Brief Syzygy

Back in London

2010-06-30T09:53:00.004-04:00

Sometimes it's like this: you wake up thinking it's three thirty in the afternoon and you've missed a whole day of work and an important two thirty meeting for a flat viewing you've been waiting for all week. You look again and it's really five thirty in the morning, not fifteen thirty, and because it's summer, the window's been open all night and the light's already bright and really it's a Saturday, and so the day opens up like summer vacations used to, the end seemingly stretching far and away.
Or maybe it's like this: rocket, tomato, brie. Breakfast of leftovers. Sainsbury pakoras. Cut the pakora containers in half for two little crumb plates. Mix last night's couscous salad with boiled chickpeas and chopped spinach. Water in pint glasses. No matter if your toes peek into photos & there's hair on the floor.
It is also: a song.
Another: evenings. Sipping lime cordial and soda water on the sunchairs in the backyard, a threnody of train and bird. Long walks through the neighborhood: Brockley, Nunhead, Dulwich, Peckham Rye, Camberwell, East Dulwich and back. By ten, a full crusty moon looming thirty degrees off the horizon. Conversations & foolishness & falling asleep reading.

scallion oil

2010-05-28T13:55:00.007-04:00

I may have had an excess of scallions one day, I may have been at a loss for what to do with them, and I may have, in fact, been a little bit lazy on an early summer day. Just a few ingredients, but they certainly conjure up the feeling of backyard barbecues, sun-induced lethargy, and crisp refreshments.

Cold frying in oil is a particularly satisfying way to extract the flavor out of scallions. It's common in Asian cuisine: a bright sizzle as hot oil hits the greenery and out comes all those delicious flavonoids.

A simple summer pasta salad: whole wheat shells, room temp scallion oil, shot of lime juice, bit of mayo, cherry tomatoes, fresh scallions, salt, and cracked black pepper.

dessert pocket

2010-05-25T18:50:00.007-04:00

"The dessert menu?" should rarely be refused. A girl I once worked with, Jessica, was one of those people who always asked for the dessert menu, even when we were all rotundly full, belching up beer carbonation and spices. She said you can always find room, many rooms. I rarely indulge in the way she preaches, preferring to stay on this side of comfortably full, but on occasion, the sweet tooth strikes.

I took my friend out on her birthday to Tupelo, a fantastic Southern, Cajun-inspired restaurant somewhere east of Inman square. Fried grits, catfish, butter, gumbo, and collards later, we were faced with that daunting question. I was filled to the seams, but birthdays warrant unrestrained indulgences. We split a slice of red velvet cake. It wouldn't have been so bad had we stopped at this point, but at home waiting was a dozen cupcakes, yellow with chocolate buttercream frosting, made per request. That perhaps pushed us over the limit, overflowing the dessert pocket, making a mess of our tummies.

Easiest Chocolate Buttercream

1 scant stick butter, softened

1 scant cup confectioner's sugar

5 Tbsp cocoa

1 splash of cream/milk

Combine butter and sugar, beat till fluffy. Add cocoa and cream, incorporate.

fiddleheads

2010-05-19T09:46:00.017-04:00

A few years ago, I remember sitting in some loft, listening to an altered jazz piece, trying to grasp this bizarre sound uttered by the trumpet player. It was all bendy and all over the place, reminiscent of plucked strings. When I finally found the words, I explained it as the sound that fiddlehead ferns would make, if they could.

That particular sound and particular instant prescribed the positive feelings I associate with fiddleheads. So when my roomie made a buttery, garlicky pan of fiddlehead ferns late last week, the desire to crunch my way through my very own batch carried over to my next grocery trip. I saw them all glistening and green and fresh, in a tray at Harvest, and fell all over myself getting to them.

---

Sautéed Fiddleheads

a few ounces of fiddlehead ferns

butter
olive oil

garlic (1 clove)

salt and pepper

1. Clean the ferns: trim the brown ends, remove the chaff, rinse off the grit.

2. I like to parboil mine briefly, for 1-2 minutes, I think it helps with even cooking.

3. Sauté fiddleheads and chopped garlic in olive oil on medium heat. Cover while cooking for ~3-5 minutes.

4. Salt, pepper to taste. Finish with a pat of butter.

*Note: eating too many fiddleheads will make you sick (nauseous, dizzy, and the like) due to certain substances in the ferns. Cooking fully and eating sparingly will decrease the likelihood of toxicity.

from the deep bowels of my hard drive, i come bearing...

2010-05-02T18:02:00.005-04:00

...rediscovered meals from February:

before: a fillet of salmon + equal parts salt & sugar + fresh ground black pepper

after: lox + rye bread + fruits + tomato

before: wonton wrappers + butternut squash puree + salt + nutmeg

after: ravioli + arugula + pumpkin seeds

s e o h y u n g

green

2010-04-26T14:19:00.006-04:00

last thursday:

outside

inside

(blend: silken tofu, ginger, celery, broccoli stalks, beet greens, kiwi, & cilantro)

the funny

2010-03-25T09:17:00.008-04:00

There's nothing a good bowl of guacamole won't fix...except the important stuff.

A perfect day for a picnic, or a beach date, or frisbee in the park, the last in a string of blessedly warm spring, pre-summer days, leading up to the equinox, convincingly tying up the end of a winter that is just about ready to disappear. And of all places to pick, we wound up in a friend's backyard in Cambridge: a grey, rocky patch of sunless ground conveniently located behind the whale of dumpsters, with just a craggy, body-width crack in which escape was possible. I jest, a bit. The fascination of a Hibachi grill and vegetables kept me sated.

