Tag Archives: Comfort Food

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.
Dinner, Recipe

On Feeling Fat, plus a Recipe for Shanghai-Style Braised Pork Belly

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I think we all experience days when we feel gross, ugly, and maybe a little bit “fat”. Here are signs that I am about to have one of those days:

  • My pants fit fine, but they somehow feel like they’re made of an unforgiving metal material that is cutting into my belly;
  • Muumuus suddenly look really fashionable, and I have 4-5 different ones queued up in my Etsy cart;
  • My belly, inner thighs, arms, and cheeks (areas that have a little extra meat) are all insanely itchy;
  • I look in the mirror, cringe, and dramatically ask, “WHY!?”;
  • I convince myself that I’m going to become a martial arts master and lose a zillion pounds, even though my brain knows all of that is ridiculous.

These feelings often have nothing to do with weight, size, or appearance. I’ve discovered that my overall feeling of self-worth (which includes appearance) is inextricably linked to productivity, and whether I see myself as intelligent.

I’m rather mean to myself, which may or may not be obvious at this point. I think my obsession with personal/professional growth, my consistent desire to be prolific and competitive, my general state of anxiety, it all stems from a deeply embedded belief that I am not naturally good at anything, not naturally smart or gifted. I’ve built this narrative that positions Yejin as someone with no raw talent, but also as someone who can overcome that misfortune through practice and hard work. Without my industrious and near-OCD behavior, I feel like I would be left with the core of my being, which is nothing more than mediocre. I constantly dare myself to do better and be better because I want to prove myself wrong. All this to say: when I am stripped of my possibly superficial layers of self-confidence, I feel unintelligent and uninspired. And ugly. I don’t bring this up so that others will say things like, “Awww…that is so untrue!” In fact, external validation does little, for me. And my whiny little pity party doesn’t need any additional guests, believe me. I mention this overly exposed and vulnerable mess of an overshare simply because I’m proud…proud that I’m working on being nicer and more understanding, proud that I’m getting better at practicing a more profound compassion for myself and for others.

If I caught one of my loved ones saying this shit to themselves, I would grab them by the ears, drag them to a mirror, and gently scream at them to see what I see: a beautiful, thoughtful and amazing human being (this is why I would be a terrible counselor, by the way). Rather than continue on this destructive and unsustainable path, I’m trying to figure out how to be kinder and less dramatic, and how to convince myself that I don’t need these additional layers of ‘accomplishments’ in order to prove that I’m worthy of my own confidence, pride and love. And, guess what helps? FOOD. PORK BELLY. Obviously.

When I’m hating on my body (read: feeling unintelligent/uninspired), what makes me feel better is not “healthy” food, but fatty stuff. It’s counterintuitive, I know. But on the occasions I’ve made myself eat nothing but raw fruits/vegetables, quinoa, tofu, tempeh, etc., I felt like I was punishing myself for something. I created an archetype of what a “successful” person would eat, and I ended up hating the food and feeling even worse about not being the kind of person who would genuinely enjoy eating exclusively healthy things (in my brain, those are the same folks who enjoy a zillion mile run at 6am).  Which is terrible, because those foods are also delicious. So, as I mentioned in my entry on cravings, I had to find a way to dissociate punishment from food and eating. My current strategy: to make myself something that really delights me, something that makes my body feel warm and cuddly and squishy and comforted…something fatty. Of course, eating fatty and delicious stuff isn’t and shouldn’t be a permanent solution to my self-inflicted woes, but it does make me happy, if only for a moment.

For a super tasty pork belly dish, check out the recipe below.

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Shanghai-Style Braised Pork Belly
Adapted from The Woks of Life
Servings: 6-8
Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 75 minutes

Ingredients

1 ½ lbs of pork belly, cut into ¾ inch pieces
3 tablespoons of canola oil
3 tablespoons of sugar
6 tablespoons of shaoxing wine (I used dry sherry)
4 tablespoons of soy sauce (original recipe calls for both light and dark soy sauce but I didn’t have any dark soy sauce on hand. It tastes yummy this way, but the sauce is lighter in color and less ‘authentic’)
4 cups of water

