Doria is a warm blanket in a ramekin, an embrace in a casserole dish. This Japanese dish sits firmly in the canon of yōshoku, Western-inspired meals, and while the final product is reminiscent of a gratin, the meal is simmered with a base sauce prepared beforehand. Doria fillings run the gamut of your preferences — myriad proteins work exceedingly well here — while also serving as a keen means of utilizing extra vegetables. In this instance, diced chicken is folded into onions, mushrooms, carrots and spinach. That sauce overlays the rice in its entirety. Doria is a filling, comforting meal, perfect for taking care of yourself and those you hold dear. —Bryan Washington
It couldn’t have been on our first date since I definitely remember that. After all, I was the one who planned it. Taking the train down to Shinjuku, we walked through the Saturday crowds in Kabuki-cho to this Javanese restaurant I liked. It might have been called Jakarta or maybe Surabaya…or Solo? I can’t recall. Back in those days, I was obsessed with Java. I spent many happy days studying dance in Yogyakarta and then in Ubud, in Bali. I was so in love with those beautifully sunny islands that Tokyo was still barely a blip on the radar of my heart. All I wanted to do was save up some money and get back to beautiful Indonesia.
But then I met Tetsuya.
I think the first time —and maybe the only time!— I ate “doria” was that first year in Japan, in mid-summer. We had probably taken refuge from the intense humidity that made breathing feel ,more like drowning inside the air-conditioned shopping mall above the Keio Seiseki-Sakuragaoka train station and popped into a yōshoku (洋食, western food) restaurant.
Tetsuya called the doria “gratin.” But, gratin with no potatoes? Okay, that was a first…. ~~~and so was rice covered in béchamel sauce with melted cheese on top…?!?!
I would only later learn about the Admiral Doria of battle of Lepanto fame for whom the dish was named. There he is below, painted as Neptune, by Bronzino. Apparently, this dish was concocted in Japan by Swiss chef Saly Weil —in the 1930s. Working at the famous Grand Hotel in Yokohama, he came up with the recipe trying to make something to please their clientele.
Anyway, fast forward thirty years! The other day, coming across Bryan Washington’s recipe for doria in the New York Times (I am a very big Bryan Washington fan!), I was overcome with memories and started on a quest to recreate the doria we ate that day in the restaurant above the Station. I didn’t use Washington’s recipe from the New York Times, since the doria we had that day was shrimp doria in a Japanese-fish-broth- infused béchamel sauce—and Washington’s is more like a chicken casserole anyway.
This recipe for prawn doria is closer to what I remember. It took a few tries but I think I am getting closer…. not good enough for a photo yet though…
I realized that the doria rice is similar to the one I make for “omurice.” I don’t use garlic in my version, which is basically chopped onion, two Tbs ketchup, and a small amount of spice: half a Knorr bouillon cube, nutmeg, tumeric, cinnamon, cumin and paprika (like this)—which I saute in butter with prawns, carrots and rappini. I fold all this into the egg. Rice looks like this:
Bryan Washington has also written about Omurice (of course!)
I loved the episode omurice on Tokyo Diner (recipe).
Here is the glorious kimono-mama making it perfecto:
Notes
I love everything Bryan Washington writes—but my absolute favorite New Yorker story by him is “Heirlooms.”
Japan Times chicken and shrimp doria recipe
Other food stuff:
Food really does connect the history of our lives such that the suggestion of timelessness is always hinted at without any disruption by mortality.
In the video game Mother 3, one of the 7 Magypsies is named Doria. It is the only other place I’ve heard this word. Since it’s a Japanese game, I wonder if there’s a link 🤔