I suppose I am fairly proud that the guacamole I whipped up disappeared within minutes. But avocados are easy sellers. We scramble to get in line for the stuff, so fatty and healthy and delicious, and just enough green to convince you it's a vegetable.

cake with jam: some kind of past-time

The rest of the night was spent gazing at stars while perched uncomfortably on a mesh-iron, overlapping, leaf-shaped structure in the playground by Harvard square. Some vague pedophilic feeling briefly took over when all the mothers and kids promptly ditched the jungle gym shortly after our hulking, vitality-filled arrival. But really, we just needed a place to sit and jest about our friends arguing in whispers on the other side of the park, as if body language, intense stares, and bad looks on faces weren't enough to betray their foul mood. Why do we argue about the silliest things sometimes, deception and ownership and pettiness? I suppose I can't really judge the silliness of any of those things. I'm busy stuffing my face with guacamole and trying not to die shimmying down this all-too-precarious structure...lol

one wet weekend

2010-03-15T10:11:00.008-04:00

shrimps searing in lime juice

Behold! Two young children thrashing in the neighbor's backyard, while the flooding has obscured all but a few inches of an expansive concrete block from view. Exasperated parental unit onlooking, thinking about wet clothes and wet socks and wind-torn umbrellas. When did she lose her youthful fascination with splashing puddles and matted down hair?

I was perfectly fine where I was, acting as an observer to this casual, soaked, grey spring day. A friend's bent umbrella blocked my slim hallway, dripping into the carpet and into the air. Navy blue wellingtons, rain coat, miscellaneous water proof gear, as if she had planned to do battle against the elements. I am glad she was the one who had to make this particular effort.

corn meal

What better accompaniment to the rain than to turn into a complete homebody, complete with shaggy sweater and an adulterated idea of rustic food. I had woken up early in the morning with a particular task in mind. I wanted to make polenta, the solid kind, that could be cut up and shaped and fried up to a delicious crisp. There was cornmeal in my cupboard from weeks ago, waiting for determination to catch up to idea. I cooked it up thick and creamy, and with some genius, I added the remainder of a cup of ricotta cheese to loosen and smoothen the texture (no milk in the house, you see). Potential disaster averted. I cut up and pan-fried the pieces, after about an hour of cooling and congealing, serving them up with sautéed cauliflower and shrimps. The rich nuttiness of the polenta and crisp flavor of lime and pepper shrimp more than made up for the hideous lack of greens in my apartment.

Creamy structured polenta

3/4 cup coarse cornmeal

2 cups water

2 Tbsp olive oil

1/3 cup ricotta

salt & pepper

1. Bring water to a boil. Add olive oil and salt (like you would pasta water).

2. Stream in corn meal while stirring. Turn down heat to prevent polenta from exploding everywhere. I find a lid very useful.

3. Stir continuously to prevent scalding and break up chunks. Cook for a few minutes until consistency is smooth.

4. Stir in ricotta cheese until the mixture is creamy and homogeneous.

5. Spread into 8-9 inch round/square pan.

6. Cool 1-2 hours. Slice into squares/whatever shape you'd like. Pan-fry in a bit of olive oil till golden and crisp around the edges. Salt and pepper as you'd like.

tart and tangy

2010-03-09T09:30:00.000-05:00

apricot chutney and morbier on toast

Whoever claims that the paths of friendship run straight and smooth obviously has no idea. How could it? We all have our own obscurities and oddities, biases and beliefs, which often color not only our perceptions, but our temper as well.

A brisk weekend, filled to the brim with poor communication and bad timing and rampant selfishness -- frustrating and comical in retrospect. I sit and eat my piece of toast and laugh quietly to myself about it.

toasted hazelnuts and candied blood oranges

With that, a quick and easy apricot chutney, three ingredients, four if you count water. Makes either a great sauce, thinned out, over a nutty tofu and rice scramble (lamb roast if you're non-veg), or a good spread on freshly buttered toast. The tang of apricot jam, the warmth of ginger, and the surprisingly refreshing crunch of whole mustard seeds: three boldly flavored components which, unlike people, harmoniously co-exist all the time.

Easy Apricot Chutney

1/2 cup apricot preserves

1 Tbsp seedy brown mustard

1 tsp grated/finely chopped fresh ginger

water

Combine preserves, mustard, and ginger in a pot and bring to a simmer. Add a few teaspoons of water to thin out the texture. Simmer until chutney thickens (~5 minutes). Adjust water content to suit your tastes.

whatever it looks like

2010-03-03T20:58:00.010-05:00

congee

gosh, i can't even quite remember when these photos were taken, but just the fact that i can't speaks to how long it's been since i've picked up my camera, and more so, since i've had the time to photograph food. i suppose it's not really time as much as good lighting, or good fresh seasonal food, or the desire to sit down and write about it. well, daylight savings time begins in two weeks, and spring officially starts a week after that, so it's time to unveil myself from this tragedy of a winter then. not tragic, just lethargic, filled with the promise of too little and the actuality of too much. vague, yes, but now that i've settled into some bright ideas for the future, all of that humor and ease and desire to take pretty pictures is back.

