Creating in the Kitchen: Connecting to the World Through Food

I ran across the weblog today of a self-taught amateur "world chef" and backyard gardener (such as I aspire to be) who has dedicated his cyberspace to sharing cooking adventures of a predominantly Asian kind. Though he currently resides in the deserts of California, he spent several years of his life living abroad, including a stint in Tokyo where his first exposures to Korean cuisine bloomed into a full-fledged love affair with Asian-inspired cooking.

His background struck a chord with me, as my first experience living abroad -- teaching in central Taiwan --introduced me to foods and preparations I had never heard of before, and which tempted my curiosities unendingly. I sampled the smoke-scented of street vendors, sipped exotic teas, slurped authentic chao mian noodles and spicy chicken innards, and began peeling off the layers of Eastern gastronomy one morsel at a time. For me, my year in Asia was the beginning of what has now grown into a deep passion and appreciation for all things Eastern... not the least of which is food.

I scrolled through the pages of sumptuous photos and straight-forward narratives so carefully archived by Mr. "Evil Jungle Prince", eagerly recognizing names of Korean dishes I've sampled and beginning a mental list of others I want to try. Kimchi, for instance, has been high on my agenda of foods to prepare with my own two hands, and seeing the at least half-dozen renditions of kimchis presented on this site was encouraging, and somewhat demystifying. His version of Cubed Radish Kimchi (kkaktugi), for example, looks particularly appealing.

Mostly, however, I think I was attracted to this site not for the pretty pictures or the down-to-earth descriptions. It was a paragraph I read in his "About Me" section that seemed to echo -- almost eerily -- most own sentimentalities about food and cooking and sharing my thoughts with the world:

"...Cooking for me is... an escape of sorts. After having spent many years of my life living outside the United States, 'growing up' has meant settling down a bit. And while settling in a particular place in the world comes with it so many joys, it also means giving up one's freedom to roam around the world at will. Cooking allows me to have it both ways.

"...The act of cooking is also a form of therapy. In a world which is largely out of our control, cooking allows one to cultivate beauty and perfection... [To] prepare food with one's own hands is to exert control over an otherwise chaotic world."

Amen to self-therapy and complete creative control in the kitchen. Amen to the simplicity of wielding common ingredients to an uncommon end. And although I'm fortunate to be living abroad at the moment -- an experience which I truly am savoring, I know I won't always be so fortunate as to be immersed in the sights, sounds, and flavors of another culture. Preparing a dish from other parts of the world roots me to journeys from my past that are infused with an exotic blend of unforgettable impressions and fond memories. And perhaps that explains my fascination with not just seeing the world, but tasting it.

Western Indulgence and Peanut Butter Pancakes

It has been a week a Western indulgence for me. Call it what you like, but I think of it as my unique way of experiencing the culture shock that is bound to hit all foreigners away from home after a months abroad. While homesickness and loneliness haven't made an appearance (and I say that in great hopes that they'll keep their distance), my cravings for the foods that shaped my American appetite have increased exponentially over the past week or two.

I managed to hold my ground for long enough, I figured. So, this week, I gave in to my wanton whims and traded in my chopsticks and healthy Asian fare for a true slice of the SAD (Standard American Diet, that is). My soy sauce and pepper paste didn't even make it out of the fridge this week.

... Beginning with an overdue lunch at Pizza Hut with new friend Elana, a Canadian gal teaching at a university in neighboring Unsan, where we systematically dismantled and digested a cheese-laden pineapple pan pizza (her half with Canadian bacon, of course)...
... Picking up speed with a mid-week plate of pan-fried potatoes, sliced super thin and lightly fried with a dousing of salt, pepper, and vinegar...
... Building to a steady roar yesterday with a late-night run to the mini-mart across the street for a box of chewy chocolate chip cookies...
... and celebrated with a grand finale tonight, an utterly decadent twist on the familiar weekend breakfast plate of down-home pancakes (which is my true motivation for confessing this embarrassing display of complete and utter calorie denial).

Somewhere between my mouth-watering recollections of lazy Sunday brunches at home and the availability of Korean kitchen staples, I managed to strike a delicate balance, and emerged from my mini-kitchen tonight with a plate of syrupy goodness that really deserves to be shared. And repeated.

And I've decided that this is perhaps a bit more of what cooking in Korea is about for me, after all -- not a tossing aside of my culinary heritage (which is more an eclectic mix of the world's cuisines than straight American cooking anyway), but as a workshop for me to experiment with the added dimensions of Eastern influences in my cooking repertoire.

