Category Archives: Dinner

Dinner, Recipe

Mom, Music, and Memory, plus a Recipe for Hong Kong Style Steamed Cod

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As I have mentioned on several occasions, my memory is shit. However, by expanding my understanding of memory beyond mere recounting of facts, I have been able to embrace new forms of remembrance. For example, by making a meal I associate with comfort, I renew (or reinvent) the feeling of mom’s loving embrace. I may not recall particular conversations, but I can acknowledge that my present needs often determine the way I remember the past, making my relationship with my mother always active, real, and fulfilling. Short of believing in an afterlife, this is not bad!

I’ve been inviting sadness in for tea instead of letting it howl outside my door. With the decade anniversary of my mother’s passing coming up in February, I’ve been resisting my tendency to deny the feelings of despair, self-loathing, and loneliness that often come with my experience of sorrow. Because I’m very unseasoned at this (and much more comfortable with more seemingly active feelings, like anger), I’ve decided to engage a couple of strategies to make this process more palpable: (1) With one of the loves of my life, I am re-reading The Bridge of San Luis Rey, my mother’s favorite book and the source of inspiration for her funeral theme (“love is the only survivor); and (2) I’ve been revisiting my relationship with the piano/keyboard.

piano

Perhaps you know this about me: I’ve long conflated enjoyment with mastery, hobby with obsession, skill with worthiness. As a child entered into many a competition (piano, voice, flute, you name it) and as someone who has clearly internalized the idea that my value as a person only comes through increasing proficiency and validation, I’ve had a hard time approaching activities for “fun.” But recently, I’ve been drawn to the keyboard in my husband’s studio. Not because I want to be as good as I once was, or to impress anyone, but because I have some MAJOR feels when I do. Those emotions are both indescribable and unascribable. Though I’ve only been playing for 20 minutes at a time to relearn pieces I already know I love, I am feeling so much more moved and centered than when I used to practice for three-hours at a time in my youth. It’s possible that when I now play, I remember how my mom used to sit in during all of my lessons to take notes, not about technique, but about phrasing and feeling. Maybe I recall the ways in which my mom would help me visualize sections of Chopin nocturnes by color, to help me sort what it is I wanted to express and articulate. Perhaps I consider the ways in which my mother continues to help me figure out what I want to express and articulate. And, maybe it’s none of these things.

mama2

All I know is that when muscle memory starts to take over, my eyes close, tears arise, and I feel both closer and further from my mother than I ever have. I remember and don’t remember. I feel sad and grateful, cursed and blessed, lonely and loved, rejected and embraced. It’s weird and it’s great. I used to think sadness was simplistic, that it made me passive/useless. But through my mom, music, and memory, I’m finding that this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought. Sadness is both beautiful and complex, and invites an intricate interweaving of active revelations and dormant feelings.

My musician friends and boo may disagree with me here, but I think food and music hold similar possibilities of  emotional, intellectual, and visceral transformation. Nico and I recently watched Paolo Sorrentino’s latest film Youth. It was both fiercely intellectual and emotional, and I felt moved by this particular quote, stated by Michael Caine’s character:

You were right, music is all I understand. Because you don’t need words or experience to understand it. It just is.

I feel this way about food, too. What I sort of love about my new approach to re-membering is that I no longer need to keep it literal. To taste my mom’s tenderness, I don’t need to recreate a dish that she used to make. To remember the way she always supported my expression, I don’t need to play the exact pieces she helped with. Instead, I can open my eyes, ears, mouth, and heart to new things and invite her into new moments, new foods, new music.

For some reason, the meal below (steamed cod with soy/wine sauce + farro) reminds me of my mom’s tough and lecture-y love (“how are you supposed to fight with other people and communities when you can’t even be kind to yourself?”). Sometimes I need that kind of love. Maybe you do, too? 

 

The look of mama's stern and tender love

The look of mama’s stern and tender love

(For the musical rendition of this feeling, I listen to this:

And now, for the recipe.

fish

Hong Kong Style Steamed Cod w/ Soy/Wine Sauce and Fried Garlic
Recipe taken from Annielicious

Ingredients

  • 1 thick slice of Fresh Cod Fish Steak (About 1 inch thick)
  • 2 slices Ginger
  • a dash of pepper

For the Sauce

  • 1 tbsp Light Soy Sauce
  • 1 tsp Rock Sugar (You could use normal sugar if you don’t have rock sugar)
  • 1 tbsp Water
  • 1 tbsp Hsao Xing Wine

For Garnishing

  • 3 bulbs of garlic, finely chopped.
  • 1 tbsp Cooking Oil
  • some spring onions, cut into 1 inch length

Method

  1. Clean fish, pat dry. Place ginger on a steaming dish, place fish on top.
  2. Bring water in the steamer to a boil and steam fish over high heat for 6 minutes.
  3. While the fish is steaming half way, heat sauce ingredient in a pot and bring to a boil.
  4. Remove fish from the steamer, pour away the steaming liquid .
  5. Add a dash of pepper and drizzle sauce over.
  6. Fry chopped garlic with oil in another pan until golden brown. Don’t burnt it.
  7. Pour the hot garlic oil over, garnish with golden brown garlic and spring onions. Serve!

Coming Up…Announcing a 6-week “Diet” for 2016 (that I won’t hate!) and Knowing My Body

Dinner, Our States Our People Our Food, Recipe

Our States, Our People, Our Food: Chinese Immigration to Mississippi and a Recipe for Salt and Pepper Shrimp

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I’ve been spending a great deal of time thinking about what it means to be and feel Korean/Asian American in this country. As I read about the horrific incident at Spring Valley High and responses from apologists, I can’t help but wonder about the ways in which Korean-Americans are complicit in the demonization and oppression of our black and brown brothers and sisters. How can we can tangibly understand that our own empowerment is contingent upon the empowerment of (all) Others?

The U.S. not only has a long history of systemized racism, but also an old tradition of cleverly pitting oppressed groups against one another. When low-income black students “act out” in school, or perform poorly, they are compared to their “industrious” and “obedient” yellow counterparts without consideration of the many institutionalized differences between the communities (e.g. following passage of the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 and the liberalization of the U.S. national quota system, a larger number of highly educated and professional Koreans moved to the country, meaning many of the folks coming over had certain types of privilege that were decidedly unavailable to many low-income people of color already in the country or migrants from “less desirable” countries).

Today, I’m writing about Chinese immigration to Mississippi in the first installment of my new series “Our States, Our People, Our Food.” Of course, I don’t and can’t speak for Chinese communities, but I can make observations about both their incredible fortitude, and also the ways in which they benefited from social distancing from the black community.

Beginning in the mid-1800s, a number of Chinese immigrants were “shipped” to the American South from Cuba as a new source of cheap labor (though most arrived between 1910-1930). Following the Civil War and Reconstruction Era, white landowners were suddenly struck with the responsibility of paying for labor (poor them!). Many opted to hire cheap migrant laborers, likely to undermine the growing political power of freed black people. According to an article by Vivian Wu Wong called “The Chinese in Mississippi: A Race In-Between,” many southerners believed that utilization of Chinese immigrants would strengthen “white political power by displacing voting Negroes: for the Chinese…would not vote.” Good job, white people.

Historians say that initially, the Chinese were treated as poorly as black people – they were, after all, meant to displace black sharecroppers (though I think this is probably arguable). Initially, most migrants were men who came to supplement family income. They came to the U.S. not to settle, but to earn money to send to their families. This is important, because the Delta region wasn’t originally meant to be their home – therefore, economic success was more crucial than social and racial equity. After working on plantations and railroads, they turned to another activity – opening and running grocery stores. The first Chinese grocery store in Mississippi likely appeared in the early 1870s, and provided the community with some financial success.  Black businessmen could not open similar businesses because they lacked the resources to start their own businesses, and wholesalers refused to give them credit because…racism. It’s important to keep in mind that most immigrants were coming from Sze Yap, a district in south China that was more commercially sophisticated than many other parts of the country, with a history of contacts with foreign traders. Anywho, Chinese grocery stores were small, one-room shacks which carried only a few basic items, and the main clientele was mostly poor black laborers.