bountiful

there was no recipe to this particular morning; i was awoken by the sharp twang of rocks on my window and giggling. my beautiful friends flipped me from my dreams so i could enjoy the soft saturday morning light, which is about the only perfect light in my kitchen. whole, fresh fruits from harvest, accompanied by a myriad of flavor enhancers: nut butters (almond, peanut, and tahini), raspberry and apricot jams, cracked peppercorns, pink sea salt, honey, and fresh herb cheese spread, in any and all combinations. apples, oranges, bananas, grapefruit, radishes, sourdough, soft-boiled eggs, hazelnuts (albeit burnt), cut up and used as plates. there was little cooking done here, rather replaced by a whole lot of sampling. the only bit of stove-top work was a quick congee i dashed off with some white rice, millet, yams, and scallion: fresh, light, mildly spicy, and pleasantly flavorful.

my beautiful friends

the rest of the sunlight was not wasted of course.

sometimes

2010-02-17T18:24:00.004-05:00

Sometimes when I'm tired and hungry and evening class starts in half hour, I microwave a block of tofu after stabbing it with the spoon a few times. I eat it with kimchi and stare at the walls. I have red walls. Then I feel good and blog about it.

back to school

2010-02-12T15:06:00.005-05:00

February's proving to be bone-chilling. The kind of cold that gives headaches and puts its slinky arms around the ribs as I wait for the bus. And wait for buses, I have. The #1 bus that goes up and down Mass. Ave., 69 down Cambridge St., or silver line to the harbor. Someone said to me that buses in this town are a bit like delinquent boyfriends--never there when you need them, and showing up in droves when you don't. Number one then is the heartbreaker. I mean, who doesn't take the number one? It's the main artery of the town, up and down across the river, on the thickest street on the map. Hardly ever on time, but you wait for it anyways because you've waited too long to give up now. When it finally shows up, it's packed to the gills, and sometimes the driver doesn't even stop. The nerves! And the people you see on the bus. What a riot.
When waiting for buses gets too cold, the next best thing is to walk. Walk with shoulders drawn down the back because hunching gets to you. Like the cold getting to you. Better to shake it off than lug it around. Walk with head held high, on the sunny side of the street. And I think, there's nothing else but to be selfish like this, selfish enough to want this bright morning for oneself. To watch the trees shake off the night, the Mr. "hello gorgeous" smoking by the 7/11 at central, kids getting to school. Minding the puddle of last night's puke doesn't feel so taxing in the morning. I think, there's no reason for haste, when there's so much to see, so much to learn in these streets. I think, I'll walk the world in search of life; foot by foot I'll learn this earth. I'll walk to the end and back and let the sternum be pulled forward by an invisible light.
February's hard to eat well. Produce is expensive & it's about time to be tired of roasted squash and root vegetables. I'm going back to eating a lot of raw things. Beets, carrots, sometimes even thinly sliced parsnips. Apples from last fall. Citrus from the last of the season. Shredded purple cabbage is my favorite at the moment. The crunch sounds like stepping on snow. The picture above is quinoa cooked with cubed squash, in a salad with shredded purple cabbage, chopped scallion, walnuts, and a few pieces of kimchi. It's not a lunch that shouts down the cold, but eating by a window looking out southwest over the fresh snow droppings does the job.

s e o h y u n g

indulgence

2010-01-11T11:40:00.004-05:00

Being back at MIT has been reminding me of the end of last semester, and in particular, a dinner I made for eight freshmen advisees while really I should have been writing a paper or another. But it was finals' week, and I had promised them, and I wanted to chop and stir and dirty pots more than I wanted to compose thoughts on a page. Writing has its own irreplaceable rewards, but not in a void--those rewards, for me, are in competition with others'. Besides, why not move with desire rather than a sense of duty? So I put together a menu (and I quote):

"tomatoes & chickpea sprouts tossed in a vinaigrette
pumpkinseed toast with rosemary and olive oil
salad of roasted beets, various citrus & field greens
brown rice & ginger soup with root vegetables
...and almost-vegan chocolate mousse!"

The recipe I'm sharing today is for the mousse. Two ingredients: water and chocolate. What can I say but that science saves the day. Mousse is basically an emulsion, a mixture of two liquids that can't be dissolved in each other (like water and fat, which is what chocolate is mostly). Using water instead of milk or cream or eggs, makes the chocolate taste loud and clear. I used a 85% cacao, but I imagine 60% would do just fine. A word on melting chocolate: instead of a double-boil, I just put a bowl of chocolate near the radiator earlier in the day. Just another shortcut.

I know we're all supposed to be eating healthier for the new year. But what's the worth of a resolution kept unless there are temptations to be resisted along the way?

Ingredients:
water
chocolate (preferably a good one, with high chocolate content)

Directions:
Melt the chocolate & add equal volume of water. After mixing them so that there's no visible separation between water and chocolate, let it chill in the refrigerator for half an hour. When it's cool to touch, whip the mixture with a whisk (I suppose if you have an electric one, it might speed up the process). It's important to whip really fast--I put the whisk between by two palms and rubbed the palms as though I were trying to make fire with a stick. You'll know it's done when the mixture gains stiffness. Keep in the refrigerator until serving.

When shit hits the fan...

2009-12-10T19:36:00.003-05:00

...a roasted beet with salt and pepper will do.

