If there's one food I couldn't live without, it's kimchee. It makes sense, since I'm Korean and all. And you would think that 1) being Korean and 2) it being my favorite food, I would know how to make the spicy, pickled cabbage, but I don't. I'm sure I could read a "recipe" and do it, but unlike other "packaged" foods, kimchee from the store tastes pretty damned good. You see y'all, making kimchee is a major to-do, and it's so much easier to just run out to a local Asian market and buy the stuff already made.
That is why I just about fell over when I read that Barbara of food blog Tigers & Strawberries made kimchi at home. Her post has written and photographic detail of the whole stinky, spicy process, from raw Napa cabbage to the final full bottle of kimchee that's fermented for three days.
I came across an article on traditional Korean royal cuisine while perusing the The Korea Times this morning. OK, I lied about reading the Times, I'm not sure how I linked to the article.
Also known as surasang, Korean royal court cuisine was served during Korea's Joseon Dynasty, which ruled the country until 1910. As you can see the meal is laid out on three tables, a main one set with a multitude of banchan (small appetizer-type plates) along with rice and soup and two smaller tables with other dishes. Other than noting that a female assistant would taste each dish to ensure that the monarch was not being poisoned, there's not many details about the food itself in the Times piece.
Curiousity led me to open up my friendly Wikipedia where I soon found a 1,500-word article that proved not only to be a good introduction to surasang, but a pretty comprehensive study of Korean cuisine in general. It's worth reading just to know the Korean words for various types of banchan.
In case you're wondering, sura means a bowl of boiled rice or rice with added grains, and sang means table. Hence surasang. Now all I need to do is find out where to try surasang in New York City.
The two most popular cuts of beef for Korean barbecue are cross-cut shortribs (galbee) and thinly-sliced ribeye (bulgogi). However, marinating a whole side of beef, or in this case, a flank steak ,in the same seasonings, grilling, then slicing the grilled steak after cooking is a good way to enjoy Korean barbecue as well. Most Koreans wrap up a slice of beef with a little spoonful of rice and some red pepper sauce in a lettuce leaf, but I usually leave the rice out and double up on the hot sauce.
In a small bowl, combine 1/4 cup soy sauce, 2 Tbsp sesame oil, 1 Tbsp rice wine vinegar, 1 Tbsp sugar, 1/2 tsp. minced ginger, 4-5 minced garlic cloves, and a dash of black pepper.
Place a 2 lb flank steak in a large zipper seal bag, along with the marinade. Let steak marinate for about 30 minutes, turning the bag occasionally to cover all sides.
Grill the marinated flank steak for about 5 minutes per side for medium rare. Remove the steak from the heat and let sit, covered, for at least five minutes. Do not touch, poke or prod it.
Thinly slice the beef across the grain. Serve with whole leaves of red leaf lettuce and goh-choo-jahng (Korean red pepper sauce).
Grains, beans, and other legumes make up a large part of the Asian diet. In fact, at the Korean market, entire aisles can be dedicated to beans alone. Koreans add beans to white rice, creating a "mixed" steamed rice. My mother did this a few times when we were kids because there are a lot of health benefits, but when we saw bowls of steamed rice tainted with giant red, purple, and black beans, we wouldn't touch it. She made two pots of rice every night after that. One with plain white rice, and one with a mixture.
Some of us may be familiar with adzuki beans after they have been cooked down to almost a paste. They beans are sweet and nutty, but they are made sweeter with the addition of sugar and honey and used as a filling in pastries like Japanese mochi and Korean dduk. Koreans also use the beans to make "jook," a sweet porridge.
With a new little niece around, I am becoming more and more aware of what little babies
and toddlers eat. Cheerios and goldfish crackers always seem to the be the snack of choice, and dinner-time foods are
always finger-foods like chicken nuggets and peas. However, kiddies
around the world don't eat the same way. Heck, growing up in a Korean household, I'm quite sure I was wrapping up
little balls of rice in nori and spilling soy sauce all over myself. If you've ever wondered what a two-year-old in
South Africa is eating, check out this list:
Japanese toddlers may not be eating sushi, but they do lunch on egg-flavored rice with broiled fish or
seafood and miso soup with tofu. It's no wonder that Japan has the longest average lifespan, with the types of foods
that are introduced into the diets as such a young age.
