mary eats

I finally made bulgogi, and honestly, I don’t know what took so darn long.

Bulgogi isn’t a complicated dish, in fact quite the opposite. A marinade is made; meat is sliced, then soaked, and then cooked.

Dating back to the 13th century, bulgogi does have a long history in Korean cuisine, and having been passed down from mother to daughter over the centuries, there appear to be as many recipes for the sweet soy marinade as there are Korean surnames.

This time I used the requisite soy, ginger, but replaced sugar with apple juice (I couldn’t find pear), though I’ve seen it done with kiwis. I used top serloin, something my husband soundlessy though effectively protested with rib poking when the whole foods butcher weighed out a pound at 15.99. We’ve decided to stop shopping at Whole Foods.

The whole thing was surpisingly simple. I used my mother in laws meat slicer to get the meat relatively thin (the guy at whole foods claimed not to have a slicer, but offered to slice it with a knife, so so so clueless)

I marinated the meat, giving up on microplaning the inch nub of ginger, instead throwing the whole fibrous lump into the pot.

Needing carbs and wanting to soak up the juices I added some ddok to the dish then served it all on a med of micro-greens with a dollop of ssamjang and a shaving of garlic. None of which was needed. I would happily eaten the meat off the plate with my hands.

Here’s my recipe
2 1/2 Tbsp soy sauce
1 1/2 Tbsp Honey
2Tbsp Apple Juice
1 T minced green onion
1 Tbsp minced garlic
1 Tbsp minced ginger
1 Tbsp Sesame Seed oil
1/4 tsp black pepper

1 pound beef serloin, thinly sliced

1/2 cupsliced ddok, soaked in water for 15 minutes

Garnish
A handful of washed micro greens
1 Tbsp ssamjang per person
1 clove garlic per person, thinly sliced

1. Combine all the bulgogi marinade ingredients in a bowl and mix well.

2. Slice the meat (or add already sliced mea) to the marinade and stir to coat the meat. Let stand for 30 minutes.

3. Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. Add the meat and marinade and cook. Drain the sliced ddok and add to the meat mixture. Cook until ddok is tender and meat has reached desired state of doneness.

On each plate lay down a handful of washed microgreens. Place a healthy dollop of ssamjang on each plate accompanied by sliced garlic. Top off greens with a serving of bulgogi.

I am also shopping around for a takbagi bulgogi (is that right) recipe.

So I’m curious, with all the variations, how do you cook bulgogi? What do you put in your marinade? How do you plate it, and have you ever considered enveloping it in puff pastry?

I know it is a bit off point, but having wrapped up my first quarter of school I can’t help but begin planning my Chef of the Day; a final of sorts for culinary graduates where we plan and execute a 5 course meal. I’m thinking of North Asian ingredients with Western European Techniques. For a main course I’m considering a Korean take on beef Wellington. And ideas?

“If it not be ripe it will drawe a mans mouth awrie with much torment; but when ripe it is as delicious as an Apricock” - Captain John Smith, 17th century.

Fuyu persimmons

October marks the arrival persimmons to Korea’s markets, tables, and tree branches. Having not tried one until I came to Seoul it was surprising to learn that the persimmon was a popular fruit in the American South in the 17th century, primarily used in baked goods, puddings, and such.

I recall having seen them in Olympia’s Eastside Co-op, sequestered to the far corner of the produce case, contained in a plastic tray, ripened to a barely stable mush, surrounded by a cloud of fruit files. Needless to say, I never purchased one.

Korean persimmon tree

Persimmons are a tricky fruit, the many varieties fall into two categories, astringent and non-astringent. The former, most likely tasted by Captain John Smith, contain high levels of tannins (red wine pucker) and cannot be eaten until it is puddingly soft. Non-astringent varieties, including the popular fuyu, sold in the Korean grocery stores and off the back of trucks, can be eaten hard or soft. However, the indigenous Korean variety, whose shape sags like a teardrop, is tres astringent. Better to look at, than to bite.

dried persimmons, kotkam

For Koreans, persimmons are commonly consumed and used in desserts. Dried persimmons are often stuffed with walnuts and sliced into rounds to be served with tea. They are also mixed with ginger to create a tasty “punch”, Sujonggwa, which is often served at the end of a Hanjeongsik meal. Persimmon vinegar is popular with the health conscious, as it is said to help digestion after heavy meals by dinking a glass of water graced with a teaspoon of vinegar. Bottoms up!
Hanjeongsik meals are multi course meals providing an array of side dishes.

