Occasionally, for approximately 45 minutes, it feels like autumn in L.A., the breezes crisp, the morning light all mellow and pink. When this happens I immediately began craving washoku, Japanese home cooking, the food I used to make for myself in my tiny kitchen in Japan. Luckily, last week I had half a ginormous kabocha in the fridge, one of my favorite fall foods, and a recipe for kabocha no tori an kake, simmered Japanese pumpkin with ground chicken. It was just right: simple and warm, with that dashi-shoyu-sake scent steaming up the kitchen.

Foods like this, simple and homey, remind me of the Tanabes, a couple I knew during my second year in Japan. The husband studied English as a hobby and I was his fourteenth tutor in as many years. When I asked him why he studied English he said, "Because I used to play golf, but I started having problems with my arm." Um, okay. Despite his dubious motivation, he was an enthusiastic speaker and during our two-hour weekly conversations, we talked about everything from the American judicial system to kidnapped Korean potters in feudal Japan. But as it was sometimes difficult to find topics of conversation that interested both a retired Japanese businessman who loves baseball and a twenty-something American girl who is really into crafts, we usually ended up talking about food.

He and his wife had a field just down the road where they grew organic heirloom rice, planted and harvested by hand -- by no means the norm in Japan. Our lessons always took place over dinner, an often-elaborate meal prepared by his wife, always including a bowl of the family rice. There were occasionally special treats, like a taste of the first sake of the year, golden and sweet, made with their own rice and fermented under a kotatsu (heated table) in the next room. Or persimmons from their tree, peeled and sliced for dessert.

Though she and I never had an extensive conversation, Mrs. Tanabe thankfully being spared from tennis elbow and allowed to continue her own hobby, whenever she served something new, I would always ask about it and she would tell me, half in Japanese, half in English, about the ingredients and preparation. It was always washoku -- simple grilled fish, comforting simmered dishes, homemade pickles -- and her meals and my conversations with Tanabe-san probably taught me more about Japanese food and cooking than I ever taught him about English.

I didn't grow the rice or make the pickles, but a big bowl of simmered kabocha with Japanese rice on the side and a couple umeboshi to finish almost made me feel like I was back at the Tanabe's. It was the perfect thing to eat on a fleeting fall evening.

Kabocha no tori an kake (Simmered kabocha with minced chicken)

Adapted from Washoku by Elizabeth Andoh

Makes 4 servings

1/4 kabocha squash, about 10 oz
1 1/2 cups dashi
1 tablespoon sake
2 teaspoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon light-colored soy sauce*
1/4 lb ground chicken
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon water
1 green onion or a few fresh chives, for garnish

Remove the seeds from the kabocha, but leave the skin on. Cut into twelve chunks of roughly the same size. For a nicer-looking finished dish, bevel the chunks by trimming the pointed edges of each piece, leaving a more squared edge. This prevents the edges from getting banged-up and raggedy during the cooking, but if you can't be bothered, don't worry about it.

Mix the cornstarch with the water and stir well, making a thin paste. Set aside.

Arrange the kabocha chunks skin side down in a pot large enough to hold them in a single snug layer. Add enough dashi to just cover the pieces. Bring to a boil and cover, either with an otoshi-buta, a piece of foil cut into a circle just small enough to lie directly on the kabocha, or a regular lid placed slightly askew. (Be sure to occasionally swirl with pot if you use the regular lid, so the pieces will cook evenly.) Cook for 3 or 4 minutes, or until a fork or toothpick pierces the squash, but meets with some resistance.

Add the sake and sugar and carefully flip the pieces over so they are skin side up. Replace the lid and simmer for about 2 minutes. It should now be soft enough to be easily pierced by a fork, but not falling apart.

Add the soy sauces and continue to simmer, covered, for another two minutes. The pieces should be very soft now; test again with a fork. Transfer the kabocha pieces to individual serving bowls, keeping the simmering liquid in the pot.

Add the remaining stock to the pot and bring to a simmer. Add the chicken, stirring to break up lumps. The liquid will look cloudy and unappealing, but as the chicken cooks, the liquid will become clear and the chicken will turn white. Taste for seasoning and add salt if necessary.

Add the cornstarch-water mixture, raise the heat to high and cook, stirring constantly to keep the sauce smooth as it thickens. When the sauce is clear, glossy and thick, it is ready. Divide the sauce among the bowls of squash. Garnish with chopped green onion or snipped chives, if desired. Serve warm, with chopsticks and spoons.

*Available at Japanese or other Asian markets. This is not low-sodium soy sauce, but a lighter-colored sauce with a slightly different flavor. You may substitute regular soy sauce, but the flavor and appearance of the dish will be different.