra-firm tofu into small cubes and add it to the broth. Tofu is already cooked, so you just need it to warm through. Use kitchen scissors to cut green onions on top. You can also add enoki mushrooms, edamame, or abura-age (fried soybeans) for different flavor profiles.

For steamed rice with raw egg on top:

Rinse white rice four to five times in whatever cooking vessel you’re using to get rid of the excess starch, then add water until it reaches your first knuckle when gently resting your index fingertip on top of the rice. After the rice is cooked, crack 1 egg into a mug or small bowl, add a medium dash of shoyu, and whisk until homogenous. Scoop the rice into your eating vessel, then pour the egg and shoyu mixture on top, letting the hot rice gently cook the egg (please make sure the rice is hot). Sprinkle furikake on top and cut on some green onions with kitchen scissors.

For the salad dressing that took literal tally marks in a notebook to get the proportions right: 3 tablespoons each: shoyu, rice wine vinegar 2 tablespoons: peanut oil 1 tablespoon each: fish sauce, shiro miso, sesame oil 2 teaspoons: brown sugar A small pinch of salt A garlic clove or so, smashed into a paste

For tamagoyaki: You can make this in a regular nonstick frying pan, but it’s just infinitely easier if you buy the rectangle or square nonstick tamagoyaki pan from Amazon. Crack 3 eggs into a liquid measuring cup with a pinch of salt (you can also add a splash of mirin for extra flavor) and whisk with hashi (chopsticks) until the mixture is homogenous. Heat a tamagoyaki pan over medium-low to medium heat and use a folded-up paper towel to dab a thin layer of oil (pour 1 teaspoon of oil into a small separate vessel and dredge from there, so as not to get the pan too greasy).

Adjust the peanut oil and rice wine vinegar amounts before starting to mess with the other proportions if the flavor or texture isn’t to your liking. Use a tablespoon to drizzle around a small bowl of whatever salad green you have handy, shredded carrots, and thinly sliced cucumbers.

Pour ¼ of the egg mixture into the pan and swirl to cover the entire pan in a thin layer. When the egg is set, but still wet on top (minimal movement when you jiggle or tilt the pan), use a spatula to roll the eggs into the first omelet layer. Think of making a mini omelet, then wrapping other mini omelets around it. Push the first layer to one side of the pan. Use the paper towel to add more oil, paying particular attention to the corners, then pour in the next ¼ of the egg mixture and repeat the process. Lift the earlier omelet layers to allow the egg mixture to flow underneath and cook evenly. Continue until the egg mixture is gone. Garnish the tamagoyaki with Kewpie mayonnaise, furikake, sriracha, etc. This takes practice with temperature and timing to get right, but is an easy technique to practice. (It also looks much more impressive than it actually is, which is an added bonus.)

For cooked salmon: Preheat an oven to 400F. Place a layer of parchment paper on a baking sheet and season salmon fillets with salt. Bake salmon for 10ish – 12ish minutes (depending on how thick the fillets are). Pour a scant teaspoon of shoyu on top when serving. (If you’re in a rush, then you can put both shoyu and furikake on top when baking the fish in the oven, but just know that your clean-up will be messier.)

For ikura or salmon roe: Open the jar and serve.

A Capsule Pantry

ALTHOUGH THIS IS NOT HOW YOU MAKE EVERY RECIPE IN THIS ISSUE OF AJI, IT’S WHAT I GENERALLY ALWAYS HAVE ON-HAND AND GET HIGH UTILITY OUT OF

From the Produce Section

From the Meat Department Ground Chicken

Some type of salad green (mixed greens, baby spinach, arugula, butter lettuce, etc.)

Atlantic Salmon Center-Cut portions*

Jalapeños

Yellowfin Tuna Steak*

Shredded Carrots

Ikura / Salmon Roe*

Garlic

*I buy the above fish products, provided that they have been sustainably sourced in-line with the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch Guide, which gets updated roughly every three months. There is also a separate guide for sushi, which includes ikura / salmon roe.