DIY sashimi

2009-11-29T01:44:00.004-05:00

I happen to be one of the handful of undergraduates in a fiction workshop with Junot Diaz, and after each class I come away with something that's said either by him or others, ringing in my ears. The other day what I kept thinking about was how he said (and here I paraphrase) he'd felt that there was only one dial to control when he began, but later, more emerged and you too might soon begin to see that your experience of the world has infinitely many dials, oiled knobs patiently waiting to be felt and turned between your thumb and finger like my grandmother feeling for the smoothness of silk. Freudian connotations aside (you know you've read too much about psychoanalysis when everything seems filtered through that dusty, soiled screen), this idea of infinite possibilities, of a world unraveling and unveiling itself under close scrutiny and disciplined reflection and action--and by extension the notion that reflection is action, that beginning to see those dials is to shape one's world just as profoundly as turning them; this idea appealed to me immensely, and not only because the metaphor involves a sense of touch and an imminent contact with this world.

Touch. Etymology relates the word to the Romanian tocà, which means to knock--and there's another sensual image. Touch as a beckoning, an invitation, of a world beyond one's own making and imagination--a reminder that we are beings with bodies, that we feel our way through life simultaneously as we think and act. As I spent these past few weeks mostly reading and writing, with the most familiar touch being the greased keypad of my macbook and the pages of plays and books thumbed and dog-eared, it was with unearned joy--for when is joy not--that I attend to "real life things" such as making food. After hours spent on ethereal thoughts whose output can seem to scarcely exceed several meager pages with black scribblings on them, preparing food which takes significantly less time to perfect and enjoy and can be so easily shared with others is not an unsurprising relief. There's less pressure; if some crazy idea doesn't work out this time, there's always the next (also a good thing to remember when writing). There's also the simple delight of eating well, of taking pleasure in slices of Hamachi melting on the tongue which sensation I don't have a good metaphor for, or a bracing bite of ginger that clears the palate. Most of all though, I just enjoy the process of making food. I derive such easy pleasure from slicing a cool cucumber just out of the fridge, feeling the individual grains of rice as I wash them under the cold tap, rubbing olive oil and rosemary with my fingertips into cubed squashes and beets about to go into the oven, or delicately slicing a morsel of Fluke that's just been fillet'ed. And that's what's good about it; it hardly feels like work, and when the going's good, there's hardly a conscious thought involved even though I am clearly thinking. Or perhaps it's that my hands are thinking. In any case, making food can be an analogy for writing, or doing anything: to enjoy the result, and enjoy even more the process. It yields an easy yes to Nietzsche's test of infinite recurrence.

When I started out cooking, one dial that I had thought untouchable was making sashimi myself. Sashimi was something fancy chefs did, not me with a second-hand knife and a plastic Ikea cutting board. But it turns out that over the years I've picked up some knife skills (with a Z), my second-hand knife was a hidden gem, and my cold hands which can be a bit of a nuisance in the winter, prove themselves helpful in keeping the fillet cool. Still, you don't need all that, just like you don't need an all iron-clad nine-piece cauldron set, a hundred-acre organic farm next door, or a thirty bottle spice rack to make and enjoy good food. What you do need is fresh fish, a sharp knife, and a willingness to try it all. And by fresh fish, I mean sushi-grade. For this endeavor among all others, it is paramount to have good ingredients. I'm lucky to live within biking distance of a super fly fishmonger, New Deal Fish Market; consult your nearest, coolest fish guy, or madam, as it was in my case. The knife I had wasn't as sharp as I had wished, but it was sharp enough to slice up tiny fillets of Hamachi (yellowtail) and Hirame (Fluke). And as for the willingness to try it all, let me just say that not only was it much cheaper to do this myself than to go to a restaurant (a little less than twenty dollars for nearly a pound, which, with rice and soup, was more than enough for three hungry girls), but also much fresher (that is, unless you go to a real sushi place where they kill the fish to order--and even so, the Fluke had just come in as a morning shipment: it was flapping on the ice). As for cutting the sashimi, I freely divulge that I have had no training whatsoever in cutting raw fish; there's surely an art to it I am yet to learn, but for the meantime I pretend and imitate the slices I saw in restaurants. What I'm trying to say is that you can do it too.

So in summary, here are the directives: talk to your fishmonger, get fresh fish, and cut it up, if you wish, on a pillow of long thin radish shavings. You can get a saucer of soy sauce with wasabi paste and another of Korean chili paste (gochujang) diluted with a bit of vinegar and water. Serve with a little bit of miso soup and brown rice. I didn't have pickled ginger, but fresh ginger did the job.
With the bones, you can cook up a pot of fish soup: toss in cubed daikon radish and tofu (possibly also mushroom, onion, garlic?), a spoon of coarsely ground chili powder, put in the bones and the head, bring to a boil, take it off the heat and eat with rice. Chopped spring onion goes really well as garnish because it offers contrast.