Earlier this month my kitchen (toaster oven) was a flurry with persimmon related activity. Counted among the successes, a persimmon and jujube bar, a persimmon cream cheese tart, and wait for it, a persimmon cheesecake. Not so successful, getting the walnuts into the dried persimmons and slicing them into neat rounds, or the crust for the tart. I blame it on the toaster oven.

Persimmon and Jujube Bars with Lemon Icing
Adapted from an online recipe from the webstie recipes.epicurean.com
Prep time 45 minutes. Baking time 15 minutes
Makes 16 delicious cookies.

Ingredients for the persimmon bars
Ingredients
16 Korean dates jujubes
4 Soft persimmons
1 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 egg, beaten
1 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup soybean or other vegetable oil
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt,
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon,
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

3/4 cups powdered sugar
2 Tbsp lemon juice
Zest of 1/2 a lemon

1. Place the jujubes in a bowl and cover with boiling water. Cover the bowl with a plate and let soak for 30 minutes. Drain jujubes, remove pit and coarsely chop. Set aside.
2. Take four very ripe persimmons and remove skins, and stem. Using a wooden spoon, or your clean hands, press the soft persimmons through a fine meshed sieve. Discard seeds. Place the pulp in a bowl and add the lemon juice and baking soda. Set aside
3. In a large bowl combine the egg, sugar, and vegetable oil. Mix to combine.
4. In another bowl (yes, this recipe calls for a lot of dishes) mix the dry ingredients: flour, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. Add the flour mixture to the sugar mixture, alternating with the persimmon mixture. Stir to combine.
5. Add the chopped nuts and jujubes.
6. Pour dough into a square glass baking dish, smeared with butter.
7. Bake in your toaster oven (or real oven 350 degrees) for 15-20 minutes, depending on the strength of your oven. Use a toothpick to test for doneness

8. Let the cookie cool in pan, atop a wire cooling rack for 10 minutes. Invert baking dish and remove cookie from pan. Let cool completely on rack

9. In a small bowl (the last bowl, I promise), whisk together the powdered sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest. Brush the glaze atop the cookie and let harden 15 minutes. Cut the cookie into bars and serve.

Not a baker? From www.sdfarmbureau.org comes other ways to enjoy fall’s bounty.

Slice Fuyu and spread with lime juice, salt, and chili powder. Eat with a slice of cheese or spread with peanut butter.

For an Autumn Salad, mix cubed Fuyu with grapes, pomegrante seeds, cubed apple, and pretty sliced green kiwi.

Top hot or cold cereal with little pieces of bright orange Fuyu.

Salsa is great when chopped Fuyu, onion, tomatillo, cilantro, and chili serrano are mixed together.

Smoothies can be blended using Fuyu, ice, lime juice, and milk. Sweeten if desired.

Syrup for hotcakes is delightful when peeled and chopped or blended Fuyu is cooked with butter and sugar.

Dehydrate thin slices of Fuyu to enjoy as a snack or to add to trail mix.

Eat up before they’re gone.

Some of my most favorite food blogs these days are coming out of Singapore. And why wouldn’t they be? It is a city famous for a smattering of cultures and a kaleidoscope of cuisines, where street food rivals white tablecloths establishments, and chili crab reigns supreme. If you are a foodie, make it a point to get to the city-state at some point. Preferably soon.

A few daily reads include chubby hubby, kuidaore, and kitchen crazy daffy. Recently daffy posted a recipe for braised pork belly, and it spoke to me.

Having recently started eating meat again after a 10-plus year absence, I am still a little skittish on the texture issue. Uniform, people, uniform. No surprises, please. Gnawing away on pork belly sounded as appetizing, as, wall, gnawing away on a giant piece of fat. In our mini fridge (Yes. Our fridge is a mini fridge. Don’t judge) sat a beautifully marbled piece of salmon and soon the brain waves started buzzing. “Pork belly is fat, salmon has fat. It can work!”