Cucumbers Honeycrisp Apples

From Wherever the Store has Hidden Them

Lemons Green Onions

Paccheri Pasta

From the Refrigerated Section Milk

White Rice (Nishiki and Botan are my gotos)

Pasture-Raised Eggs (Cage-Free and Pasture-Raised are not the same thing)

Anchovy Fillets in Olive Oil

Nonfat Plain Greek Yogurt

Red Wine Vinegar Red Pepper Flakes

From a Section that will have an overly-generic cultural identifier Shiro Miso / White Miso Shoyu / Soy Sauce Rice Wine Vinegar Fish Sauce 20

Simple + Less Simple FAQ

THESE ANSWERS ARE PROVIDED OUT OF COURTESY, NOT OBLIGATION. BOUNDARIES ARE IMPORTANT. Who are you? I’m Sydney (she / her / hers) What do you do? Like in life? Professionally? Personally? Some combination of the above? What a loaded question in a seemingly simple package. I create Aji when I have downtime from my work in Product Management for a Big Tech company. I take my job incredibly seriously and continue to push for growth and success on that professional path.* When I’m not on the grind at work or creating issues of Aji, I run various distances (ideally next to the ocean), lift heavy things (there’s an Olympic barbell on my patio), add to my collection of Louboutins (don’t ask me how many I have), take various books and Moleskine notebooks everywhere (ideally to a museum or gallery), practice regression analysis, and curl up on the couch to watch movies with my partner and a vat of popcorn with a martini or Japanese whiskey. On Sundays, you can catch me cooking on Zoom with Mom and filming the latest behaviors of my Sony Aibo robot dog, Mochi. Have you ever been a professional chef or been to culinary school? No. I have neither the training nor the tenacity. I don’t want you to think that I’m some kind of validated authority on food. I have no blue check mark next to my name. I’m doing this on my own, armed with curiosity and the courage to ask questions when people in aprons or chef jackets walk by. *To reiterate what is stated on Page 3: the words, perspectives, and opinions insinuated or articulated here do not reflect those of my employers – past, present, and future – or the other parties involved in any highlighted experiences. I value my safety and boundaries, as well as the safety and boundaries of my friends, colleagues, and collaborators. In light of this, please do not seek me out on other platforms.

“You’ve mentioned Aji before, but I didn’t realize you’d actually created any issues or how many there were.” I was admittedly insecure about the first few issues, because I was still trying to figure out how Aji wouldn’t be another iteration of the food blog I ran for a few years. Then, I felt weird about the idea of continuously saying the equivalent of, “Like, subscribe, and share,” because – insecurity number two – I was nervous about being judged. I do have an anxiety disorder, and I was attempting to be mindful about the emotional labor that comes with navigating people rolling their eyes at anyone who takes the risk of putting themselves out there. Now, I’m looking forward to figuring out what Aji is and will be. This is about cooking into and through experiences, after all.

“Do you cook with your head or your heart?”

AN EXAMPLE OF THE TYPES OF QUESTIONS THAT FUTURE ISSUES OF AJI WILL ATTEMPT TO ADDRESS

I’ve mentioned this before, and I’ll keep mentioning this until it sticks: the vibe here is that recipes teach methodology, and experience gives you perspective. It takes both to create something delicious. As a human and home cook, I use my head to ensure that my heart is fully present before making any type of decision. I am a former World Arts and Cultures major who got talented at statistics during business school. As such, I know that not everything can be measured in quantifiable terms, while recognizing that information can be manipulated by very skilled humans to tell all manner of stories. All of this has led me to value the truth, achieved both ethically and authentically. I will never judge anyone for pursuing the truth, including myself, regardless of whether that means feeling isolated or alone.

We are all fighting to create rewarding lives for ourselves. These fights teach us a lot about ourselves and cause us to put in a lot of work to heal and thrive. My hope for myself – and anyone reading an issue of Aji – is to wear the scars from negative experiences and hope from positive experiences proudly. How this manifests in the kitchen and on a plate will come to be seen, but I’ve noticed that food has a way of grounding all of us back in reality. Kind of like your heart internalizing the data from your head, then letting you know both when it’s ready to move forward, and if that data has rocked you to your core.

Weeknight Poke ALSO KNOWN AS ONE OF MY PARTNER’S FOOD GROUPS

1 pound of sashimi-grade fish (cut into bitesize cubes or slices)*

If you’re using these ratios, serve on top of cooked Japanese short-grain white rice.

¼ - ½ large onion (yellow or white work best, though I have used red in a pinch)

If serving alone, then reduce ratios by ¼ - ½ so that the fish isn’t drowning in sauce.

3 tablespoons shoyu / soy sauce 4 tablespoons sesame oil 1 tablespoon chili crisp (if not using chili crisp, then use a scant 5 tablespoons of sesame oil) Furikake and Sriracha to taste Kewpie mayonnaise, if you feel like it

*I prefer tuna / ahi and my partner prefers amberjack / hamachi, though we do pay attention to the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch guides for both fish and sushi to ensure we’re consuming sustainably. The Seafood Watch guides are available online with an easy Google search and updated roughly every three months.