Enjoy.

halloween and pan-seared salmon two ways

2009-11-01T22:07:00.009-05:00

meta pumpkin

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. It is rife with traditions steeped in non-tradition. A once-festival for the celebration of the passage between the light summer months and the dark wintry ones ahead has dwindled down to a festival of costume parties, candies, and eight-year-olds roaming the streets dressed as Lady Gaga. Halloween has lost much of its superstition and mysticism in light of our modern ways, but the newly formulaic holiday is nevertheless still attractive and fun. It gives us an entire day to revel in the role of some completely different character, as if playing our own many faces is not enough of a challenge.

guacamole salad with salmon

I played a passable golden snitch this year, with the same non-commitment with which I played a tomato the last, and a rubik's maybe-cube the year before. But the seriousness is escalating. One chance to prove how creative you are, how crafty, how good at acting, and importantly, how hot. Whatever formula we scrape from this day, and whatever way we scramble to fill in the blanks, these answers are our own.

pepper-crusted

timing

And now, two formulas, or recipes, for serving up salmon. I went to the supermarket the other day in search of ingredients for a presentable dinner. Having dinner with a meat-eater is often difficult, but usually much easier when presented with the decadent option of fish. I took home two half pound fillets; I cooked up one for our dinner, and saved the other for later in the week. Both times, I pan-seared the salmon, but the two meals were distinctly different. The latter, more informally, I served with a fresh guacamole salad and wheat crackers. The former, I paired with a wine-enriched, tomato and green chili whole wheat pasta. The meals ended up conjuring up two extremes of emotion: one, hardy, robust, and filling, and the other, light, airy, and crisp.

i shamelessly stole the idea from the internet

---

Pepper-crusted pan-seared salmon

1 salmon fillet (1/2 pound)
1 teaspoon+ pepper
salt
olive oil
lime juice
(optional)

1. Pat fillet dry with paper towel. Sprinkle with salt and coat top side (non-skin side) with pepper. Let sit 5 minutes.

2. Heat olive oil in pan till smoking. Turn down heat to medium-high. Add salmon to pan skin side down. Let sear 3-5 minutes till skin is crispy.

3. Flip fillet. At this point, drizzle in ~1 tsp lime juice (or water) and immediately cover pan with lid. Cook another 3-5 minutes until cooked through. Remove from heat and serve immediately.

---

Wine and chili pasta sauce

1 ripe tomato, diced
2 Tbsp tomato sauce
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 green chili, chopped
red wine
olive oil

Saute garlic and chilis in olive oil. Add tomatoes and tomato sauce, let simmer. Add liberal splash of red wine. At this point, reduce and use, or add in semi-cooked pasta and boil till completion.

---

Guacamole salad

1/2 avocado
a few cherry tomatoes
1/4 yellow bell pepper
onion
lime juice
cinnamon
salt
pepper

Mash up the avocado. (I usually like to use ~1/4 of the small yellow onions to every 1/2 of an avocado.) Add diced onion, bell pepper, and tomato. Add lime juice, salt and pepper to taste. I also like to throw a dash of cinnamon in there for a kick.

how much autumn does one take?

2009-10-26T22:02:00.014-04:00

wet year

The answer is: all of it. One 24-hour, whirlwind trip to Philmont, NY, one hundred bushels plus of organic apples picked, farm fresh food fed and eaten, yet the satisfaction runs on far longer. There I was, perched on a ladder, balancing on my right foot, left arm around the trunk of a trimmed apple tree, right arm fearlessly groping for the ripened fruit that was just barely out of my reach. The air was crisp and fragrant, apples all over the orchard floor, apples all over the trees, apples in sacks, in bags, spilling out of carts and crates.

golden ticket

brisk

What apple-picking experience is this? Not one shared by a great deal of people perhaps. Slinging 40 pounds of apples over one's shoulder, and unloading it not once, but dozens of times? Taking not only a few fruits for eating, but stripping the entire tree, and all its neighbors, of all its bearing, leaving it naked and ready to shed its leaves in the coming frost? All of this fruit being collected, it would go to use, whether to feed their loving buyers, or to have their essence milled into cider, or to be recycled into feed or nutrients for the rest of the farm. What part have I played in all of this?

family dinner

I realized how little I knew, or perhaps cared, about how food makes it to our tables. How many hands it passes through, what labor it receives, what care it sequesters and perhaps gives, and the devastating effects of not only nature, but our society's lack of knowledge and interest in farming.

Really though, I suppose realizations are best discovered whenever. Ultimately, whatever love and care one puts into the land is what one gets back from it.

Heidegger & Zucchini

2009-10-23T15:03:00.005-04:00

Instead of reading Heidegger, I took off for the mountains. With a friend I left Cambridge Tuesday night and headed north, to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. We camped the night in Intervale and climbed Mt. Lafayette the next day.

The weather was clement, albeit windy and foggy, especially towards the summit where I was reminded of my one really wet and cold hike in Wales. Thankfully the clouds held up and the wind wasn't too brutal. There was such thick fog that at the summit where we sat behind a huge boulder and sipped hot chocolate to warm ourselves, the only view available to us was a blank screen of half-translucent, truculent white air. I wouldn't have been surprised if a Frankenstein walked out. In my mind it was more fitting to wrestle with the earth and world (fitting indeed to Heidegger's philosophy) than simply to get my head lost in his obtuse, foggy writing. There are ways of understanding that involve "living it out," along side theoretical ones.

Mildly saner after a day spent outdoors we drove back on I-93, listening to BBC report on Afghani opium and Stewart Brand's interview on ecopragmatism. Back home I thought I could eat a whole vine's worth of cucumbers, especially after a day's diet of chocolate and cheese sandwiches. Not having a single cucumber, let alone a vine, I found instead half a zucchini in the fridge. So it goes. Dinner was zucchini, sliced thinly, tossed with a splash of vinegar, a tear drop of soy sauce, and sesame oil, with two pepperoncini. No heat involved, and a sharp knife helps.