After Chinese men established their grocery stores, they would often send back home for a young male from their family to come and help the business succeed. This made for a strong thread of familial migration to Mississippi, and helped the community gain some economic success. According to an article entitled “Chinese in Mississippi: An Ethnic People in a Biracial Society” in Mississippi History Now, “For generations, grocery stores would be passed down from father to son, and as of the late 1970s, six family names accounted for 80 percent of the Delta Chinese population.”

The relationship between the Chinese grocers and the black members of the local community grew over the years. Not only did the Chinese run businesses in black neighborhoods, but also lived there. It could be argued that these stores were successful largely because they provided an alternative for black consumers – they no longer had to go to white stores (if they even could) only to be disparaged and disrespected. Additionally, some Chinese men married black women, and were integrated into the black community in a way they were not with whites. However, once these immigrants decided to make Mississippi their long-term home, they were no longer satisfied with their racial in-betweenness, and demanded more (especially access to quality, white education).

Students of the only all-Chinese school in Bolivar County, Mississippi, 1938. Courtesy Mississippi Department of Archives and History (photo taken from http://mshistorynow.mdah.state.ms.us/articles/86/mississippi-chinese-an-ethnic-people-in-a-biracial-society)

Students of the only all-Chinese school in Bolivar County, Mississippi, 1938. Courtesy Mississippi Department of Archives and History (photo taken from http://mshistorynow.mdah.state.ms.us/articles/86/mississippi-chinese-an-ethnic-people-in-a-biracial-society)

By law, Chinese people were considered a “colored race,” and were legally excluded from attending schools that were meant for only white people. Chinese parents refused to accept this, and had some financial means for leverage. Vivian Wu Wong explains that the white community was probably not as concerned about admitting Chinese children to the schools as they were about admitting black children, and since there were some Chinese/black interracial children, whites decided to emphasize the importance of Chinese racial purity. Thus began Chinese community’s practice of socially distancing itself from black people. Vivian Wu Wong argues, “To respond to this fear which they saw as the main obstacle in their struggle for quality education for their children, leaders in the Chinese community made a choice. Rather than challenge racism, they distanced themselves from the black community.” They believed that as soon as they could prove their separateness from black people, whites would be willing to accept them and invite them into their superior educational institutions.

Following this sad and tragic rejection of the black community, the image of the Chinese in Mississippi slowly changed. In the 1940s, new laws were passed to allow Chinese children to attend white schools (keep in mind that the Brown v. Board of Education ruling didn’t come until 1954). By “accepting” Chinese people into their communities and institutions (“accepting” seems to be a very generous word…), whites could justify continued exclusion of black people, and use their supposed biological or cultural deficiencies to explain away their poverty. Sound familiar?

To be clear, I’m not criticizing early Chinese immigrants for wanting more for their children. In fact, I’m inspired by the ways in which they were able to carve an identity beyond “coolies” in an era that was deeply rooted in systemic racism of all “colored” folk. However, I think it’s important, so important, to acknowledge the ways in which whites with social, cultural, and actual capital created a conflict between Chinese and black communities from the very beginning in order to further the notion and practice that black lives don’t matter. Depressingly, many of these tensions continue to exist between our communities.

Korean-Americans are also often pitted against our black brothers and sisters to further prove some inaccurate cultural deficiency of blackness. But how can we as Korean-Americans, as Asian-Americans, try to understand that we are also responsible for the oppression of Others? How can we concede to the logic of, “look, we made it, why can’t you?” when we do not personally understand the long-lasting impact of slavery, or know what it feels like to be policed as a teen, or have to acutely comprehend that society would rather jail us than educate us? How can we utilize our identities and privileges to not only find our power, but also the power of other people of color? Perhaps, this is what I need to do to be a good Korean-American: to locate my identities, powers, and privileges, and to strategically use them in service of collective empowerment. I don’t exactly know what this means, yet. As of now, I only have my feelings and food. But I’m working on it.

And now, a recipe for salt & pepper shrimp, a relatively classic Cantonese dish:

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Salt and Pepper Shrimp Recipe
Recipe taken from The Woks of Life
Prep time: 30 minutes
Cook time: 15 minutes

Ingredients

For the salt and pepper mixture:
2 parts whole peppercorns
1 part sea salt

For the rest of the dish:
1 pound large shrimp, shells on and deveined (with or without heads)
3 tablespoons potato starch or cornstarch
1/3 cup oil for shallow frying
salt and pepper mixture, to taste
6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 long hot green or red pepper, thinly sliced
1 scallion, chopped

Instructions

To make the salt and pepper mixture:

  1. In a small pot over medium low heat, dry roast the whole peppercorns of your choice for 15 minutes, until very fragrant. Take care not to burn them, adjusting the heat as needed. Cool completely and use a spice grinder or mortar and pestle to grind the peppercorns down to a powder.
  2. In the same pot over medium heat, dry roast the salt until it turns slightly yellow in color. Let it cool and combine it with the ground pepper. You now have your own authentic salt and pepper powder, which you can use in whatever “salt and pepper” dish you like. The rest of the recipe is really easy.

To prepare the dish:

  1. Rinse the shrimp and pat them thoroughly dry with a paper towel. Dredge them in potato starch or cornstarch––whatever you’re using.
  2. Heat the oil in a small cast iron skillet to 375 degrees. Quickly lay the shrimp in the oil with about an inch of space in between each shrimp, and fry the shrimp in batches, cooking each side for 30 seconds. Set aside on a paper towel-lined plate, and sprinkle with salt and pepper powder to taste.
  3. In the wok, heat 2 tablespoons of oil over medium heat. Fry the garlic until just golden brown (careful not to burn it!), and set aside to drain on a paper towel lined plate.
  4. Remove any excess oil from the wok, so there’s only a tablespoon or so left (you don’t want to use too much oil at this stage, as this is a “dry” dish). Add the peppers to the wok. Turn off the heat, and add the garlic back to the wok, stir-frying everything together for a minute. Add the shrimp to the wok, and gently toss everything for 10 seconds, sprinkling over a bit more of your salt and pepper mixture. Serve!

Coming up…Meal Planning 101: On Cooking with Limited Time and Energy

Dinner, Lunch, Recipe

On Value and Self-Worth, and a Porchetta Recipe

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As you all know, I’ve been “working on myself” a lot, this year. What this means, tangibly, is that I’ve been trying to identify the sources of my self-deprecating/loathing tendencies. For example, I mentioned in a previous blog post on cooking for one, I have historically never cooked just for myself essentially because I don’t believe I’m worth the trouble or that I deserve my own love. Therapy has helped me to both be a little kinder to myself, and to hold myself accountable for some of my own unhappiness. But, I still have lots of work to do. My self-reflective question for the fall is this: who determines my value and worth, and why?

I work hard. I do lots of things for people I love. And I do this partially because I personally want to excel at what I do, and I desperately want to be a good and kind person. But, let’s be real. I also need lots and lots of external validation in order to feel fulfilled – without it, I slide down that slip-and-slide of self-doubt and confusion. I hate this about myself. I have incredible admiration for people who seemingly don’t rely on validation from others. My husband is really high achieving, super smart, and is good at tons of stuff. But unlike me, his strength appears to come from within, not from other people. How does that even work? How do I get that? Can I buy it? Please?

It's entirely possible that my soul is nourished only by external validation because my life as a child was consumed by piano, flute, singing, and dance competitions. Or maybe not.

It’s entirely possible that my soul is nourished only by external validation because my life as a child was consumed by piano, flute, singing, and dance competitions. Yikes.