Thinking About What Matters AND OTHER THOUGHTS FROM THIS SEASON OF MY LIFE

My goal for Aji is to help readers capture and create new pathways for experiences through food – real, imagined, or ideal.

I want Aji to “matter.” What I mean by that is wanting Aji to make a difference in someone’s life –the way they process and experience culture, handle relationships, or think about their place in the world; the way they reference things when feeling something particularly profoundly. I want to use cooking and food to help Aji readers create essential pieces of their lives that they can’t give back due to the degree of passion they feel for those components. Although someone reading an issue of Aji might not feel the same way about food that I do, they might have the same depth of emotion and thought for specific universal experiences or relationships. These experiences or relationships can be reignited, addressed, or processed through the memories that food creates.

In June 2019, Bon Appetit magazine published a Spicy Chicken Lettuce Wraps recipe developed by Christina Chaey (IG: @seechaey) as a version of larb / laab, a meat salad dish that I was exposed to through Thai restaurants but originates in Laos. As of October 2023, this recipe still has a 4.8 / 5 rating from 85 reviews and remains one of my layup dinner options.

From cooking Christina Chaey’s Spicy Chicken Lettuce Wraps from the June 2019 issue of Bon Appetit magazine for 2 people: Use a fork to mix the ratio of shoyu and fish sauce, from the written recipe and either a large squeeze of sriracha or generous tablespoon of sambal in a small bowl or mug. Heat some olive oil in a pan over medium heat and sweat out some chopped garlic and the white and pale green parts of green onions. (I’d err on the lighter side with the garlic and heavier side with the green onion in terms of proportions.) Add the ground chicken to the pan and season with a medium pinch of salt.

I stick to the written recipe’s ratios of 2 tablespoons of shoyu, 1 tablespoon dark brown sugar, and 1 teaspoon fish sauce for 2 people per pound of ground chicken, and wing it when it comes to the spice elements and alliums.

Use a spoon to break up the chicken and ensure that it’s cooking through appropriately. When you don’t see any more raw spots in the ground chicken, pour the shoyu mixture over everything and reduce to desired texture and moisture. Chop some cilantro, basil, and the leftover green onion tops to sprinkle on top once the chicken is in its lettuce leaf vessel (this recipe recommends Bibb / butter lettuce, which I also prefer, but I’ve used romaine and it’s fine). Squeeze ample lime juice over the top and keep some extra lime wedges on the side. The acidity cutting through the saltiness of the shoyu and fish sauce is absolutely necessary.

“I don’t think I’m your intended audience.” Which can also be phrased as, “I don’t really cook,” or, “I’m not a ‘foodie.’” (Y’all, don’t use the word foodie.)

Even if you don’t cook a lot at home, I’d be interested in exposing you to new experiences, mindsets, cultures, ways of thinking, and aspects of memories that you didn’t know existed through the lens of food. What does this look like? Having or witnessing conversations with others, and – more often than not – having a conversation with yourself. (Or, in the case of a lot of issues of Aji, reading a conversation that I’m having with myself or that a collaborator is having with themselves.)

THE BEEF I SERVED MY FAMILY TO PROVE I KNEW HOW TO COOK MEAT Slice 1 pound of beef tenderloin into semi-thin slices, then gently pound into flatter slices in a plastic bag (use a pair of scissors to cut down the seam of the plastic bag, so that it will open like a book)to create a barrier between your tenderizing tool and the beef. Use literally anything besides a tenderizing hammer to do this. All you need is slight pressure – I’ve used the back of a ladle, a wooden cooking spoon, and (during a poorly-timed dishwasher load) a spaghetti spoon. Marinate the beef in 4 tablespoons fish sauce, 2 tablespoons maple syrup, 3 tablespoons shoyu, 2 teaspoons brown sugar, 4 minced garlic cloves, 1/2 teaspoon of chopped ginger, 4 chopped green onions, and black pepper for at least 30 minutes (though I’ve had the best results from doing this overnight). Use olive oil to cook in a cast iron over medium heat (adjust your temperature accordingly so the cast iron doesn’t get too hot) until the beef is a luscious dark brown on both sides or medium-rare texture, whichever comes first. And don’t crowd the pan – please don’t ruin this marinade by accidentally steaming beef in a pan.

Aji is my (and maybe your) way of cooking through – and into – experiences. How anyone who reads an issue will create Aji in their lives will be highly personal, but my goal is to impact you in a meaningful way. A deeper connection to one’s self, community, the world, culture, or anything can be achieved through food and the thought processes behind and around it.