I had soy milk in my fridge tonight, a tub of raw peanuts in my cabinet, not an egg or stick of butter to my name, and an intense urge to sink my fork into a pile of pancakes. Feeling adventurous, I started pulling random baking ingredients out of my cupboard -- a bag of vanilla-flavored powder, ground cinnamon, oil, flour, baking powder, some terribly dark and granular brown sugar, and the remnants of a jar of peanut butter that I had paid top dollar for at the local grocery store a few weeks ago (I confess, the absurdity of paying $5 for a small-ish jar of generic PB completely escaped me at the time). Maple syrup was out of the question, though I did have a bottle of Korean malt syrup which was sweet enough to do the trick.

I got to work measuring and mixing up a bubbly bowlful of brown-tinted batter, using a recipe for eggless pancakes (vegan-style) as my starting point. The taste of roasted peanuts had been my inspiration, so I decided to layer the cakes coming hot off the griddle with a thin layer of peanut butter, and top the whole lot with a dousing of syrup and a handful of crushed-up peanuts. It turned out to be an absolutely winning combination.

For the peanut lovers among you (and especially anyone staring blankly at their Korean kitchen cupboards wondering what to do with your IHOP cravings), give this a try:

Peanut Butter Pancakes (Serves 2)
1/4 cup raw peanuts, chopped (divided)
1 cup flour (spoon-sifted)
2 Tbsp sugar (I used dark brown, though any kind should do)
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla powder (sub with vanilla extract)
a sprinkle of salt
a dash or two of cinnamon
1 cup soy milk (you can probably sub with regular milk, though the soy adds a nice flavor)
2 tablespoons oil (nothing strong-flavored, EVOO and sesame are out)
2 Tbsp peanut butter
1/2 cup syrup (maple works, as does Korean malt syrup)
Dry-roast the chopped peanuts in a griddle over medium heat until lightly toasted. Set aside to cool.
Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, vanilla powder, salt, and cinnamon in a small bowl. Add milk, oil, and half of roasted peanuts; beat with a fork until smooth. Pour batter onto a hot, oiled griddle (in ~1/4-cup increments).
Flip quickly when bubbles break the surface, and the edges are a bit stiffened. Cook one minute longer, then transfer to a serving plate. Repeat with remaining batter.
As you stack the pancakes, smoothing a thin layer of peanut butter over each cake. When finished, spoon the remaining chopped peanuts over the pancake stack, and douse with syrup. Serve warm with a glass of soy milk. Enjoy!

A Little EVOO Does a Body Good

I'm a food-loving girl, I've got an adventurous appetite, and I don't shrink back from trying the exotic and unusual (I DID actually swallow silkworm larvae, now didn't I?) However, there comes a time for even the most eclectic of chefs at heart when a taste of the familiar ranks higher on the scoreboard that another culinary expedition.
I've had some extremely rewarding kitchen workshop sessions during these past few months, and have managed to cook up a whole host of Korean dishes ranging from miso soup with tofu to barley rice to my own version of bibimbap (rice topped with fried egg and seasoned seaweed strips). I've delved into the art of banchan, the deliciously seasoned side dishes mostly consisting of cooked and raw vegetables that populate the tabletops of restaurants from one side of this nation to the other. I've blanched bean sprouts, stir-fried garlic-laden eggplant, marinated tofu cubes, and stir-fried gorgeous mixtures of fresh vegetables which are found in abundance at my local grocery store. But what I really wanted tonight was a taste of home... which in all honesty is actually more a taste of Italian meet Vegetarian, but happens to be the kind of food I absolutely love when I'm listening to what's good for my body.
During my shopping spree at Lotte Mart with Terry weeks ago, I bought a tall, cylindrical bottle made of dark green glass, bearing a tempting label: "Extra-Virgin Olive Oil, imported from Crete." I find the prospect of anything imported from Greece here in Korea highly exotic, and I simply couldn't roll my cart on down the aisle until I had managed to pluck a bottle off the shelf to take home with me. I was so excited to saute some vegetables and drizzle some of the intensely flavored green gold over the entire plate... or mince up some garlic and craft some of that mouth-watering Italian dipping oil that has won quite a few accolades from friends, family, and roommates with whom I shared my secret :)
But alas, the metal lid factory-sealed on my purchased bottle had an unfortunate flaw: it wouldn't release or unscrew. So I was stuck with this gorgeous bottle of EVOO and no way to get at the goods. It was like the old adage come to life, "Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink." Miserable. So Harrison came to the rescue. I brought the bottle to the staff meeting today and, with a pair of high-quality wire cutters and more elbow grease than I personally could muster, he was able to pop the seal and open the bottle which I had almost resigned to being no more than a piece of fine kitchen decor. I could contain myself no longer... Back in my humble little kitchen, I julienned several red peppers into thick, meaty slices, and chopped potatoes into cubes. I tossed the potatoes with sea salt, black pepper (oh, how I wish I had a pepper mill at my command!), and rosemary, and drizzled them generously with olive oil. Minutes later, the timer on my teeny little toaster oven was clicking away as the potatoes began sizzling away.
Separately, I sauteed the red pepper strips in a puddle of EVOO and doused them with a generous sprinkling of herbs. The end result transported me back to late autumn evenings last year in Pennsylvania, when I first began experimenting with and quickly fell in love with roasting vegetables in all forms. Roasting seems to bring out the subtle and temptingly delicious flavors latent in even the mildest of vegetables. You really can't go wrong. I would give up my microwave in a heartbeat any day of the week, as long as I can keep my tiny little portable oven on hand. (To be honest, my microwave has been demoted from kitchen countertop to the balcony, where it has been sitting unused since I arrived.) Some things, a girl can live with out. Fortunately for me, here in Seosan, a bottle of EVOO isn't one of them!