In any case, I’m working on it. In fact, I have experienced one major improvement in the last 6 months: I am actually sometimes capable of being proud of myself. Sometimes. At this time last year, even if I had exceeded a fundraising goal for work, I became unnecessarily angry at myself for not exceeding the goal by even more. But now that I have the ability to feel proud, I’ve noticed that I still need other people to be proud of me, too. Annoying. I know. So I’m trying going to try a new thing where I allow myself to feel happy about achievements, but won’t share it with others until it feels real to me.  Wish me luck? (read: please tell me I’m doing a good job at not relying on others to validate my life.)

How does this relate to food and cooking? You know by now that I show my love for people by cooking for them. I need them to know, very concretely, that I care about them. I think this is quite nice. But, I have also found that I attribute my value as a friend, as a wife, as a daughter-in-law, as a human, to what concrete things I can offer, and whether those things are of high-quality. I’m afraid if I offer a bad meal that I’m actually very accurately depicting my poor value as a person. Dramatic? Yes. Unnecessary? Yes. Easy to change? No.

But change can come in itty bitty baby steps. About ten days ago, I made a pretty fucking inedible meal. I had a long day at work, had several other meetings/events to attend, and got home late. Feeling uninspired and tired, I refused to look for recipes and ended up lightly fried some chicken breasts, throwing in some white wine and broth, and braising it for about thirty minutes. I ended up putting some lemons in there, too. Mistake. The chicken ended up being incredibly bitter, like the rind of a lemon. And…I laughed. I laughed! I didn’t get angry, or lock myself in the bedroom to berate myself. Progress!

All this to say: I have a lot of work to do, and I’m excited that I can use cooking and eating to help me measure my improvement. Yea, yea, yea…maybe I should stop trying to quantify and measure everything, but that’s a goal for another season/year.

And now, here’s a recipe for a considerably more edible porchetta.

Porchetta, slow roasted for 5 hours

Porchetta Recipe
Recipe taken from I am a food blog
Serves 8-10
Prep time: 30 minutes
Cooking time: 5 hours

INGREDIENTS

Salt Rub
1 tablespoon of kosher salt
2 teaspoons of toasted fresh rosemary, chopped
2 teaspoons of toasted fennel seed, crushed
2 teaspoons of chili flakes
2 teaspoons of freshly ground black pepper
Zest of 1 lemon

Herb Rub
2 tablespoons of roughly chopped flat leaf parsley
2 tablespoons of fresh rosemary

Porchetta
12 inch slab of skin-on pork belly, skin lightly scored
Pork tenderloin, around 2-3 inches in diameter, 12 inches in length

Oil
String

INSTRUCTIONS

Combine the ingredients for the salt rub in a small bowl. Lightly sprinkle the inside of the pork belly with half of the salt rub. Sprinkle the herb rub on top and place the tenderloin in the center of the belly. Tightly roll up the belly around the tenderloin and tie together with kitchen twine. Rub the skin generously with oil and the rest with the salt rub. Place your porchetta in a dish, cover and place in the fridge for at least 12 hours.

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Heat the oven to 275F. Place the porchetta on a rack in a deep roasting pan. Lots of fat will be rendered out of the porchetta, so make sure your roasting pan is deep enough. Roast on the center rack of the oven for 4 hours. Use a meat thermometer to check that the internal termperature is 160F. Blast the heat up to 450 and continue to roast for 35 minutes, keeping an eye on the skin. You want the crackling golden brown and crispy, not burnt.

Remove from the oven, let it rest for 15-20 minutes, slice and enjoy!

Porchetta, ready to be eaten

Salsa Verde Recipe

INGREDIENTS
1 bunch of parsley
1 cup of olive oil
2 teaspoons of toasted fennel seeds, ground
2 teaspoons of toasted coriander, ground
2 teaspoons of chili flakes
salt (to taste)
2 cloves of garlic
Zest of 1 lemon
Juice from 2 lemons

INSTRUCTIONS

Puree all salsa verde ingredients until smooth. Put on top of sliced porchetta, and enjoy! The porchetta can also be sliced for sandwiches and topped with the sauce. Delish!

Coming Up…Our States, Our People, Our Food: Chinese Immigration to Mississippi and a Recipe for Salt and Pepper Shrimp

Appetizer, Dessert, Dinner, Meal Planning 101, Recipe

Meal Planning 101: On Creating a Menu for Dinner Guests, Plus Recipes Abound!

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Disclaimer: I am back to my verbose ways, and this entry is long. My promises mean nothing, but I’m pretty sure the next post will be short. Bear with me!

Psst. Want to know a secret? I’m an effusive person.

Gasp! It’s probably painfully obvious that I lack restraint when demonstrating and articulating my love for people (and food and TV). Why? Enter the Myers-Briggs Personality Test. Though I don’t fully buy into it, I’ve found the test and its analysis helpful in understanding what motivates me. And, true to obsessive form, I’ve taken the Myers –Briggs Personality Test at least 10 times in my life, all with the same result. I am solidly an ENFJ. According to 16personalities.com:

“ENFJs are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world. With a natural confidence that begets influence, ENFJs take a great deal of pride and joy in guiding others to work together to improve themselves and their community.”

There’s the good. Here’s the rub:

“While ENFJs enjoy lending this helping hand, other personality types may simply not have the energy or drive to keep up with it – creating further strain, people with the ENFJ personality type can become offended if their efforts aren’t reciprocated when the opportunity arises. Ultimately, ENFJs’ give and take can become stifling to types who are more interested in the moment than the future, or who simply have Identities that rest firmly on the Assertive side, making them content with who they are and uninterested in the sort of self-improvement and goal-setting that ENFJs hold so dear.”

Stifling. I’m stifling! Oh god. Oh yikes.

So, in the last year I’ve been trying to redirect my somewhat manic desire to demonstrate (and receive) love in my ideal form* towards something more palatable and enjoyable for all parties. I do this by cooking for people.

*ideal form: I hold your face in my hands, you hold my face in your hands, we look deep into each other’s eyes and talk about the ins and outs of everything we hold dear until our souls are exhausted by satiation.

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This is generally what it looks like when I love someone.

Though I’m still a bit intense whilst coming up with a menu for dinner guests, at least my friends won’t feel suffocated from my effort – they’ll just eat something that is hopefully tasty and comforting. For some reason, I kind of liken this situation to the phrase, “A tired dog is a happy dog.” You know, take your dog on a goddamn run so s/he won’t eat your couch. It’s as if I need to use up all my energy preparing something in order to be a less hyperactive and demanding person.

Before I expose too much of my nuttiness, here are the things I consider when coming up with a dinner menu for guests:

  1. How many people am I serving?
    This matters. While I may do something more complex and intricate for one guest, it may not be feasible or practical to do that on a larger scale for 5+ friends. When serving more than four total people, I will likely do something that involves fewer steps or one pot, like seared skirt steak, bibim guksu, braised pork ribs and cabbage, crab fried rice, or a risotto. On the other side of this, sometimes a bigger audience provides the best opportunity to try something more labor intensive that would be “wasted” on just me and my husband. For instance, we might want to one day host a Homemade Porchetta + Ciabatta + Beer party, and that would definitely work better for a larger group of guests.
  2. Do any of my guests have dietary restrictions?
    I always ask my dinner guests if they have any dietary restrictions or major dislikes. There is nothing more disappointing than watching loved ones try to eat something they hate, especially if it’s something I’ve made. If I have several guests, and only one of them is vegetarian or vegan, I will usually make a “family style” meal so that everyone has something to eat, and the vegetarian/vegan doesn’t have to be singled out. This serves as a nice parameter, because some dishes are better than others served in this fashion.
  3. What is my budget?
    For me, it’s important to determine the budget for dinner with guests so that I’m keeping track of all expenses. I never want to tip way over my usual spending, so this will often help me to figure out items for a delicious meal that won’t rob my wallet. For more on organizing around a budget, click here.
  4. What is the weather/temperature like?
    I think about this not because I don’t think one should eat stews in summer or salads in winter, but because I don’t want my guests to be uncomfortably hot or cold while they’re eating. If it’s hot in the apartment (either beacuse it’s a balmy 98 degrees outside, or it’s cold, but the heater is on a rampage), I’ll likely do something that doesn’t require much oven/stove use. Or, I’ll make something that can be roasted/cooked in advance, so the apartment doesn’t feel like an aroma sauna. If it’s cold in the apartment, I’ll make the warmest darn stew of all time. In mild and dry weather, anything is game.
  5. How much time do I have to prepare the meal?
    If given the choice, I would want to spend loads and loads of time preparing a meal for friends. But, people often come over on weekdays, which means that I have a short window between getting home from work and dinnertime to get shit ready. Of course, if I’m being particularly clever, I can prep some elements the night before, but I’m often not very smart. Even though this can seem like a bummer, time serves as helpful constraint. What dishes can I make in 1-2 hours that won’t exhaust me (who wants to dine with a grumpy and tired Yejin? NO ONE) but will still be tasty and well rounded? For last night’s guest, I made an appetizer, entree, side dish, and dessert in the span of 2 hours.
  6. Is there one thing in particular I want my guests to try?
    Based on all these other questions, which generally gives me a sense of what NOT to prepare, I will start planning my meal by selecting one element/dish I know I want to feed my guest. This is extremely helpful, and makes the process less stressful or overwhelming. Based on that one thing, you can then form the rest of your menu with complementary (or contradictory) items. Recently, I made Hainanese Chicken and Rice, and it was the best thing I had made all month. So, I wanted to share the joy with a friend who came over for dinner on Tuesday. Since the poulet served as an entrée, I started to think of other elements that would complement the light but earthy flavor of the dish. I thought it would be nice to start the meal with a simple and delicious kimchi pancake appetizer, since there is very little tang in the chicken. To accompany the entrée, I wanted a flavorful vegetable, but one that wouldn’t drown out the subtle taste and aromas of the entree. So I chose roasted brussel sprouts and shallots topped with a touch of fish sauce vinaigrette. Since the appetizer and main dish are both quite light, I wanted to end the evening with a deeply flavored and rich dessert. Enter Nigella Lawson’s dense chocolate loaf cake with bourbon and coffee, topped with homemade whipped cream and raspberries.

And, because I thought it’d be nice (and maybe a bit stifling and overwhelming), here are recipes for Tuesday’s meal:

  • Kimchi pancake
  • Hainanese Chicken and Rice
  • Roasted Brussel Sprouts and Shallots with Fish Sauce Vinaigrette
  • Nigella Lawson’s Chocolate Loaf Cake with Bourbon and Coffee

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Kimchi Pancake Recipe
Recipe modified from Maangchi.com
Servings: 2-3
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cooking Time: 10 minutes

Ingredients

1 cup of chopped kimchi
2 tablespoons of kimchi juice
3 chopped scallions
½ teaspoon of salt
½ teaspoon of sugar
½ cup of flour
¼ cup of water

Instructions

  1. Place kimchi, kimchi juice, scallions, salt, sugar, flour, and water into a medium sized bowl. Mix well with a spoon.
  2. Heat up a 12 inch non-stick pan over medium high heat and drizzle about two tablespoons of oil (canola or grapeseed is fine).
  3. Place the mixture of kimchi pancake batter on the pan and spread it thinly and evenly with a spoon.
  4. Cook it for 1 ½ minutes until the bottom becomes golden brown and crispy
  5. Turn it over with a spatula or flip it. Lower the heat to medium and cook for another 1 ½ minutes.
  6. Turn it over one more time and cook for 30 seconds before transferring it to a serving plate.

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Hainanese Chicken and Rice
Recipe taken from The Woks of Life
Servings: 4-5
Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 1 hour

Chicken Ingredients

1 whole fresh chicken, about 3-3 ½ pounds
1 tablespoon of salt
12-14 cups of water
4-5 slices of ginger
2 whole scallions
Ice 

Chicken Instructions

  1. Wash the chicken clean and remember to set aside the piece of chicken fat at the back cavity for the rice. Transfer the chicken to a plate and pat dry with a paper towel. Lightly rub the chicken with the salt. This will give the chicken skin a nice sheen. Set it aside.
  2. Bring the water, along with the ginger and scallions, to a boil in a large stockpot. Before adding the chicken to the pot, rinse the chicken under running water to wash away the salt. Carefully lower the chicken into the boiling water, positioning the chicken breast-side up. Now is a good time to adjust the water level so the chicken breast just pokes above the water (so you aren’t left with dry white meat).
  3. Once the water boils, carefully lift the chicken out of the water to pour out the colder water that is trapped in the cavity. Carefully lower the chicken back into the pot. Bring the water to boil again, and cover the lid. Turn off the heat, and leave the pot, covered, on the stove for 45-50 minutes (set a timer). To check if the chicken is done, stick a toothpick into the thickest part of the drumstick; if the juices run clear, it’s cooked through.
  4. When the 45-minute timer (for the chicken) is almost up, prepare a large ice bath. Once the chicken is cooked, carefully lift the chicken out of the pot, drain the water from the cavity and lower it into the ice bath. Take care not to break the skin. After 15 minutes in the ice bath, the chicken should be cooled, drain completely and cover with clear plastic until ready to cut and serve. The ice bath stops the cooking process, locks in the juices, and gives the chicken skin better texture.

Rice Ingredients

Chicken fat, taken from the back cavity of the chicken
4 cloves of garlic, minced
3 cups of white rice, preferably jasmine, washed and drained
Chicken stock, from cooking the chicken
2 teaspoons of salt

Rice Instructions

  1. While the chicken is cooling, make the rice. Heat a wok over medium heat. Add the chicken fat and render for about a minute. Stir in the minced garlic and fry briefly, making sure it doesn’t burn.
  2. Add the uncooked rice. Stir continuously for about two minutes.
  3. Turn off the heat. Scoop the rice into your rice cooker and add the appropriate amount of chicken stock (instead of the usual water. This amount may vary depending on your rice cooker) and salt. Close the lid and press START.
  4. If you don’t have a rice cooker, you can follow these steps. When you wash your rice, let it soak for an additional 20 minutes. Then drain the rice and follow the same steps above, but instead of transferring the rice mixture to your rice cooker, transfer it to a medium/large pot. Add 3 cups of chicken stock and the salt, giving it a quick stir. Cover the pot and bring to a boil. Once it boils,immediately turn down the heat to the lowest setting. Let the rice simmer and cook (covered) for 10-15 minutes until the rice is done. It’s not quite as foolproof as the rice cooker, but you should get a very similar result. Just be sure to keep an eye on it; burnt rice is no fun.

Sweet Dark Soy Sauce Ingredients

1/3 cup of water
3 tablespoons of rock sugar
1/3 cup of dark soy sauce

Sweet Dark Soy Sauce Instructions

Heat the water and sugar in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir constantly until the sugar dissolves and the liquid thickens into a simple syrup. Add the dark soy sauce, stirring to combine. Transfer to a sauce dish.

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Brussel Sprouts Oven Roasted And Fish Sauced
Recipe taken from iamafoodblog.com
Servings: 2-4 as a side
Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 45 minutes

Ingredients

1 clove of garlic, minced|
1 bird’s eye chili
1 tablespoon of sugar
Juice of ¼ a lime
½ cup of water
1 tablespoon of fish sauce
1 pound of Brussel sprouts
2 shallots, peeled and quartered
2 tablespoons of oil
Salt and pepper

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven to 400°F.
  2. Crush the garlic, chili and sugar together in a mortar. Transfer to liquid measuring cup and dissolve the sugar, garlic and chili mixture with the water. Add the lime juice then fish sauce. Set aside.
  3. Trim the ends of the sprouts and remove any outer leaves that are loose or discoloured. Cut sprouts in half. Toss the cut sprouts and quartered shallots with oil and salt and pepper. Place in an oven-proof dish and roast, stirring every so often, until deeply browned, 35-40 minutes.
  4. Remove from the oven, toss with the fish sauce vinaigrette and enjoy immediately.