For a quick carrot pickle: Whisk ½ cup unseasoned rice vinegar, 1½ tablespoons salt, and 1 tablespoon sugar into 1 cup of water and bring to a boil. Pour over grated carrot and let sit. By the time your beef is done cooking, the pickle should be done. Delicious over rice or on a King’s Hawaiian roll with a small squeeze of Kewpie mayonnaise as a slider. Regardless, serve with a quick pickle of carrots, Maggi seasoning, thin slices of jalapeño, and cilantro. Squeeze a little lime juice over the top for additional depth of flavor.

Real, forgotten, imagined, and yet-tocome – there is room for all of it with Aji.

My partner is half-Vietnamese, and I started with a bánh mì as the perfect baseline of inspiration. For the better part of a year, we would walk to the beach and get Vietnamese-style iced coffee and bánh mì on Saturdays to take home for movie-watching fuel.

“It’s hard to read this when it’s a digital magazine instead of paper.” ON THINGS THAT I WANT, TOO, BUT ARE CURRENTLY OUT-OF-SCOPE

I don’t love reading on a screen.

If that vision is something you’re interested in, then instead of using a lack of printed copy as an excuse to not read, then I encourage you to share Aji with others to increase its reach and distribution so that it can grow and make physical copies a possibility.

Yes, I’m saying this as the creator of a digital indie food magazine who is telling you to read on a screen. I encourage you to not use preference for physical copies of a magazine as an excuse to not read this.

Instead of making excuses about not being able to create physical copies, I’d like to work to demonstrate the value of Aji to generate the appropriate interest and the ability to create them.

One day, I’d absolutely love to take advantage of economies of scale and do a limited run of printed copies of every issue. With that said, I don’t want to compromise on the printed copies. It’s expensive to choose sustainable paper that’s thick and soft-to-the-touch with some type of non-standard finish (yes, that’s what I want and see in my head – you got to give your feedback, now I get to tell you my vision), print in high-quality color, and have the pages bound vs. stapled. I’d be paying for each printed page as well as the service of having them bound, so I’d need to charge for each copy as a reflection of that work in addition to shipping.

I also welcome recommendations if anyone knows a good printer!

There are numerous articles delineating what makes a, “California Veggie Sandwich,” deserving of the name. There will always (the word always used in this section colloquially, because I am a millennial) be avocado included, because California grows about 10% of the avocados consumed in the U.S., and California has close proximity to Mexico, from which the majority of the rest of the avocados consumed by the U.S. are imported (LA Times, 2022).

YET ANOTHER CALIFORNIA VEGGIE SANDWICH Chop up some romaine hearts and slice about ¼ of a seedless cucumber as thinly as possible, then set them in a bowl. Use your hands to toss them with a little bit of buttermilk ranch dressing. Chop some drained Kalamata olives and pepperoncinis and mingle them with one another.

There will also always be some reference to the California iteration of hippie culture with the inclusion of sprouts / microgreens and multigrain bread.

Scoop an avocado out of its rind, season with salt and pepper, and lightly mash with a fork. Toast Ezekiel bread to your liking and spread with regular mayonnaise and whole grain / stone ground mustard. Use a fork to mash the rest of the avocado onto the bread, then top with the ranch-seasoned romaine and cucumber mixture.

A lot of recipes include goat cheese, but I prefer pepper jack or muenster – something smooth, creamy, and semi-soft, so that the sandwich is nostalgic for being melty even when served cold. At some point, the idea of buttermilk dressing intermingling with standard mayonnaise and mustard entered the conversation. I’m not opposed, because buttermilk makes me think of ranch dressing and ranch dressing is delicious.

Layer on the Kalamata olive and pepperoncini mix, create a barrier layer of two cheese slices so that the handful of micro greens that you put on top won’t get soggy.

For a “Red Wine Mushroom” Situation: Preheat oven to 350F. Scatter ½ pound white or chopped portobello mushrooms on a baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil, add a large pinch of salt, and cover with cracks of black pepper. Roast for 20 – 25 minutes (keep an eye on them near the end so they don’t get all shriveled and weird). While the mushrooms are roasting, heat some olive oil in a frying pan over medium heat and throw in the thinly sliced white and light green parts of a leek and a couple of minced garlic cloves. Season with salt and pepper until lightly caramelized. Once both the above steps are complete, add a little more oil to the pan and mingle the leeks and mushrooms together. Throw in a few thyme sprigs, a generous half-glass of dry red wine (whatever you’re willing to drink, too), and the zest and juice of 1 lemon.