After a battery of ingredients began to boil, a beguiling aroma wafted through the apartment. A long absence had transpired since I last combined cloves, star anise, and ginger in a sugar solution.

I quickly seared the salmon, achieving the desired crispy browning, and after having strained the liquid, braised the salmon for a brief time. Braising is traditionally used for tough meats that desire a certain state of tenderness. Fish is not something one would traditionally braise. But poach? Why not.

What resulted was a salty/sweet syrup in which rested a tender buttery piece of fish. Lunchtime was never so divine.

Daffy’s recipe called for a mixture of light and dark soy sauce, and if you cook in Korea, please let me know if we have light soy sauce. Being a resident of a metric speaking country her recipe also featured the dreaded liter and milliliters, causing me to guesstimate. I found the sauce a tad on the salty side. Figuring I used too much soy sauce, I was surprise to find an empty fish sauce bottle in the recycling bin the next morning. Whoops.

Oolong Tea Steeped Salmon
Adapted from Daffy’s posting of
Anderson Ho’s Oolong Tea Steeped Pork Belly from the book Menu DeGustation.

Serves 4. Total time (cook and prep) about 45 minutes.

*note: You can find spices like cinnamon sticks, cloves, and star anise at the Discount International Food market next to what the book in Itaewon. They also carry fried shallots and fresh cilantro.

A good, fat pinch of Oolong tealeaves
15ml (or 1 Tablespoon) dark soy sauce (this is where I accidentally used fish sauce)
100ml (or 6 and a half Tablespoons) light soy sauce
3 cinnamon sticks
2 cloves
3 star anise
1.5 liters (about 6 cups) chicken stock
1-inch knob of peeled ginger
1/4 cup rice wine (I used mirin, a Japanese rice wine)
1-2 Tablespoons brown sugar to taste
300g Salmon, seasoned with salt and pepper

1/2 teaspoon cornstarch
2 Tbsp water

2-3 Tablespoons fried shallots
2 Tablespoons fresh cilantro/coriander chopped

2 cups of short grain sticky rice cooked

1. In a large saucepan combine Oolong tealeaves, cinnamon sticks, cloves, star anise, chicken stock, soy sauces, ginger and rice wine and simmer for 20 minutes.

2. Sear the salmon on both sides in a medium skillet over high heat. What you want is a crispy brown crust to form on the edges and the middle.

3. Using a fine meshed strainer, strain the poaching liquid into a measuring cup or container. Pout the liquid in the pan with the salmon until the liquid comes a little more than half way up the fish. Simmer in the braising liquid for 5 minutes or until tender. Timing is everything for this recipe. Watch how long you sear the fish for. You may end up cooking it through if you leave it in the pan too long. I like my salmon a little pink in the center, and found around five minutes to be fine.

4. One the fish is ready, remove the salmon and slice into individual servings.

5. Bring braising liquid to a boil and add cornstarch solution. Give it a couple of minutes to thicken. You want the sauce to coat the back of a spoon.

6. Serve salmon over rice with sauce and garnish with crispy shallots and cilantro/coriander.

The subtle crispness in the air, the ability to sleep at night, a jacket for the morning commute, yes, it is fall.

Finally temperatures have cooled in Seoul. This means I am no longer camping out at Starbucks in front of monolithic air conditioners, bowing down to a false idol. My clothing is no longer regulated to a uniform of breathable jersey t-shirts and skirts (thank you American Appeal). No. I am now free to wear my skinny jeans, oxford shirts, and if I dare, boots. Gasp.

In Seattle I eagerly awaited fall like a child waiting for her birthday. A bounty of winter squashes, dark greens and the return of asparagus were my presents. I couldn’t wait to pull out my trusty orange Le Creuset Dutch oven, stained with years of use, and start a stew or polenta.

With the exception of the pine mushroom, a mushroom that grows at the base of pine trees absorbing a unique pine flavor, fall isn’t specially marked by the return of produce or seasonal dishes. Folks go about like they had before with a few less bowls of Naeng Myeong and a couple less patbingsus.

For me, however, fall is still special, because I can finally turn on the freekin’ stove and make coffee without sweating! Kev and I have started buzzing about the kitchen again, discourse has returned to food related themes.