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Nigella Lawson’s Dense Chocolate Loaf Cake

Recipe taken from Alexandra’s Kitchen
Source: Nigella Lawson’s How to Be a Domestic Goddess
Servings: 2 loaves
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cooking Time: 45 minutes

Ingredients

1 cup soft unsalted butter
1 2/3 cup (316 g | 11 1/8 oz) dark brown sugar
1 1/3 cup (170 g) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon sea salt, such as Maldon or Fleur de sel (or use 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt)
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
4 ounces best bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, melted (I did this in the microwave at 30 second intervals, but don’t walk away — it will burn quickly)
2 tablespoons brandy or bourbon
1 cup freshly brewed coffee

Instructions

  1. Heat the oven to 375°F. Line a 9×5-inch loaf pan with parchment paper — just shove a whole sheet in there (versus cutting to make it fit — this way no batter will seep through the cracks). Also, prepare a smaller loaf pan (or some other vessel such as a muffin tin) in a similar manner — I butter the smaller loaf pan well, and I never have issues getting the cake out.
  2. Cream the butter and sugar, either with a wooden spoon or with an electric hand-held mixer.
  3. Meanwhile, whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Set aside.
  4. Add the eggs and vanilla to the butter-sugar mixture and beat until combined.
  5. Next, fold in the melted and now slightly cooled chocolate, taking care to blend well but being careful not to overbeat. You want the ingredients combined: You don’t want a light, airy mass. Add the brandy and mix to combine.
  6. Next, gently add the flour mixture alternately spoon by spoon with the coffee until you have a smooth and fairly liquid batter.
  7. Pour into the lined loaf pan, being sure the batter does not come closer than 1 inch from the rim of the cake pan or it risks overflowing. Pour the excess into the smaller prepared pan. Bake 30 minutes. Turn the oven down to 325 degrees and continue to cook for another 15 minutes. (I remove the smaller pan after the first 30 minutes.) The cake will still be a bit squidgy inside, so an inserted cake tester or skewer won’t come out completely clean. Place the loaf pan on a rack, and leave to get completely cold before turning it out. (Leave it for a whole day if you can resist.) Don’t worry if it sinks in the middle — it will do so because it’s such a dense and damp cake.

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Coming Up…Introducing a New Series Honoring the Diverse Communities and Histories of the U.S. 

Dinner, Recipe

Cooking for One: A Bummer, or an Act of Self-Love? Plus, a Recipe for Fish in a Bag

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Even though I’m an anxious person, cooking for a crowd is one of my most favorite things to do. Sharing a meal with others has always been a significant pleasure in my life, and to be the person to prepare that meal, well, that’s just the goddamn best thing ever. Perhaps, this makes me feel a little closer to my mother, who played a similar(ly gendered) role in our family. Maybe it satiates my ever-present need to be nurturing (admittedly, this is likely a problematic need). Maybe it offers an easy way to receive external validation (ugh, I’m working on that). Whatever the reason, there’s nothing quite like loving my friends and family by cooking for and feeding them.

Cooking for one? Now, there’s a fucking bummer.

A couple of months ago, I was recounting my incredibly competitive and self-deprecating nature to my therapist. These go-to behaviors have served as the pinnacle of my essence for years, where concepts like “productivity” and “proactivity” and “achievement” were the only goals that mattered. I would frequently go through periods of loathing myself for not performing at my highest potential (it’s a mystery how I make that assessment of my potential – it is always suspiciously juuuuuust out of reach), which would motivate me to do better. To be better. For a long time, I believed that this rather extreme strategy of self-betterment was an act of tough love. But, really, it’s not. It makes me internalize and project anger, and provides me with a roundabout way of letting myself off the hook. If I’m my own worst critic, then I can never be hurt or impacted/bettered by the criticisms of others. This is stagnating and isolating.

In any case, this way-of-being has impacted my ability to experience pleasure in activities and hobbies. Though it seems rather obvious that I enjoy cooking, I only take pleasure in it when other people are involved. My therapist asked me whether I ever cook for myself, not just out of necessity, but for the sake of pleasure. I responded by telling him the story of how last time my husband was on tour, I ordered a large, everything pizza, and consumed the whole thing in 30 minutes. Two nights in a row. So,  no. I have never really cooked for the audience of me, and I have never been able to enjoy the fruits of my labor without someone to love beside me.

It makes sense that I am less motivated to cook when I feel a little lonely. But, in my estimation, the biggest problem is that I feel like I don’t deserve my own time and energy. If cooking is an act of love (for me, it most definitely is), then to cook for myself is to love myself. And, blech, who wants to do that? It feels so uncomfortable.

So, in an act of defiance against my own norms, and despite my instinct to shotgun an 18-inch pizza every night of the week, I’m cooking for myself while my husband is gone. Sure, none of the meals so far have reached my self-imposed standards. Obviously, my brain cannot properly adjust to cooking food in smaller quantities, so I have been making way too much of each meal, even factoring in leftovers for lunch. I have a sneaky suspicion that I’m a grandmother, at heart, and therefore feel the need to make too much food in order to feed impromptu guests/loved ones, just in case. Maybe my acute vertigo has left me a little lazy or hazy.

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For example, this bibimguksu w/ chopped ddak bulgogi and a picked egg was not as tangy and delicious as it could have been. It was pretty great, but not amazing.

I could go on and on about everything that has gone wrong, so far. But, I won’t.  I’ll focus on the fact that this has been a strangely and slowly empowering process. I will probably always be hard on myself, but for the first time in my cooking tenure, I’m listening for and to my own joy, my own criticisms.

I cooked and ate a dish new to my repertoire, the other day: Fish in a Bag, with lemon, fennel, olives and white wine sauce. It was nice in appearance, smelled great, tasted good, and taught me about a technique that I hadn’t yet utilized. I decided that I deserved a plate that was pretty, so I worked on the presentation, a little. And, I critiqued it. Perhaps, I was a little hard on myself. I could have seasoned the fish a little more. I probably should have pre-cooked the potatoes, a little less. I accidentally forgot to buy pitted olives, so that element of the dish was annoying to eat. But, I formed my own opinions, and listened to them. To me, this is a small act of self-love, because I often won’t listen to my own thoughts when I am in the presence of brilliant and wonderful people. And, I often am surrounded by brilliant and wonderful people.

In any case, I’m pleased. Small wins are always big. And Audre Lorde reminds me why self-care is so important.

“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” – Audre Lorde

Finally, here is Jamie Oliver’s recipe for Fish in a Bag.

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Fish in a bag with lemon, fennel, olives, and white wine sauce 
Recipe from Jamie Oliver (slightly modified)
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cooking Time: 20-25 minutes
Servings: 1

Ingredients

Instructions 

  1. Bring a small pot of salted water to a boil. While that’s getting ready, create a “bag” out of foil. To do this, take a large piece of aluminum foil (about 14×18 inches), and fold it half. Tightly fold the two sides adjacent to the original folded edge, and leave one side open. Jamie Oliver recommends you brush the edges with egg before you fold them in, to help with sealing, but I found that I didn’t need to do that.
  2. Drop the potatoes into the boiling water and cook for 5 minutes. While they are boiling, place the prepared fennel, lemon, and cherry tomatoes into a bowl. Season with salt and pepper to your liking, add a drizzle of olive oil, and mix gently but thoroughly. Separately, season the halibut fillet to your liking.
  3. Once the potatoes are done, drain them, and add them to the bowl of mixed vegetables. Once everything is mixed, carefully place the contents into the foil bag, place the fillet on top, and sprinkle with some fennel fronds.  Add a splash of white wine, and seal the remaining edge.
  4. In an oven preheated at 400ºF, place the foil bag onto a baking tray and cook for 20-25 minutes, depending on the thickness of your fillet. Once cooked, place the bag on a serving plate and gently pierce to release the steam. Serve to self on a plate.