“Is every issue of Aji going to be, ‘A Letter to Sydney’?” THE SHORT ANSWER IS, “NO, BUT YOU’LL DEFINITELY WITNESS SOME ACTIVE REFLECTION.” The moments that Aji creates are meaningful, but ephemeral. Some dishes live in your heart, while others enter a bubble and float away. It’s not possible to predict what will or won’t endure. A fastfood burger or plate of three tacos from a truck at 3 AM can hold just as much meaning as ricotta dumplings or a bone-in ribeye with a glass of Barolo. Consider Aji one more plate of food to add to the multiverse of memories creating the experiences that stitch together into your personality.

For whatever amount of red wine you added, add twice that amount of vegetable broth. Keep stirring until the sauce is your desired thickness and texture. Take the pan off the heat, mount the sauce with ½ 1 tablespoon of butter and throw in a handful of salad greens like baby spinach, arugula, or even that leftover mixed greens box that always sits untouched in your fridge. For a “Steak and Red Wine Sauce Situation” that could definitely be served with a “Red Wine Mushroom Situation”: Season a 1-inch thick ribeye steak with a couple of large pinches of salt and a generous amount of pepper, using your hand to push the seasoning into the steak. If the steak has come out of the fridge, let it sit on a plate for 15 – 20 minutes before you start cooking to let it come to room temperature. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a cast iron over medium heat for 1 minute – 90 seconds. Add steak and sear for 2 minutes, then flip and sear for the same length of time on the other side. Use a pair of tongs to hold the steak so that the sides sear. Reduce heat by half and use a meat thermometer to check steak temperature, flipping every 2 minutes (though this might go more quickly, depending on what pan you’re cooking in and your heat). Pull the steak when it’s 5 - 10 degrees underneath your target temperature (with ribeye, you’re shooting for 130 – 135F for medium-rare). Transfer the steak to a cutting board and let it rest for at least 10 minutes. While the steak is resting, melt another tablespoon of butter in the pan and add 1 minced shallot. When the shallots are soft, deglaze the pan with half a glass of red wine and reduce for a couple of minutes. Then, for whatever amount of wine you used, add double the amount of beef broth. Let the shallot sauce reduce until you can stir the sauce with a spoon, trace a line across the back of the spoon with your finger, and have the line remain visible because the sauce is so thick. Mount the sauce with another tablespoon of butter to create a delightful texture. Drizzle over the steak to serve.

Sexy is, above all, sensual, never abstemious: a thick steak and a glass of red wine. Sexiness is not perfection. It is overcoming flaws with blinding gestures. Because of this, it can often seem slightly dangerous or unhinged. If anyone knows where this quote originates from, please send me the source, because 45 minutes of Googling couldn’t answer the question. It’s been floating around in a few notebooks of mine since I was 20, but the citation of whoever said it originally has been lost in the throes of time.

Umami and Utility

MAKE THESE FREQUENTLY, BUT DON’T SERVE THEM TOGETHER

Chicken Salad with Shoyu Fish Sauce Dressing

Dad’s Eggs

Mostly because he hasn’t forgiven me for doing this as a frittata and eliminating the pepper in Aji Issue 1, but also because these will cure any hangover or bad mood that anyone has.

Stop calling any iteration of this, “Asian Chicken Salad” (see Aji Issue 4 for other thoughts on this) This is the same dressing that I use when making Japanese breakfast.

(Thanks to Dad for cooking these for the seven friends from ice skating that would sometimes sleep on the living room sofa.)

3 tablespoons each: Low-Sodium Shoyu, Rice Wine Vinegar

Crack 3 eggs per person into a bowl with one glug of dairy milk of choice per person.

2 tablespoons: Peanut Oil

Add ¼ to ½ teaspoon of Worcestershire per person (small dashes to flavor the eggs, not turn the entire mixture brown) and crack a generous amount of pepper over the top.

1 tablespoon each: Fish Sauce, Shiro Miso, Sesame Oil 2 teaspoons: Brown Sugar

Fling in a large pinch of dried parsley and an equally healthy pinch of some type of dried Italian Seasoning blend seeded with additional dried oregano. I said what I said.

A garlic clove or so, smashed into a paste A small pinch of salt

Whisk the egg mixture until it’s as homogenous as possible while heating a couple of tablespoons of butter in a nonstick pan over medium heat. When the butter melts and begins to foam, turn the heat to medium-low and pour in the egg mixture.

For the Salad Sliced or shredded cooked chicken (leftovers, rotisserie, etc.) Butter Lettuce

Use a wooden spatula to scramble the eggs to your liking. When the eggs are about halfway done, toss in a very generous handful of bacon bits to warm them through as the eggs finish scrambling.