Serving it Up Korean-Style

This weekend marked the beginning of my Korean culinary experiments! After finishing up the marathon shopping trip with Terry on Saturday, I returned home with MASSIVE hunger pangs! My bare cabinets were bare no longer, and it was time to silence the hungry beast in my belly. So what's a girl to cook??
I decided to take Terry's suggestions and cook up some rice with barley and Korean black beans. Following Korean cooking protocol, I rinsed and drained the grains and beans three times in tap water, then left them to soak for 1/2 hour. I drained them once more, and then loaded everything into my studio-size rice cooker.
The next trick was figuring out how much water to add to the pot. Harrison, nice guy that he is, had stopped by my apartment yesterday to pump up my bike tires and introduce me to the wonders of the rice cooker (seriously, is he too good to be true, or what?). He showed me the age-old Korean measuring technique that his mother used, and that his wife uses still today. No measuring cups needed. OK folks at home, give this a try next time you're making rice in a cooker. Cup your hand over the rice so that your fingertips and the palm of your hand rest on the top of the rice. Now fill the pot with water utnil your knuckles are almost submerged with water. That's it. I'm here, in part, to glean the secrets of ancient wisdom, right? So be it. I cupped the rice with my palm, filled the pot just so, popped down the lid, and let the machine take over.

Meanwhile, I scoured my painstakingly collected Korean recipe "box" (I am in love with the computerized recipe database Big Oven... check it out at http://www.bigoven.com/) to find some general guideline for making a soybean-based soup. With Terry, I had purchased Korean-style miso (soybean paste, called "denjang" in Korean), as well as garlic, Korean chives (think really, really big spring onions), tofu, "gochujang" (a spicy paste made of red peppers), and enoki mushrooms. A few minutes later, the rice cooker was steaming itself into a frenzy, and the fragrance of onion and mushrooms permeated my tiny apartment.
I quickly set the table, and prepared the final ingredient, chopped seaweed, which at Harrison's suggestion, I would eat atop my rice bowl. I spooned everything into little round bowls and, after documenting the big moment :), took a big spoon of my "guk" (soup)... The verdict... a little spicy, with an otherwise mild flavor... and the mushrooms... delicious! And the barley rice with black beans and seaweed? The taste was pleasant, the seaweed added just the right balance of flavor to the very subtle grains. I had to adapt a bit to the purplish hue that the rice took on from the black beans, but in all, I felt quite pleased with myself :) Not bad for my first Korean cooking adventure! Bon appetit!

Stocking the Pantry!