Coming Up
The Problematization of Authenticity Series: Musings on White Chefs and “Ethnic” Restaurants

Dinner, Lunch, Recipe

On Balance, and a Bibim Guksu Recipe

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I’m not particularly gifted and finding balance, in my life. Words that might better describe me: obsessive, sunny, self-deprecating, product-oriented, compulsive, nurturing, neurotic, controlling. Lots of things, but definitely not balanced. Not yet.
Also, not terribly photogenic

Also, not terribly photogenic

I’m on the hunt for a hobby, and am fully dreading this opportunity/task. When my only frame of reference for hobbies includes solo piano competitions, and other embarrassing activities of the like, it’s hard for me to approach a non-essential activity without being annoyingly methodical, aggressive, and ambitious, particularly since I have the great dishonor of conflating enjoyment with being good at something. Because of the level of unnecessary intensity I bring to the table, I end up talking myself out of doing anything. For example: when considering taking yoga classes, I decided that I should first start with bartered private yoga instructional sessions, so I could perform with the right form before being in a group setting. When I couldn’t find someone with whom to barter, and because I couldn’t even consider the notion of being completely unprepared for it, I didn’t do any yoga. Another example: I had considered returning to the piano, and got a keyboard for my birthday several years ago. Having picked up all my music from NJ, I started planning how often and how long to practice, made a schedule of when to learn and memorize each section, blahblahblah. Categorically not fun. A bit not good. But it’s the only way I know how to approach anything.

By way of cooking and eating, I think I’m slowly starting to learn to enjoy not only the (hopefully delicious) product, but also the process. Because the enjoyment (of eating) so immediately follows the work and process, perhaps I will begin to conflate the two pieces, and learn to approach everything else with the ultimate goal of enjoyment (instead of mastery, which will always be unattainable, anyway). All this to say, I was totally unbalanced about this week’s meals. Since I was a little lazy and unproductive the week prior, I felt the need to compensate with a rather intensive menu of meals. Plus, I had the added (self-inflicted) pressure of wanting to delight in spring/summer foods and salads. Even with a little bit of unnecessary stress, I experienced a great deal of joy while preparing the week’s menu. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to approach everything in my life with a bit of balance, joy, and ambition, and eat good food all the while.

And now, a recipe. This dish was rocking and rolling, and is pretty perfect for any warm to sweltering day.

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Bibim Guksu Recipe

Serves 6
Preparation Time: 30 minutes
Cooking Time: 10 minutes

Ingredients

10 oz. soba or lo mein noodles (soba is better, but I couldn’t find any in the local grocery store)
1/4 head of red cabbage, thinly sliced
2 large carrots, julienned
1 large cucumber, julienned
1/2 of a tart apple, julienned
1/2  cup of kimchi, diced

For the sauce:

3 tbsp gochujang (Korean hot pepper paste) Note: each brand carries a different weight of spiciness. If you are sensitive to spiciness, start with 2 tbsp, taste after everything else has been mixed together, and slowly add more if you so desire
1 1/2 tbsp white vinegar
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 1/2 tbsp honey
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 1/2 tbsp sesame oil
1 tbsp sesame seeds, lightly toasted (optional)

See marinated flank steak recipe below.

Method

  1. Boil noodles as instructed. Drain, and rinse the noodles under cold water to stop the cooking. Shake the water off, put noodles in a large mixing bowl, and add a teeny bit of vegetable oil and mix to make sure they don’t stick together.
  2. Put your prepared vegetables into the bowl, along with the sauce. Using a piece of plastic wrap to protect your and from the spicy sauce, thoroughly mix the noodles, vegetables, and sauce together. Using tongs or utensils might break the noodles, so best to use your hands. 
  3. Place your mixed noodles into a bowl, and top with slices of marinated skirt steak (recipe below).

Korean Marinated Flank Steak Recipe

Preparation Time: 10 minutes, plus up to a 12 hours of marinating
Cooking Time: 10 minutes, plus 10 minutes of resting the meat

Ingredients
1 1/2 – 2 lbs of flank steak, 1/2 an inch thick
1/4 cup of soy sauce
1 tbsp of ginger, finely minced
2 cloves of garlic, finely minced
4 scallions, thinly sliced
1 tbsp of sugar
1 tsp of ground pepper
1/2 a apple, thinly shredded
1 tbsp sesame oil

Method

  1. In a large bowl, mix the soy sauce, ginger, garlic, scallions, sugar, pepper, apple, and sesame oil.
  2. Carefully pour the marinade into a large freezer bag, along with the piece of flank steak. Close the bag, making sure there is no air trapped. Put the bag into the refrigerator for up to 12 hours.
  3. An hour before you plan to cook the steak, take the bag out of the fridge. Let it come closer to room temperature.
  4. Heat a cast iron skillet at a high heat until smoke starts to come off of the pan. Lower the heat to a medium-high flame, and add the steak. After four minutes, flip it over, and let it cook for another 3 minutes.
  5. Take the steak off the pan and put onto a cutting board. Let it sit, uncovered, for about 10 minutes so that the juices can redistribute. The cooking time is for a medium rare steak. After 10 minutes, slice to your desired thickness. Place ontop of bibim guksu!
Dinner, Recipe

On Inherited Memory, and a Recipe for Kimchi Spam Fried Rice

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Our tastes are often molded by memory. In particular, we find ourselves fond of foods that make us nostalgic, dishes that take us back to a cherished moment, tastes that reestablish a feeling or experience, and meals that help us to feel like we’ve returned to ourselves and remember who we are. This makes sense to me. More puzzling than the fact that memory can impact our tastes buds in a powerful way is the possibility that these buds can even be affected by memories that are not our own.

spam-family-of-products

Spam. God, what the fuck is spam, and why am I so keen on eating it? I’m fairly certain that if someone introduced Spam to me as an adult, I would snobbishly spit out the salty and gelatinous mess and give that someone a damn dirty stare. But it was introduced to me by my parents as a treat to cherish. For them, Spam signified a moment in Korean history that gave them a deep feeling of ambivalence: the Korean War. The weird canned good was brought over to the peninsula by American soldiers and became a coveted luxury (yes, a luxury) in the dark and desperate years immediately following the war. At a time when meat was difficult to come by, it denoted prosperity and nutrition, luxury and finesse. It became a sign of America, an image of prosperity and processed privilege, an imagining of an unreal future where a canned meat equaled progress. And, of course, symbols of everything America were and continue to be met with deeply uncertain sentiments. America as savior. America as imperialists. America as progress. America as excess. America, the threat to a strong (and masculinist) Korean national identity. Whether or not Spam is delicious is obviously arguable, and also a bit irrelevant, to me. What is inarguable is the fact that Spam holds a lot of power over our memories (and therefore, our taste buds) because of the moment of history it represents. This canned treat is still categorically popular in S. Korea. Here’s an interesting tidbit: S. Korea is the second largest consumer of Spam in the world, eating roughly half as much as the U.S., which has six times as many residents. My people sure love their salty pork products.

Anywho, back to the original point. I was not born in S. Korea, and I don’t have my own memories of the war, or a remembrance of the desperation that marked its aftermath. With every gloopy bite, I don’t close my eyes and quiver with anticipation for feelings and memories to come. I don’t think about American soldiers, progress, safety, poverty, imperialism, or anything beyond “this is really fucking salty.” But I love it, anyway. I blame my grandparents and parents. They grew up with this experience. And though they didn’t say much about Korean history when pan frying this “meat”, I witnessed their strange love for Spam and thought it was  nice. And through either genetics or osmosis, I began to harbor my own strange love for the canned good.