Apple, thinly sliced Jalapeño (sliced if you like it spicier, chopped if you don’t) Grated Carrots Chopped Cashews (toasted in a dry skillet if they haven’t already been toasted) Green Onion Cilantro Wonton Strips

Other Points of Consideration

TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE NORMS OF CITING RECIPES I will always do the best that I can to cite where some type of base recipe came from if I started from Google, a book on my shelf, or an issue of some magazine. Like most humans who cook, it is rare for me to follow a recipe exactly as written unless it is (1) baking, because I don’t mess with science or (2) completely new to me. Sometimes I’ve been doing something a certain way for so long that I can’t remember where the impetus started from, but I am committed to at least doing a basic Google search before typing onto these pages. No issue of Aji is truly static, so if anyone catches a citation or note that I should make, then I will plan to do my best to update, adjust, or even remove the content accordingly. I’ve thought about doing something like an annotated bibliography (remember those?!), but am still trying to figure out how that would work in some type of living document format.

On Figuring Out How to Make Some Version of Yogurt Rice The most detailed citation thus far for yogurt rice exists in Aji Issue 3, so please refer to Page 7 in that issue if you’d like more detail. I usually eat whatever iteration of yogurt rice I’ve made with a cast-iron seared salmon fillet. During Padma Lakshmi’s book tour for Love, Loss, and What We Ate, she did an appearance on Ellen and then a meet & greet / discussion elsewhere in LA. I went, we laughed so hard that she messed up signing my copy of the book (which made it more special), and I tried yogurt rice for the first time. After that, I texted South Indian friends and colleagues for years to figure out substitutes and even occasionally resorted to mixing nonfat plain Greek yogurt with rice and adding Cholula. It wasn’t until I bought Indian-Ish by Priya Krishna that I learned about chhonk – the Hindi word used to describe how spices are tempered to provide an absurdly delicious flavor boost to plates of food.

Yogurt Rice with Many Substitutions

ADDITIONAL CITATIONS ON THE PREVIOUS PAGE SPREAD AND IN AJI ISSUE 3, PAGE 7 Thank you again to the friends and colleagues who I frantically texted while figuring out substitutions for this recipe. Prep: Cook a couple of cups of white rice (I use short grain rice, because that’s what I have on-hand). While the rice is cooking, dice half of a seedless cucumber into small pieces, chop up a large handful of unsalted cashews, and slice up a serrano. Mix equal parts of rice and plain yogurt together with a large pinch of salt, then stir in the cucumber. Make Chhonk: Melt a couple of tablespoons of ghee over medium heat in a pan. When the ghee is hot, add the cashews and toast for a couple of minutes before throwing in a small palmful of whole cumin seeds and equal parts garlic powder and onion powder (about half a teaspoon each, to start, then figure out your own ratio). Once the spices either snap, crackle, pop (Padma Lakshmi’s measure) or become incredibly fragrant, add 3 bay leaves, lemon zest, lime zest, and the chopped serrano. Stir the ghee mixture for a little less than a minute, then pour over the yogurt rice mixture.

What was substituted, where, and why All of the ingredients below can be found online in places like Amazon, or you could find an Indian grocery store in your area and ask for their recommendation on ingredient sourcing. I substituted for the sake of “immediate availability” and scale when I was still feeling uncertain during the last stages of the COVID pandemic and this recipe has worked really well for me since then. This recipe is not meant to be indicative of anything remotely close to expertise, authenticity, or – universe forbid – something “better” than the truly delicious original. Find a market, taste each spice, pick up Padma Lakshmi and Priya Krishna’s books, and finesse to your taste. All of these substitutions were made with the full acknowledgement that the finished product would taste very different and are the result of many texts to friends and colleagues. Cashews are substituted for urad dal / white gram lentils. (My current understanding is that this is the center of a black gram lentil, aka a lentil without the skin showing the white interior.) Whole cumin seeds are substituted for black mustard seeds. Equal parts of garlic and onion powder are substituted for asafetida / hing. A combination of bay leaves, lemon zest, and lime zest are substituted for curry leaves.