After enjoying the ontological condition of the zucchini [die Zucchini], I meditated on the anxiety of nothing that unveiled itself for itself in the empty bowl. Then I admonished myself for not being in the world, for exhibiting metaphysical nihilism; as a reprieve, I washed the bowl and went to sleep.

a portrait of a thursday night

2009-10-18T21:12:00.007-04:00

I have no pictures for you today. But imagine this. A handful of fennel seeds, dry toasting in a small frying pan. Shaved off peels of orange. The nights are coming on sooner and sooner, but it's too early to turn the radiator on, too soon to give up on the idea of a residual heat wave, of a longer fall. The hardwood floors creak with arid weight, and there's distant mumbling--not recognizable, not concerning us, but quiet talk, only once in a while ruptured by an avalanche of screams and laughter, as befits an undergraduate dormitory. Thursday evening, after a long week of work, some fruitful, some not. A quick trip to the convenience store for the one forgotten item--heavy cream--and soon enough, an oven full of warm heat, fist-sized scones, studded with currants and orange and fennel. Tea on the stove. Wind falls and rattles against misfit windows, heaving a long indrawn breath, and then a sigh, for a season begone. I sit in bed, with my dear friend, our legs under the warm blanket, and our backs against the wall, warm mug of tea in our hands, waiting for the scones to turn golden, but mostly delaying the end of this gentle pleasure, companionship. Talk of family, of parents, of futures and hopes and disappointments and desires. Scones, they were an excuse--but is there any use in telling excuse apart from cause, thread from fabric? Soon enough again will be time of work, of donning armors and venturing forward. These few hours, we carefully let time slip through our fingers and breathe in the rich air.

sunken into fall

2009-10-11T21:16:00.009-04:00

Autumn equates to the harvest, and harvest equates to plenty. Light, cool, fruity foods of summer are quickly replaced by the dense, tuber, and robust elements pouring out of the ground as the leaves change. Tastes and textures adapt to the seasons, and we swallow the richness and put on the insulation in anticipation of the brutal times ahead.

An ode, to the way we fit ourselves into these changes (my personal transition from summer to fall):

yogurt with summer berries and granola

blueberry bread pudding

blue

veggie patty, mixed summer greens, hommus, blue

proof

seven grain, sunflower seeds, dried cranberries, flax

slice of some part of life

tofu scramble w/ new fresno peppers

nutty rice and tofu curry

a variation on mark bittman's quick pizza: tomatoes, avocado, and parmesan

only the most delicious pseudo-frittata in the world

Spurious Flavor Combinations

2009-09-30T18:33:00.005-04:00

tops dipped in sugar

I posted the question first, perhaps unaware at the time that I would feel so obliged to pick up the challenge of such a thing. Why are vanilla and salt not generally used together as a flavor combination? In my mind, I tried distinctly to separate out vanilla and salt and mash them together into a single unit. However, my palate has yet to develop the superb ability to concoct foreign flavor memories out of thin air, and failure ensued. I could not separate vanilla from the concept of sweetness...and however much I eventually tried to after posting myself the challenge, I still ended up making a sweet cookie.

I made a batch of my own tea cookie dough, a dense but moist, crisped-bottom canvas upon which I have doled out many a flavor combination.

1/3 cup room-temperature butter
1/3 cup olive oil
1/4 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp basking soda
1 tsp baking powder
scant white sugar for dipping
makes ~48 cookies?

After creaming the butter, oil, and sugars together to an airy fluff, I beat in the egg. Here I separated the batter into two batches: I went the safe route with the first, adding a large spoonful of poppy seeds, ginger and cardamom; into the other, I added 1 1/2 tsp of salt (possibly more), about a tablespoon of blackstrap molasses, and a wild liquid dash of vanilla extract. I kept doubting myself, wondering whether I was being too safe here. I certainly wanted the result to be edible, but come on, this whole thing was meant to be an experiment!

Next, I added half the dry ingredients to each half-batch, formed the dough into log shapes, wrapped each up in saran wrap, and tossed them in the refrigerator. When baking, I formed these into 3/4 inch diameter balls, dipped the top in some white sugar, and baked them for ~12 minutes in a 325F oven.

ginger/cardomom/poppy seed next to vanilla/molasses/salt

I ended up baking these over the course of several days, tossing in a batch when my cookie tin was running thin. The vanilla ‘salt’ molasses was incredibly pleasant, and may have become one of my preferred crazy palate choices. The poppy/ginger/cardamom became so tame in comparison. Especially when eaten alongside each other, the salinity in the former dances up to the forefront, mingling with the lazy, sultry vanilla, and triumphing over even the robust bitterness of the molasses...

...that was perhaps too epic of a description, but nonetheless, one more successful baking experiment only adds to my happiness and growing sense of food arrogance.

variations on rocket.

2009-09-24T01:12:00.003-04:00

The pictures tell all.
In reverse chronological order:

toasted sourdough sandwich of a slather of hummus, handful of rocket, slices of cucumber.
toasted sourdough + eggplant dip + rocket. slices of raw beet & carrot.
sourdough toast. rocket. sliced yellow bell peppers, prunes, macademia nuts.
rocket. quinoa+brown rice. blueberries, cashews. ground sesame seeds. a sprinkling of soy milk.
sprouted grain tortilla. sliced figs, rocket, and mint.

Last lunches at the British Library

2009-08-25T14:28:00.004-04:00

Sandwich of pita, rocket, tomato, and roasted red peppers from a landlord's leftover.