I’m not saying that the only reason Koreans love Spam is because of the history/circumstances surrounding its introduction – I certainly know people who straight up love it. But I think it’s bizarre and lovely that I somehow absorbed my parents’ love and memory of the boxed pork. It’s perhaps a testament to my love for them that I inherited their fondness for a food that I could have hated. So, to all the naysayers who proselytize about Spam being the worst: suck it. I’ll love it for as long as I love my parents and grandparents, and you won’t take that away from me.

And now, the recipe.

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Kimchi Spam Fried Rice
Adapted from Dale Talde’s Recipe (featured on Buzzfeed)
Cooking time: 30 minutes
Prep time: 45 minutes
6 Servings

Ingredients

2 cups white jasmine rice, cooked
3 tablespoons canola oil, divided
3 eggs, beaten in a bowl until yolks and whites are combined
1 12-ounce container Spam, cut in 1/2-inch cubes
1 medium white onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup Kimchi, strained, thinly sliced, liquid reserved
1 1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 bunch scallions, sliced in 1/4-inch pieces
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon of soy sauce
1 tablespoons fish sauce (optional, but you should totally use it)

Instructions

  1. Heat 2 tablespoons canola oil in a large cast iron skillet over medium high heat (I used my handy dandy cast iron wok). Add the egg mixture to the hot skillet all at once, turn the heat down to medium, and use a flexible spatula to move the egg around the skillet constantly. Just when the egg is fully cooked (around 45 seconds), put the eggs on a plate and set aside.
  2. Return the skillet to medium-high heat, then add 1 tablespoon of canola oil and the cubed spam. Cook the spam, stirring every 30 seconds or so, until they are golden brown, about 4 minutes.
  3. Add the onion and stir for 2 minutes. Add the garlic, stirring frequently to make sure that the minced garlic doesn’t burn, about another 2 minutes.
  4. Add butter, and let it melt. Add the sesame oil, chopped kimchi, and hot pepper flakes, and cook for about 2 minutes. Make sure to stir. Add the reserved kimchi liquid (should amount to about half a cup) and stir.
  5. Add your already cooked rice, and stir until all of the rice is fully coated. Add the cooked eggs, sliced scallions, soy sauce, and fish sauce, and continue to stir.
  6. Turn off heat, serve fried rice into bowls.
  7. If you want to add fried eggs, put that shit on top! (the only reason I didn’t add a fried egg atop my kimchi spam fried rice, the other day, is because I had already consumed 3 eggs that day. Whoops.)
Dinner, Recipe

On Courage and Kimchi Ramen

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Many of us have read through the NYTimes article entitled “No. 37: Big Wedding or Small” with varying degrees of amusement, excitement, annoyance, and thoughtfulness. As a classic (and perhaps insufferable) ENFJ (one of sixteen personalities delineated by the Myers-Briggs personality test), I went on a spree of asking close friends and relatives some of the questions in the article, favoring one particular question:

If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

My answer is always the same: I would like to wake up with more courage.

I’ve never felt like a brave person. After binge-watching Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, American Horror Story, or even something like Damages, I sometimes make Nico check behind the shower curtain of the bathroom before I tinkle. Much like my insanely skiddish dog, I jump and yelp when surprised, which is all the time. Though I do have a strange streak of breaking up fights between strangers on the B44 or the subway, I generally feel like a namby-pamby. Also, I don’t think my perceived cowardice is unrelated to my obsession with over-preparedness. Apparently, I didn’t start walking until I was over two years of age. I would slowly get up, and just as slowly sit down, without taking one darn step. Basically, I didn’t start walking until I could run. Typical Yejin. I always want to know that I have the potential to do something decently before I actually do it for fear of being mediocre or crap –  to me, this is a lower form of cowardice.

In any case, it’s occurred to me that no quality or trait is a package deal. To be sure, I am unlikely to survive a zombie apocalypse; I would never make it into the Gryffindor House; I may sooner want to die than to fight, depending on the nemesis; I would categorically hate running my own tech startup company with a billionaire antagonist trying to destroy me (boy, I need to stop watching TV and movies). But here are things I do for which I should give myself some credit:

  1. I have no reservations about holding colleagues, family members, or friends accountable;
  2. As much as I make a fuss about over-preparing for success, I handle ‘failure’ pretty well, and make sure to try again, and to try smarter;
  3. I strongly believe that people deserve better, and work hard to be an integral part of making that happen (whether in work, love, or life).
  4. Even though I torment myself an unhealthy amount over making a new dish/meal, I make a new dish/meal, anyway.

Yea, yea, this is a pretty mild list. But it’s a start in taking the road less traveled (where the beaten path = practices of self deprecation). I start my new job tomorrow as Director of Development, where I’ll be a supervisor for the first time, so I need to believe that I have a little bit of courage!

At the very least, my attempt (however arduous and painful) to make new meals has resulted in something quite delicious! Here is the recipe for my very first homemade miso ramen w/ kimchi and other fixins:

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Miso and Kimchi Ramen Recipe
Cooking Time: 30 minutes
Prep Time: 45 minutes
4 Servings

Ingredients

Ramen
6 cups of chicken stock (homemade is best!)
1 cup of kimchi, coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons of red miso paste
2 teaspoons of soy sauce
1 scallion, sliced diagonally
1/2 tsp hot pepper flakes
2 bunches of baby spinach, rinsed thoroughly
12 oz of authentic Chinese noodles (these are good)
Salt, as needed

Toppings
4 soft boiled eggs, peeled, and cut in half
1/2 cup of kimchi
1 scallion, sliced diagonally
4 marinated and broiled chicken thighs, coarsely chopped (recipe below)

Instructions

  1. Bring your chicken stock to a gentle boil.
  2. Prepare your toppings. Take your soft boiled eggs and cut them in half; slice the second scallion diagonally; put 1/2 a cup of kimchi in a bowl; and cut up your recently broiled chicken thighs.
  3. Once the stock is up to a rolling boil, add the miso paste and mix thoroughly, making sure to break up the chunks. Once incorporated, add the coarsely chopped kimchi, soy sauce, scallions, and red pepper flakes.
  4. After boiling gently for 10 minutes, add baby spinach. Taste the broth and add salt, as needed.
  5. As you wait for the flavors to incorporate into the ramen broth, bring a separate pot to a boil. Make your noodles per package instructions and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking process. Set aside.
  6. Once everything is ready, put the noodles into the pot with with boiling broth and cook for an additional minute. Carefully place noodles into a bowl, then the broth. Add toppings, and enjoy!

Marinated and Broiled Chicken Thighs Recipe

Ingredients

4 chicken thighs
3 tablespoons of gochujang (Korean hot pepper paste)
3 tablespoons of soy sauce
1 tablespoon of honey
1 teaspoon of white vinegar
1/2 teaspoon of peanut oil
1/2 teaspoon of sesame oil

Instructions

  1. Mix all marinade ingredients in a bowl, and pour into a freezer bag.
  2. Pat the chicken thighs dry, and place them into bag with marinade, making sure every part is covered.
  3. Let the chicken marinade in the fridge for at least an hour.
  4. Take chicken out of the fridge and let it come to room temperature.
  5. Turn on the broiler. Take the chicken out of the bag and place onto a lined baking tray with the skin side down. Place tray into broiler for 10 minutes. Carefully take the tray out, flip over the chicken, add some additional marinade. Put the tray back into the broiler for another 10-15 minutes. Keep watch to make sure nothing is burning – every broiler is different.
Appetizer, Dinner, Problematization of Authenticity Series, Recipe

The Problematization of “Authenticity” Series: On Korean Food, Patriarchal Traditions, and a Mandu Recipe

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As you may know, I’ve been cooking a lot of Korean(ish) food in the past month, a process I’ve identified as a way to honor and remember my late grandmother. Though I’ve been cooking actively for the past seven years, I have successfully avoided making the food of my people, partially out of laziness (a lot of Korean food takes loads of time and preparation), and partially because I have been really afraid of making something “inauthentic.” With this cuisine specifically, I’ve conflated inauthenticity with half-assedness, and fear that I have only half an ass. I haven’t had time to go to H-Mart to get real ingredients. I don’t have packets of dried anchovies for broth. Tubs of hot pepper or dry soy bean paste scare me. I’m obsessed with kimchi, but wanted to wait until I had a separate fridge for this stinky and fermented treat. Plus, my experience with Korean food is so inextricably linked to my memories of my mother and my grandmother, I felt like making something in a new tradition would be dishonorable.