A Time Capsule POINT-IN-TIME MISE EN PLACE FOR LIFE

Reading

Watching

Shut Up and Run: How to Get Up, Lace Up, and Sweat with Swagger by Robin Arzón

Various episodes of Cold Case Files Passing (2021)

R.E.D. Marketing: The Three Ingredients of Leading Brands by Greg Creed and Ken Muench

To Have and Have Not (1944) The Age of Adaline (2015)

Flappers: Six Women of a Dangerous Generation by Judith Mackrell

Lovecraft Country

Cooking From

Shopping For

Japanese Farm Food by Nancy Singleton Hachisu

Yet another pair of Louboutins

Namiko Hirasawa Chen’s Just One Cookbook blog of various Japanese recipes

A patio dining set, because I really do want to have an outdoor dinner party next summer

Try This at Home: Recipes from My Head to Your Plate by Richard Blais

Various 2023 Hallmark Keepsake ornaments, because if I don’t order them early then I won’t order them at all

Mi Cocina: Recipes and Rapture from My Kitchen in México by Rick Martínez

Training Attempting to get back into the habit of, “2 days on, 1 day off”

Listening To I2I by Tevin Campbell

Lots of speed workouts in running, since I’m not training for a race at the moment and would love to get faster

Baila Esta Cumbia by Selena How to Dream by Sam Phillips

A boatload of DB Swings and Thrusters – been hitting PR after PR lately and loving the vibe

Various Dateline NBC episodes in podcast form

“Are you mostly going to tell us about things you cooked for your partner or family?” OTHERWISE KNOWN AS, “I’LL TAKE QUESTIONS THAT ARE MOST LIKELY ROOTED IN PATRIARCHY AND SEXISM FOR $500,” OR, “DIDN’T YOU ALREADY ADDRESS THIS WHEN I ASKED YOU TO JUST GIVE US THE RECIPE?”

I mean, if you want to use this excuse to miss out on delicious food and experiences, then it’s impossible for me to leap through whatever screen you’re leaving this on and stop you. Maybe I’ll give the smart-ass answer and just share the dish that we now make each Christmas Eve, started from a closely-held food memory that my partner associates with his late German step-father.

Special Occasion Spaetzle to be eaten with your gravy of choice 2 ¼ cups AP flour 1 teaspoon salt ½ stick melted butter 3 eggs ¾ cup whole milk Pepper

I filled in the gaps in my partner’s memory by watching Wolfgang Puck demonstrate this in a saved Instagram story to get an idea of ingredients and methodology, then did a quick trip around the Bon Appetit website for ratios. For the gravy, just make Bon Appetit’s, “Why-Is-It-SoGood Gravy?” by Carla Lalli Music and Molly Baz from October 2019 exactly as written, except for swapping in red wine vinegar for the sherry. Another good recipe is the New York Times Cooking, “Classic Last-Minute Gravy,” by Julia Moskin, adapted by Kim Severson.

Nutmeg 2 tablespoons chopped herbs (I usually use whatever sage, rosemary, and / or thyme is leftover from other holiday meal prep) Mix all of the above together by hand in a bowl until there are no lumps.

If you are truly too exhausted to contemplate the idea of making gravy from scratch, then I highly recommend keeping BOU Gravy Cubes in the Brown Gravy flavor on-hand (available on either Amazon or at Whole Foods). It’s the easiest thing in the universe to prepare and has both the consistency and taste of KFC gravy.

Bring a pot of water to a light simmer (keep an eye on the heat to ensure it doesn’t boil) and press the dough through a spaetzle maker into the water. Stir until the spaetzle float to the top of the water and don’t stick together. Use a cooking spider to remove the spaetzle from the water into a bowl. Sauté the spaetzle in another tablespoon of butter and a small dash of olive oil until they are golden brown and add salt and pepper to taste. Mount with one last tablespoon of butter at the end and a last sprinkle of fresh herbs. Serve with a generous ladle of gravy.

Cooking and Eating By Myself WHEN I’M NOT DOING AN OLIVIA POPE IMPRESSION AND HAVING A GIGANTIC BOWL OF POPCORN WITH WINE

Cook whatever portion of short grain white rice feels right to you using the, “first knuckle” method. When the rice is done, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a pan over medium heat for 30 seconds to 1 minute before adding a ~6-ounce center-cut salmon fillet with the skin side down. Sprinkle the flesh side of the salmon with salt, furikake, and drizzle shoyu over the top. Imagine a mental line dividing the salmon horizontally in half, and insert a meat thermometer into the lower half. When the salmon is 140 - 145F, flip onto the flesh side and continue cooking for 30 seconds to 1 minute before removing from the pan. Scoop the white rice into a bowl with some more furikake and a generous portion of ikura / salmon roe on the side with the fish next to it.