Dessert--pineapple. A brilliant sky and a heart full of future.

love of my summer

2009-08-18T05:05:00.007-04:00

Meet the love of my summer, summer of my youth:

Rocket. Roquette. Arugula, as it is known in the states. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, though I do like 'rocket,' for the sound, and for the accompanying imagery of a rocket shooting off in my mouth, that peppery tang of sharp spunk. I've been buying small packets of these (usually 80g for a quid) and eating them like crisps (or chips, in Americana). I know it sounds crazy--people here watch with disbelief--but just wait a few years. It might just catch on--start a trend. A revolution!

Another "trend" I wouldn't mind continuing in my life is having a landlord who also runs a restaurant. Look here for what I found one morning in the kitchen:

"Please use them before they go off [sic]"

Oh, use them I will...It's like the reduced section in Sainsbury's, only free as well.
London's finally getting to summer. All this week I could feel it--the warmth of sunlight on my bare arms, the tickle of a sweat drop trickling down my spine, mornings I can wake to without clutching my sheets. Summer, finally.
One of the things summer means for me is salad for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner...The one above has, as you can see: cooked portobella mushrooms, chopped red bell pepper, tofu, and Rock-it. Another salad, one that my friend Ben made for us while I was going a little coocoo with moving:

Beets, carrots, bell pepper, avocado, tomato, nuts, basil...and rocket. Tossed by hand, simply dressed with olive oil & balsamic vinegar.

With what pleasure, what joy one sits down to a home-made salad, and slowly chew each bite, that mouthful of bright flavours and light, summer's gracious gift. Grace, gratuitous, they all come from the same root--gratutus, i.e. free, spontaneous, voluntary. This is "the little that we get for free, the little of our earthly trust," as Elizabeth Bishop writes in a poem about generosity of memory. Perhaps it is too soon to think of fall, of the end of this season, to engage in forward-imagination of backward-looking, though I can easily--too easily?--wonder what one pale misty Cambridge morning in October I might wake up with a pang in my heart for a summer bygone.

Seasons, times, they come and go, and there's no way--perhaps only in writing--we can make this whirling world stand still. And that's good: what is unutterable, let it be uttered, and if it must be, then let it be forgotten, seized and abandoned with equal velocity and might. But while it's here, let me hear it! Let me cradle summer in the palm of my hand, pick it off the shrubs gently to keep it from bursting at the finger tips, or if they burst, let it dye my hands and borough under the nails and fade with bruised brilliance. While it's here, let me walk and wade in warm nights at the park, let me hoard it like strangers' smiles, let me bite into its pink flesh, pink watermelon juices run down the chin and dribble into the crook of the throat. Here's to summer! Doesn't dearness too give all its value?

East St. Market

2009-08-15T07:10:00.004-04:00

I've been diving into other projects, on top of moving recently, and so posting has been slow. Good news is, I might be exhibiting at a school gallery this fall! Stay tuned for that.
I won't write much today, but share some pictures with you from a market I'd go to once in a while, near my old place. Between Walworth and Portland, East St. Market goes up everyday except for Monday. While it's not an organic gourmet farmer's fair (there's Borough market for that), there's some good produce if you keep your eyes peeled--better than Tesco's sometimes, and though that's not a hard standard to bypass, I'm quite grateful for whatever comes my way, especially in the form of beets with their leaves still intact, or three medium sized whole seabream for five quid.
I like to go early in the morning, when the fishmongers have just finished laying out the fish for the day and started shoveling crushed ice over to keep them cool, when there are fewer customers than sellers, when not all the stalls are in, and the cool morning breeze drifts through the wooden beams of the stalls, barren and skeletal before they are adorned with hats, heaped with leather shoes, writhing under the weight of electronics fit for a whole village.

With groceries in hand and a clearer head on my shoulders, I head home thinking about breakfast--grilled fish sprinkled with coarse salt, a salad of apple, beets, and rocket--wondering where in London I might go to read and write for the afternoon. But still there is time--it's only eight in the morning--the day is stretching out in front of me as summer vacations have, getting longer and longer while still traveling at light speed. Time is running and I am running with it. That morning on East St., I made it stop--or rather, I ran fast enough that it seemed to stop alongside me, and we smiled at each other, relativistically. It didn't feel like running at all.

Sprouting Chickpeas

2009-07-28T18:41:00.006-04:00

Lately I'm seesawing between states of absolute productivity and absolute lack of motivation. It's rather manic, really, as if I'm on a sugar high and then on a crash, and on and on, the waves come and go. In any case, when the going is good, I ride unfettered, get stuff done for work, for projects, feeling pretty zoned in and hyper, the hairs on the back of my neck almost bristling with excess energy. When not, I putter about, looking up weird words in the dictionary (today: pugilistic, casuistry, aspersion), walking around and getting lost in London (as usual), flipping through my copy of Norton Anthology of Poetry and getting bored because reading fifteen poems in a row, I find, is not conducive to absorption. In these strange moments of equal parts laziness and ennui, I try to do some errands, and distract myself with low-maintenance projects. Like growing chickpea sprouts.
Being low-maintenance myself, I like cooking projects that are efficient. So it turns out I rarely embark on baking projects on my own (sorry, no cake for you, not from me anyways), because I find them not only materially inefficient (all the different ingredients! flours! butter! eggs! etc etc etc!) but also time-inefficient (takes too long, and too much attention). One might say, "but it takes days to sprout chickpeas!" Very well, it does take days. But the duration of active attention amounts to very little, and I think a chickpea sprouting is just as exhilarating as a cake rising.