One of our first fall dishes was a vegetable and ddok sauté. Crisp tender veggies, slightly browned, and toothsome ddok (rice cakes), captured the essence of fall noshing. Comfortable and familiar like putting on a favorite oversized wool sweater. Charmingly rustic, the mix warmed the belly and whetted the appetite for a season of hearty eats.

Ddok and Veggie Stir Fry
Serves two.

2 cups ddok (Korean rice cakes, logs cut on the diagonal found in the refrigerated section at the supermarket)
2 potatoes, quartered
1 Melon, sliced
Handful kale, de-stemmed and chopped
1 carrot, cut to bite sized pieces
2 T soy sauce
1 T garlic
2 leeks, finely chopped
2 T sugar
1 T sesame oil
1 tsp gochu flakes

Prepare all veg, steam the potato quarters 7 minutes to soften

In a bowl, mix the soy sauce, garlic, leeks, sugar, sesame oil, and gochu. This is your flavor base. You can always adjust the taste later.

Wait to cook the ddok until you are absolutely ready to use it, or it will turn hard. To cook the ddok, bring about 4 cups of water to a boil in a saucepan. Add the ddok and let cook 3 minutes. You want the ddok to start getting soft, but not too soft, much like you would when cooking pasta. Ddok is great for absorbing flavors, and you want it to suck up the sauce, not the water.

Heat a large skillet and add a tbsp of oil. Add the ddok, potatoes, melon, carrots, and kale. Stir occasionally, for 5 minutes. Aim for a small golden crust on the veg and ddok. Add the sauce and simmer for 5 minutes. Here I like to give the mixture one stir at the beginning to coat, but then leave it alone for the next 5. If you can resist the urge to tamper, you will be rewarded with a sauce reduction, stickily adhered to the mixture. Delicious.

Serve over rice, preferably brown, because as you can see there is no protein in this dish.

While 30-minute meals are not my usual night in the kitchen, I can appreciate a quick fix. Not only do I have the factors of stress and time working against me every day, but man, if you could see the size of my kitchen. It’s smaller than any NY studio’s. I’m willing to put money on it.

Here I’ve adjusted a Martha Stewart recipe to reflect the flavors of Korea. The five mainstays of Korean seasoning, garlic, soy sauce, chili flakes, sesame oil, and green onions are the flavor base. Aside from the cilantro, everything needed, can be purchased at your neighborhood shop.

Rice with Tofu, dried Mushrooms, and Swiss Chard Adapted from Martha Stewart, serves 4.

1 1/2 cup short-grain rice (if using brown adjust the water to 3 cups)
1/4 cup dried Shiitake mushrooms, broken into smaller pieces
8 oz extra-firm tofu, cubed
1 Tbsp minced garlic
1 Tbsp minced ginger
1 tsp dried gochu (crushed red pepper flakes)
1/4 tsp salt
2 good handfuls Swiss chard de-stemmed and chopped (you can use any dark green from spinach to collard greens)
1/2 cup chopped green onions
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
2 Tbsp Soy sauce
1 1/2 Tbsp rice vinegar
1 t toasted sesame oil.
1 cup mungbean sprouts

1. In the bowl of your rice cooker, add the rice, water, mushrooms, tofu, ginger, garlic, chili and salt. Give it a good stir to combine. Close the rice cooker and cook until machine beeps. About 30 minutes, longer if using brown rice.
2. If your rice cooker is big enough stir in the spinach, if not layering it on top works fine too. Cover and let steam 10-15 minutes, or as long you can wait. Stir in scallions, cilantro, soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil. Dish onto plates and garnish with mungbean sprouts. These beauties offset the rice and tofu with a lively crunch.

For as long as I have been cooking, I have looked forward to the arrival of spring. The Olympia Farmer’s Market would finally reopen, full of calcium rich greens and not much else. Then in a few weeks the first sign of the forthcoming bounty appeared: bright green spears of asparagus, bundled and stacked high like a Campbell’s soup display at Safeway.

Culinary magazines from Bon Appetite to Martha Stewart, along with national and local newspapers continue to set off yearly national frenzies. Recipes and nostalgic essays dominate April issues and weekly food sections. I can’t help but get caught up in the drama. This isn’t only about cooking. The spring crop marks an end to dreary Pacific Northwest winters, and carries an air of hope and change.