Directions

  1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and blanche the pork after boiling for a couple of minutes (this will get rid of some impurities and start the cooking process). Drain the pork and set aside.
  2. Put your wok over a low heat, add oil and sugar and stir for 1 minute. Add the pork, and raise the heat to medium. Cook until the pork is lightly browned, around 4 minutes.
  3. Turn the heat back down to low and add the cooking wine, soy sauce, and water. Cover and simmer for about 1 hour until the pork can be easily pierced by a fork.
  4. Once the pork is tender, there will still be a lot of extra liquid. Uncover the wok, turn up the heat, and let the liquid reduce for about 15 minutes, stirring frequently. The pork will reduce to a shiny, thick, brown sauce.
  5. Serve over rice, and EAT EVERYTHING.

I served this with rice, sauteed bok-choy with garlic sauce, and soy sauce eggs.

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Note: I recognize that I may be using the concept and feeling of “fatness” in a pejorative way, at least when it comes to analyzing myself. My intention is not to be fat-shaming, but to show the ways in which my general feeling of self-worth determines the way I feel about my body (in a society that is, in fact, fat-shaming). 

Dinner, Recipe

Mnemonic Meals and Paprika Chicken Stew Recipe

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Disclaimer: Possible trigger warning around death of a loved one. This entry is pretty personal, and maybe a wee bit sad. Feel free to run for the hills!

My memory is crap. Occasionally, a close friend will fondly bring up something from the past and sweetly ask, “Do you remember?” I’d try to sound nostalgic/excited whilst exclaiming “I would never forget!” but folks could tell by the vacant or worried look in my eyes that I did not, in fact, recall a damn thing. Someone could fabricate a narrative involving the most absurd characters and elements, insert me into it, and have me believe that the anecdote was truth. Suckaaaa! After an in-depth internal investigation, I’m loathe to announce that there is no substantive or reliable historical archive in this noggin of mine.

Though I can’t recall actual facts or occurrences with any semblance of accuracy, I do remember how I felt about certain people and moments, and I do that with great aptitude (read: I have lots of feelings). And nothing jogs these implicit emotional memories quite like food and their associated smells, which is probably why my adoration for cooking and eating is so severe.

My mother cooked a lot of Korean and non-Korean food when I was growing up. And for some reason, the dish I most associate with her is Paprika Chicken Stew over Jasmine Rice. When I was somewhere between the ages of 11 and 17 (you see how terrible this brain is?), she told me that she needed a great ‘sous-chef’ in order to cook this dish and I volunteered with intense enthusiasm. I had never cooked before, and it sure seemed like it would be fun to touch a dead bird, throw flour around the kitchen, and chop vegetables like a ninja. Mom was always kind and encouraging; she kept calling me the ‘sous-chef’, even though I was chronically using sugar in place of salt. In any case, this has long been my go-to dish when I seek comfort and love in my belly and soul, even though she is no longer here to cook it for me.

mother, holding baby yejin

mother, holding baby yejin

Meet mom. Look at this magnificent human being! She was, for a long time, my everything: my muse; my source of encouragement, self-love and strength; my friend. Nine years ago, she left this world for another, one she suspected was filled with infinite amounts of clay for a happy eternity of pottery-making. She was suddenly gone, and my memory did nothing to keep her close. It didn’t matter how tightly I squeezed my eyes shut – shortly after losing her to breast cancer, I couldn’t hold onto something as tangible as the sound and timbre of her voice. It didn’t matter whether I journaled or shared detailed stories with friends, because my reality had always been (and continues to be) inextricably linked to actively living and growing with something or someone. And without her by my side, my brain can not reconcile the cognitive dissonance associated with remembering someone who no longer exists, someone who is no longer real. Components of memories that are palpable for most people, like images, sounds, words, sequences of events, those were the pieces of her that dissipated, first.

So, I no longer drive myself crazy when I want to feel my mother’s presence. Instead of trying to bully myself into recounting images, sounds, words, and sequences of events, I cook or eat something that smells and tastes like a moment or a feeling. For a happy moment, I make Paprika Chicken. Not because I (probably inaccurately) remember the time she taught me to cook the dish, but because upon taking one bite, I can close my eyes and feel what it was like to be loved by her. The tenderness of the chicken in this recipe, the creaminess of the stew, the way in which the rice soaks up the fatty goodness, the fragrance of sauteed onion, garlic, and hot paprika, all of these elements help me to re-feel and re-experience how much I loved her and how much she loved me.