What an adventure I had today!! I spent several hours at Lotte Mart, Seosan's biggest department store, where I had my first lesson in Korean grocery shopping. Fortunately, I had done a little homework before heading out, or I would have been in some serious hot water. Those of you who know me, know what a passion -- verging on obsession -- I have with all this ethnic, cultural, international. So it shouldn't come as any surprise to you that while I'm here in Korea, I fully intend to do a lot of things Korean-style. Bloom where you're planted, isn't that right? To my mind, a fully authentic experience, one that rings true to my reasons for coming here in the first place, does not revolve around dinners of pizza, Kentucky Fried Chicken, or spaghetti. (Actually, all of the above are right here in town, for those times, which I'm sure will happen, when I'm craving something really Western).
For a while now, though, I've immersed myself in a love and fascination of Eastern cultures, philosophies, religions, medicines, and of course, cuisine. That love is one of the over-arching reasons I chose to come to Korea. I happen to believe that there is a lot of wisdom passed down from generation to generation in these cultures that have been in existence since ancient times. And I think it would be a terrible waste if I were not to really try to integrate and assimilate as much as I can, this knowledge. So with that rather philosophical opening, I give you ... My First Korean Shopping List!
I thought it might be interesting for some of you back home to take a look at what a typical trip to the market yields here in Korea. Also, the prices are listed in Won, as well as USD, which is also kind of interesting (or is that just the analyst in me coming out? Thanks, Dad, I've always attributed my number-crunching interest to you!!)
₩8,780 $8.51 dried small anchovies, 900g (for using to flavor soups)
₩4,130 $4.00 rice vinegar
₩2,430 $2.36 apple vinegar
₩1,420 $1.38 buckwheat noodles (Japanese style)
₩1,030 $1.00 wheat noodles (Korean style)
₩1,580 $1.53 black bean paste chunjang
₩2,130 $2.06 roasted sesame seeds
₩3,860 $3.74 rice paper wrappers (Vietnamese style, for spring rolls)
₩1,868 $1.81 yellow miso paste (Korean style, made of soybeans)
₩2,740 $2.66 red pepper paste
₩3,866 $3.75 soy sauce (regular)
₩4,320 $4.19 soy sauce (Korean style, for making soups)
₩7,632 $7.40 sesame oil
₩7,930 $7.69 dried black beans (Korean style, for cooking with rice)
₩15,980 $15.49 ground soybean + grain health drink
₩1,300 $1.26 sea salt
₩3,800 $3.68 barley (dried, for cooking with rice)
₩1,630 $1.58 seaweed paper (for chopping into cooked rice)
₩1,920 $1.86 Nori sheets (seaweed for rolling rice/kimbap)
₩1,950 $1.91 oyster sauce (Chinese style)
₩2,740 $2.66 soy milk (1 quart)
₩1,050 $1.02 soybean curd (tofu)
₩3,680 $3.57 eggs (1 dozen)
₩1,160 $1.12 bananas (5 little bananas, ~$.022/ea)
₩4,333 $4.20 sweet potatoes (4 medium, $1.05/ea)
₩2,115 $2.05 carrots (4 HUGE!)
₩2,980 $2.89 fresh pineapple
₩1,760 $1.71 bean sprouts
₩2,123 $2.06 tomatoes (2 med, ~$1.03/ea)
₩830 $0.80 fresh garlic cloves (about 12)
₩980 $0.95 Korean chives (1 massive bunch)
₩860 $0.83 fresh ginger
₩650 $0.62 baking soda
Who knew, for instance, that there was a special kind of soy sauce just for making soup? Or that there were so many different varieties of sea plants / seaweed? I'm already missing the abundance of fresh fruit I enjoyed at home... prices for fruits here are steep, and with the exception of this week's pineapple sale and little bananas (which are very affordable), I had to pass them up :(Stay tuned for my next post, in which I'll be trying to turn some of these ingredients into the solution to my already-growling stomach!!

To Market, to Market!

I got a free tour of Seosan today, lucky me... OK, actually boss boss, Harrison, took me on a short ride around town today, after the 12:00 staff meeting. Although I'm still staying with my host family for a few more days, I've been anxious to start getting my bearings, learn a few essentials -- namely, where to get money and food.We started with a drive past my apartment (which is literally a 3-minute walk from the school, very convenient, and just opposite a small corner market selling a few groceries). A quick right turn took us to a hill, and after a quick up, over and down, we crossed a busy road and turned right again to reach the one of Seosan's main drags.Just near the corner is Seosan-mart where I will, I suppose, do most of my grocery shopping. Lined along both sides of this road, which leads to a 6-spoke traffic circle (and the point through which all traffic entering Seosan must
navigate) are myriad shops and stores, including an organic foods market, a stationery shop, the post office, and the bank. We quickly walked through several of the shops, and managed to grab a quick bite to eat at the Paris Bakery (one of two French-named bakery chains in town) -- a yeast bread sprinkled with chunks of sweet potato and a bottle of chilled soya milk.As we walked back towards the car, Harrison and I stopped at Seosan's local market, which was, for me, the most exciting. Gigantic, colorful umbrellas formed a canopy of shade above the dozens of vendors ready to make a sale.
Women sat or squatted alongside bulging baskets of leafy greens and exotic-looking fruits. This is the place to buy fruits and vegetables, Harrison informed me, as the prices are best, and everything is locally grown and very fresh. I felt dozens of eyes boring into me, a foreign woman who no doubt looked very out of place in this microcosm of traditional Korea. The next section of the market was lively -- tank after tank of live fish, octopus, crab -- you name it, still swimming, crawling, and moving about. We made a U-turn at that point, as it was time to head back to school for classes. I'm looking forward soon to taking another trip to the local market... but perhaps first, I should learn at least a few words of Korean... haggling for a good price is the name of the game in a market like this!