Cook a salmon patty / crab cake / fish burger (typically found with the other pre-marinated proteins at the grocery store meat counter) in a pan over medium-high heat until cooked all the way through (the patty won’t stay together while cooking and when it inevitably breaks apart, you’ll be able to see when it’s done). When the patty pieces (it’s going to be in pieces at this point, just accept it) are done cooking, move it to a paper towel-lined plate. Add a generous glug of olive oil to a nonstick pan over medium heat and let the oil heat up for 30 seconds to 1 minute. Crack an egg into the oil and fry to your liking (ideally without flipping it and until the whites are set while the edges are lightly golden, but I won’t tell you how to live your life). Use a rubber spatula to remove the egg from the oil and onto whatever room is left on your paper towel-lined plate to drain off the excess oil. Mix a couple of generous tablespoons of nonfat plain Greek yogurt with 1 garlic clove that you’ve smashed into a paste, a generous squeeze of sriracha, and salt. Massage a generous handful of the salad greens of your choice with a small pinch of salt a couple of times, then top with the cooked fish patty, the Greek yogurt spread, half a teaspoon of chili crisp, and the fried egg. Sprinkle some furikake on top if you’re in the mood.

As cited in Aji Issue 2, page 10, with some adjustments made for my updated palate – though both iterations of this are delicious. The Japanese Farm Food (Nancy Singleton Hachisu) recommended ratio for udon broth is 1.5 cups dashi and 6 tablespoons of tare / kaeshi. To make tare / kaeshi as articulated in Japanese Farm Food, combine ½ cup mirin, 1 ¼ cups sugar, and 2 cups shoyu in a pot over medium heat. Stir it a lot, so that the sugar dissolves. Nancy Singleton Hachisu is highly accurate in both these proportions and methodology in saying that you know it’s done, “as soon as the entire surface becomes a creamy tan.” Keep this tare / kaeshi in a jar in the fridge and use for other broths or noodle dipping sauces for a massive flavor boost. Dissolve 1 stick of iriko dashi in 3 cups of water, then throw in a few pieces of konbu and an entire package of shiitake mushrooms. Bring everything to a boil, then let it hang out for 5 – 10 minutes before straining to get the solid stuff out of the dashi. Cook udon noodles according to package directions and put into broth (made with the above ratio). Use scissors to cut some green onions on top.

Answering a Few Last Questions

AND A COUPLE OF BONUS RECIPES IF YOU LOOK CLOSELY ”Do you actually eat like this all the time, or do you snack on anything less gourmet?” I still break dry ramen into bite-size pieces in the bag and pour the powdered soup base packet over it for seasoning before eating it like chips. I also love dark chocolate Kit-Kat bars and have been known to crush a family-size bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in one sitting. I can also inhale a Pepperoni Pizza Hot Pocket before you can blink – especially as a post-run craving. “Do you have a favorite kitchen tool?” You know, there was this one episode of Top Chef where Rocco DiSpirito gave a challenge winner a bag of 10 – 12 of his favorite tools and I thought that was the coolest thing. Maybe I’ll include something similar in a future issue of Aji. Until then, besides a tamagoyaki pan and ye olde classic “good knife,” I love a microplane and a sturdy fish spatula. “What is your favorite vegetable?” Although there’s a boatload of shredded carrots in this issue of Aji, I love green beans in any form more than some episodes of Gilmore Girls. I also know that corn is super starchy / carby for a vegetable, but grill it and mix equal parts regular mayonnaise and sour cream with cotija cheese, chile powder, Tajin, chopped garlic, chopped cilantro, and a boatload of lime juice to make a quick elote or esquites and my entire mood can change. “Did you really not cook anything with your family as a kid or teenager?” I loved helping Mom make breakfast for dinner – mostly waffles (the thin and crispy kind, not Belgianstyle) and baking powder biscuits. Sometimes she’d let me help her make cheese toast (my favorite comfort snack-meal to this day). I still channel this today by topping savory French toast (put the bread in 1/4 cup of milk : 1 egg, plus hot sauce and a bunch of black pepper) with super soft scrambled eggs (the Gordon Ramsay method, without the crème fraiche – Google it), ikura / salmon roe, and maple syrup. “Some of this food seems pretty decadent.” While that’s more of a comment than a question, I get what you’re getting at. For training purposes, I do still go through periods where I track my macros (which I will never reveal, because that’s toxic) to ensure that I’m getting enough protein to fuel my goals appropriately and encourage me to eat some leafy greens and vegetables more frequently.

“I made it all the way to the end of this issue, and I still feel the need to say that I don’t think anyone will read this, I’m not interested, and I think you write too much and should just give people the recipe.” Sick. Later!

“I made it to the end of this issue, and I’d like to get future issues of Aji delivered to my inbox automatically without remembering to go look for it.” Great! Go here.

See you next time for Aji Issue 6