My kitchen promptly went from heavy, starchy, one-pot mains, to light soups, frittatas and cold crudites. By the time the Asparagus season had ended, I was well into a spring fever, so to speak.

To the untrained eye, spring in Korea doesn’t bring much besides monstrous genetically engineered strawberries. No one vegetable carries an emotional weight here like Asparagus. Spring vegetables come in the form of mountain weeds, or namul. Memories of asparagus were like a lost dream- hazy.

Over the last three years I’ve done without, but lucky for us, Seoul’s answer to Dean and Delucca, the Galleria, has begun to stock the most delicate spears of asparagus I’ve come across.

Most chefs prefer pencil thin spears, and I’m no exception. Crisp with fresh flavor, they deserve to stand-alone. Naturally, I was skeptical. Kevin, on the other hand was gung-ho. I could tell that they were, obviously, real asparagus (with the amount of fake or copied goods here I wouldn’t be surprised), but the quality, the flavor, would it be there?

Raw, they gave off a crisp snap, a grassy aroma spritz through the air. I wanted a simple treatment, but a little more than the basic blanch with a dousing of olive oil.

Enter prosciutto.

Asparagus spears with prosciutto and onion. Adapted from epicurious.com

24 thin asparagus spears, trimmed
1 Tbsp. Olive oil
2 slices prosciutto diced
1 small yellow onion, sliced thin
Salt and Pepper to taste

Prepare asparagus to your preference. Personally I’m fond of long spears, but if you are all about convince, slice into 1 inch pieces.

Over medium heat in a large frying pan add the olive oil and prosciutto. Unlike bacon, proscuitto does not emit drippings. You can forgo the olive oil, but I found it helped keep things from sticking.

Give the ham a few quick stirs, then add the onion and asparagus. Stir to coat, then leave the pan alone for a minute to braise-so to speak- the mixture. What you’ll end up with-if your heat isn’t turned up too high- is a satisfying golden crust on the ham, onion, and asparagus.

Give a few shakes of the salt and pepper, toss, and plate. You can eat it hot or at room temperature.

Seoul dwellers have in the last two weeks, jumped straight from winter into summer. Sure there was a small period of time where lighter jackets were donned, mittens and gloves forgone, but one still would need to turn the heater on at night. I guess spring fluttered away with the cherry blossoms. Today’s high in Seoul, 81. Soon the monsoon will begin, and desperately muggy nights will fight with my will to sleep.

This brings me to a culinary point; it’s time for summer salads. Not the kind tossed up with greens galore, but protein based, parsley flicked, meal in a bowl business. The first of the season? A quinoa tabbouleh.

I have always been a sucker for tabbouleh, but unless someone has been hoarding all the cracked wheat, I just can’t find it here. It isn’t like quinoa is available either (we have it shipped over from home). I guess if you were pressed you could use short grain brown rice, or even black lentils. Be sure to cook whatever grain al dente.

No matter how I try I cannot resist tossing in something extra, taking the dish from tabbouleh to something else entirely. Tonight’s pick, cubes of tart feta. Next time, maybe some garbanzo or broad beans.

If you have time (or if you can resist tearing through the bowl), letting the salad marinate overnight, imparts a lemony flavor into every last inch of the salad. Delightful.

(Sadly, our digital camera pooped out in India, who can blame it really. That country is exhausting. I’m left to document meals with film, meaning you’ll have to wait for a photo)

Quinoa Tabbouleh

2 cups quinoa, thoroughly rinsed.
32 cherry tomatoes, diced (if you have access to Roma tomatoes, by all means, use 4)
1 1/2 cups flat leaf parsley, chopped
4 Green onions, white and light green parts thinly sliced
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground pepper
Salt

Cook quinoa in 2 cups of water in a pot (bring quinoa and water to a boil, reduce heat, cover and simmer 30 minutes) or a rice cooker.

Spread cooked quinoa out on a plate to cool

In a large bowl mix tomatoes, parsley, lemon juice, olive oil, pepper, and salt. Mix in quinoa and season to taste.