So, what is authentic Korean food? And, a larger and perhaps more difficult question, what would it mean to be authentically Korean? I’ve been thinking a lot about the relationship between the term/concept and tradition. As someone born in this country, I am pretty ambivalent about many aspects of Korea’s customs and conventions. How do I both remain respectful of its (rather sad) history and practices, and simultaneously reject the institutionalized patriarchy of its Neo-Confucian core? There are a lot of things I admire about my heritage (whatever that means). I like that respectfulness and honor is a priority in a person’s demeanor. I like that Koreans value hard work as much as they value intelligence or raw talent. I think there’s something rather beautiful about harboring a mentality that thinks more about collectivism than individualism. But what do I do, for example, with its long history of disenfranchising women? According to Confucian and Neo-Confucian orthodoxy, women had (and still arguably have) a primary duty of providing a male heir for her husband’s family (women were not incorporated into family trees, because men were born from magical unicorns), they were/are often mistreated and abused by her mother-in-law (for reference, please watch any and all Korean soap operas), and, if she could not bear a son, her husband could haved divorce his wife or taken a second wife. The nation even adopted and implemented its very own comfort women to serve members of the U.S. military in camp towns (called kijich’on). All this to say: the things that I admire about the culture are not totally unrelated to the things that make me cringe, rage, and cry.

In order to reconcile these feelings, I try to understand the history that led to an adoption of exclusionary and psychically violent practices. Sure, postcolonial nationalism is often wrought with dogmatism and stringent understandings of ‘manhood.’ Yes, intense poverty often informs cultural policies. At some point, the Koryo Dynasty was possibly matrilineal. I’ve done some work in investigating this context. But still, I remain ambivalent, saddened, angry, and confused.

So, to be authentically Korean, do I need to honor all these traditions, even if they dictate that I am unworthy of respect or power because I was born with a vagina, because I am not subservient, because I have both career and familial ambitions, because I am shameless and lack a demure personality? And, how far back do I need to go in order to find that ‘originary’ tradition? I am prone to thinking that this is a relatively futile etude. Or, is it possible to pick and choose what I like, and wear that mangled identity with pride and absolution?

Let’s bring this back to food. As I’ve stated, I’ve been afraid of making Korean food because I didn’t want to mess with tradition (and by tradition, I mean the way my grandmother and mother made certain dishes). But, if it’s okay to pick and choose what I like about being Korean, maybe it’s also okay for me to pick and choose how I cook the dishes of my people. No, maybe I won’t always use the proper ingredients, but that doesn’t have to stop me from making and eating something I love, from altering a recipe to fit my tastes, time, budget, and possible laziness. Somehow, my grandmother’s passing has instilled me with more courage. I know it sounds weird, but I have needed courage in order to cook Korean food without feeling shame, embarrassment, or competitiveness. And my halmuni’s love, life, and passing has given me enough energy to make this food without reservation.

Without further ado, here is a homemade mandu (Korean dumpling) recipe:

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Mandu Recipe
Recipe adapted from Maangchi (I love the recipes on this site – be sure to check it out!)
10 servings
Prep time: 1 hour and 15 minutes (includes time to make homemade mandu skins)
Cooking time: 20 minutes

Ingredients

  • 1 lb of ground pork
  • 1 lb of ground beef
  • 2 cups of chives, chopped
  • 4 fresh shiitake mushrooms, diced
  • Half an onion, finely minced
  • Half a package of extra firm tofu, drained and smooshed
  • 2 cloves of garlic, finely minced
  • 2 teaspoons of salt
  • 1 teaspoon of black pepper
  • 1 teaspoon of sugar
  • 2 tablespoons + 2 teaspoons of sesame oil
  • 2 teaspoons of soy sauce
  • Mandu skins (see below for recipe)
  • Vegetable oil, for frying

Directions

  • Place ground pork and ground beef into a big bowl. Add 1 teaspoon of salt, 1 tablespoon of sesame oil, 1 teaspoon of black pepper, mix by hand, and push onto one side of the bowl.
  • In a small bowl, mix chives with 1 tablespoon of sesame oil and mix – place this next to the meat in the large bowl.
  • Mix diced shiitake mushrooms onions into a small bowl. Add two teaspoons of soy sauce, 1 teaspoon of sugar, and 1 teaspoon of sesame oil in a small bowl. Mix by hand and put into the large bowl.
  • Place the squished half package of tofu into small bowl, add a pinch of salt and 1 teaspoon of sesame oil and mix by hand. Place tofu mixture into the large bowl.
  • Add minced garlic, and mix all ingredients by hand.
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  • Take out your mandu skins. Put some filling mixture into the center of the mandu skin. Using your fingertips, apply a little bit of cold water to one edge of the round skin – this will serve as a sealant.
  • Fold the skin in half over the filling and press edges together. Fold the edges over in order to make the ripple effect and to securely seal the dumpling. Do this with your desired number of dumplings.
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  • Put some vegetable oil on a medium heated pan (make sure you use a pan with a lid), and add the mandu. Lower the heat to a low-medium and put the lid on the pan to cook.
  • After 3 minutes, turn the mandu over. After cooking for a total of 6 minutes, carefully add 2 tablespoons of water and put the lid back on – this will ensure that the filling is fully cooked. After 2-3 minutes, take the lid off (be careful – oil might be splattering!) and cook for one more minute until the liquid is completely evaporated.
  • When mandu is golden and crispy, transfer onto a plate.

Mandu Pi Recipe
Recipe adapted from Maangchi
Makes 24-30 medium-sized wrappers (each about 4 inches in diameter)
Prep time: 45 minutes

Ingredients

  • 2 cups of all purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
  • ½ teaspoon of salt
  • 2/3 cup of water

Directions

  • In a large bowl, combine flour, salt, and water. Mix with a wooden spoon until it turns into one big lump. Knead the dough by hand for a few minutes until the dough gets a little bit softer. Put into a Ziploc bag and let it sit for 30 minutes.
  • Take the dough out of the bag and knead for 5-7 minutes, until it is smooth, dense, and elastic.
  • Place the dough on a cutting board dusted with a bit of flour and divide it into 2 equal pieces. Put half back into the Ziploc bag.
  • Cut the piece of dough into 12-15 equal sized pieces. Roll them into balls, squish them with your palm, and start rolling each piece out with a pin. The disks should be a little thinner on the outside than in the middle so that you can pinch the edges without much trouble. Do the same with the second half of the dough. Use them for your mandu

I actually ended up having a significant amount of mandu filling left after I finished making them. So, I added 1 teaspoon of Worchestershire sauce, an egg, made meatballs, and baked them at 450 F for 20 minutes. DELICIOUS.

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Next on The Problematization of “Authenticity” Series: (White) Cultural Appropriators, a Defense for “Authenticity,” and a Recipe for Shrimp and Grits.

Last thing: Our dog’s name is Mandu (because I love dumplings so much, not because I’m going to eat him). And he is the cutest thing in the world.

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