In South Africa, kiddies eat toast thats been spread with a touch of Marmite, a concentrated yeast spread that is a by-product of the beer brewing
process.
Danish and Swedish kids eat meatballs and lots of other meat and potatoes. Sweden has the world's highest
consumption of ketchup, which kids put on to disguise anything that looks healthy.
In India, children eat khidchi, a spicy rice and lentils porridge.
They even list kids in Korea! Korean kids eat lots of kimchi, which is probably how they build up such a
tasty tolerance for spicy foods. They also eat gim-bahp and bibimbahp.
Will wonders at the Korean market never cease?! Sahm-gyae-tahng (that's my spelling, but
others may Romanize it differently) is a Korean chicken soup made by boiling a whole young chicken that is stuffed with
sweet rice, ginseng, and Korean dates (jujubes). It supposed to simmer for a long time on the stove top to draw all the
nutrients out of the chicken's meat and bones, so it's supposedly served as a "healing" soup.
At the market, I came across sahm-gyae-tahng all ready to go in a bag - rice, dried ginseng, Korean dates, and even
the seasonings. All you have to do is add a chicken and follow the directions on the package. Kind of like those Hormel
add-your-own meat mixes.
In English, C is for chicken, but in Korean, D is for "dahk," and the "jj" in the Korean
word for stew "jjim" is a sound that doesn't have an English equivalent. About the closest thing is something
between "j" and "ch."
So now that we're done with the Korean language lesson, dahk-jjim is a type of
Korean homestyle comfort food. It is a chicken stew made by cooking chicken on the bone for a very long time in a pot on
the stove top. Onions, carrots, and potatoes also go into the pot, along with the stewing liquid of chicken broth, soy
sauce, and a few other seasonings. Serve it with steamed white rice and since the dahk jjim isn't spicy, put
some spicy bahn
chan on the table.
If you didn't already know about it, then you know about Korean barbecue now with all of my posting about how
Korean will be the new "it" cuisine this year. Korean barbecue restaurants serve raw,
marinated meats, and diners cook the meat themselves at the table over a gas or charcoal grill that is usuall embedded
in the table. Galbee (marinated beef shortribs), bulgogi
(thinly sliced marinated flank steak), dae-jee bulgogi (spicy marinated pork) - these are all Korean barbecue
meats.
But you don't have to restrict yourself to Korean restaurants for Korean barbecue. Japanese restaurants also serve
their version of Korean barbecue and call it "yakiniku." They keep the same principle of grilling at the
table and the same basic marinade for the meats. The Japanese restaurants add their own flair with
fancier grills and different types of things to cook over the grill. Korean barbecue traditionally grills only meats
with an occasional sliced onion or mushooms and get their vegetables from bahnchan. Japanese add vegetables to the
grill - sometimes directly on the grill, or in small foil packets with butter.
In LA, Gyu-kaku and Manpuku are the only strictly yakiniku restaurants I've
tried. Places like Musha in Santa Monica and Torrance serve yakiniku style items as part of a widely varied menu.
Growing up, there were
occasions when my non-Korean friends would come over for dinner and Mom would insist that we serve Korean food. I
whined. I fought. And finally, when Mom said we were having Korean food or nothing, I sulked, certain that I'd lose my
friends forever.
But I didn't, because my Mom was wise and chose to keep the kimchee in the refrigerator, and serve
bulgogi, galbee (removed from the
bone to make it easier to eat), and jahp-chae, a Korean dish of transparent noodles sauteed with meat, vegetables
and the basic Korean seasoning of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil. Jahp-chae is an accessible taste for
non-Koreans because it's very similar to many Chinese stir-fried noodle dishes. The dish is served family-style
alongside steamed rice, other dishes and bahn-chan.
The noodles, by themselves called "dahng-myun," are transparent because they are made from sweet potato
starch. These days, however, more Koreans are making jahp-chae with any form of transparent, or "glass,"
noodles. The dish can be made vegetarian by leaving out the meat, and even vegan by leaving out any eggs. The
vegetables that Mom always used were spinach, mushrooms, carrots, red bell peppers, onions, and green onions.