It’s taken me a few years to embrace my fallible and feelings-based memory, and to accept the fact that I will probably always have a contentious relationship with my brain when it comes to remembering the words, images, and sounds of those who molded my heart and soul. But I have learned to take solace in the mnemonic possibilities of food. For me, smells and tastes can magically conjure feelings of love, righteous indignation, anger, happiness, or camaraderie, and help me to acknowledge important people and moments in my life.

I really love making and eating stews – they are hearty and comforting, like a tight hug from a loving and flannel-clad lumberjack. Though some stews require a good amount of preparation, I find them to be easy to manage since they’re largely cooked in one pot. For obvious reasons, this one is a favorite of mine. Without further ado, here’s the recipe:

Paprika Chicken Stew

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4-6 servings
Prep time: 15 minutes
Cooking time: 60 minutes

Ingredients:

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, for seasoning chicken
3 to 3 ½ lbs of bone-in chicken drumsticks and thighs
2 medium white onions, diced
3 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
2 green bell peppers, julienned
3 tablespoons of flour, to lightly dust the chicken
2 tablespoons of kosher salt
2 tablespoons of smoked paprika
½ teaspoon of cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon of freshly ground black pepper
1 ½ cups of water (or chicken stock for a heavier stew), plus more if needed
1 can of diced tomatoes, liquid drained
1 tablespoon of olive oil
2 tablespoons of butter

For thickening agent:
3 tablespoons of flour
¼ cup of water
½ cup of sour cream

2 cups of jasmine rice (also delicious served with egg noodles)

Directions

  1. Pat chicken dry with a paper towel to remove excess moisture. This will help to ensure that you brown your chicken with perfection!
  2. Liberally season the chicken with salt and pepper. Once seasoned, toss chicken in a large bowl and toss with three tablespoons of flour. Make sure each part of the drumsticks and thighs are lightly coated.
    Dusting meat with flour before searing/browning is optional, but I use this technique whenever I eventually want a thicker sauce. Here’s a great article from The Reluctant Gourmet called Why Flour Meat Before Browning
  3. In a large dutch oven or a pot with a heavy bottom, heat olive oil on high heat for one minute. Shake off any excess flour, and place pieces of chicken in the pot, skin side down. Do not overcrowd. Leave the chicken for 5 minutes, until golden brown and crispy. Flip the meat and cook for another 5 minutes. Transfer to a plate, and continue with remaining drumsticks and thighs.
    One thing that I’ve learned is not to tinker too much with the meat while it’s browning. The purpose of browning meat is two-fold: (1) to render excess fat; and (2) to beautifully caramelize the outside of your meat to maximize flavor. If you smell something starting to burn, turn the heat down to medium-high and adjust the piece of meat. Here’s a great article from The Kitchn on How to Sear Meat Properly.
  4. Discard all but 1 tablespoon of the fat rendered from the chicken and reduce heat to medium. Throw in 2 tablespoons of butter, add chopped onions and stir frequently for 2-3 minutes.The moisture from the cooking onions will grab some of those delicious brown bits stuck to the bottom of the pot.
  5. Add chopped garlic and cook/stir for another minute.
  6. Add paprika, cayenne pepper, salt, and freshly ground black pepper, and cook for another minute until the spices are very fragrant. Make sure to stir – burning the spices can lead to a bitter taste.
  7. Add can of diced tomatoes, water and gently stir. Return chicken drumsticks and thighs to pot. If there isn’t enough liquid to cover the chicken, add a little more. Once the stew comes to a gentle boil, lower the heat and cover the pot. Let it simmer for 45 minutes.
  8. While the stew is simmering, mix sour cream, flour, and water. Set aside for later use.
  9. Take the lid off the stew and add green bell peppers and the sour cream and flour mixture. Stir the pot. Cover and let it simmer for another 30 minutes. Taste and add salt based on your preferences.
  10. Meanwhile, cook jasmine rice as per package instructions.
  11. Put cooked rice into a bowl, place desired number of chicken pieces on top of rice, and ladle sauce over. Enjoy!