It's almost stupendous to give directions, but here they are:
1. Soak the chickpeas overnight.
2. Drain them the next morning, and put them in some sort of webbing. (The red one you see in the picture used to hold satsumas.) Hang this in a dark, cool corner of your kitchen. (I put it in my cupboard.)
3. Twice a day or so, wash them in water, just to keep the chickpea surfaces moist.
4. Repeat Step 3 until they sprout.

Sprouting, of course, one can do with all sorts of legumes, lentils, grains, etc. If I can find a webbing small enough, I'll be sprouting french lentils, quinoa, and brown rice soon. Until then, I'll be popping these chickpeas like candy, as they taste especially sweet and crunchy when they're just sprouting. When I can restrain myself enough to actually have sprouted chickpea on hand, they make their way into my lunch.
Seohyung's British Library Lunch Salad

1/2 cup cooked quinoa
1/2 cup sprouted chickpeas
1/3 cup each of chopped red bell pepper, green apple, avocado (usually half of one does well).
1/4 cup chopped red onion.
some coriander (or cilantro), lime juice, grated ginger, salt, pepper to taste...

Chop, mix, grate some ginger over everything, and try not to devour before the lunch hour.

is it supposed to be this easy?

2009-07-22T19:15:00.004-04:00

Chop, sprinkle, stir. That's all I did.

Perhaps I should explain. I begin at the beginning: It was a cold, rainy evening in London... I'd meant to go on a evening walk around the neighborhood, but when I'd returned home that day from the library around six, the cold was already seeping in to my bones and I was pickling in the stew of blasé. I'm glad the muggy, sauna Boston summer, for which I feel little nostalgia, is a foregone season for me this year, but the evening caught me off-guard. My section of the fridge was nearly empty, save some wine that the previous subletter left behind and a few stalks of Rhubarb I bought on an impulse. So Rhubarb it was.

I'd always imagined that rhubarb would have wispy leaves the size of baby hands like celery does, but it turns out rhubarb leaves are as big as baby blankets, if baby anything. Rhubarb compote, I suppose, does resemble baby food, disturbingly so, but I think one could make a more 'adult' version, as it were, by adding a pod of cardemom or some grated ginger. Or by cutting the sugar, which is what I did, in my recent minimalist bend. (And here is where I say something cheeky, like "but the flavor was maximal" etcetc). A roommate had some butter and sugar, I had rhubarb and knife skillz, the little that it takes to chop up the stalk into half-inch long pieces. I sprinkled a little bit of sugar, then sautéed them in a pan with a few shavings of butter. Done and done. The aforementioned roommate also had some unsweetened plain yogurt. In wine glasses they went, yogurt and compote, layer upon layer, folding and melding into each other. The compote, still hot off the pan, steamed up the glasses, reminding me of winter mornings.

And then we lit the candles, and she fixed us some gin and tonics, and then we had a falafel fiasco...I'll say no more; dessert came first and foremost. If there ever was a quirky turn to the evening, rhubarb delivered it.

Shopping at East street market or T

2009-07-15T09:18:00.006-04:00

Hungry in Tesco
Everything here's on sale
Do you sell souls too?

My Kyrgyzstani
fishmonger says he's lonely
I say I'm married

Thirty brands of cheese.
All ten isles lead to cashiers.
Exit on the right.

Eireann Eating

2009-07-03T14:54:00.006-04:00

I've just returned from traveling in Ireland. I spent a few days in Dublin, and then in Dunquin (or Dun Chaoin, in Gaelic). Traveling and eating well usually don't seem to go together--without a reliable kitchen stocked with the necessary equipment and condiments, with the errant schedule of hunger added to the mix, cooking well in a healthy manner while also traveling seems often impossible...or expensive. Still, I think I can confidently say I ate well, contentedly---
The real challenge was for Dun Chaoin, which is on the far end of Dingle peninsula, on the Western coast of Ireland. Since the nearest anything was at least a ten-minute car ride from the hostel, I carried in as much as possible. A stop at the Tesco before hopping on the train was all it took:

Here's a snapshot of a breakfast I had. A half-sandwich made of hummus, sliced cucumber, Dubliner cheese, and mashed Sardines in tomato sauce. Outside the window was a view of the Bishop island, named so because the island resembled a profile of a dead person, with the arms folded onto the chest. One night the Barrett's invited me over for dinner--Ed was one of my professors last term--and Jenny made a feast--positively a feast--for the three of us.

The first picture is of salad with cucumbers and other chopped vegetables in yogurt sauce, served with salmon. This we had with eggplant parmagiana. Oh, and a soup made with parsnips and apple--a combination I'd never thought of, but grew fonder by the spoonful. Their neighbor, Mary, who was a wonderful conversationalist, joined us after dinner for some tea and chocolate digestives.
Back in Dublin, I was trying to find a way to have a good lunch before heading to the airport--and happened upon a grocery store with a nice salad bar. I loaded up a small carton, and bought a loaf of Irish brown bread (one of the things Gisela got me hooked on, which I am trying and failing to find in London), and plopped myself on the top floor, front seat of a double decker to the airport:

The bus wobbled its way across the Dublin maze while I wondered about the meaning of travel and just what it was that made the carottes rapees so special. How could such a typical salad, such an arbitrary view and way of customs, a way of living that differed from the one I was used to yet just as random and mundane as mine--how could such things delight one so, seen in a new light to a traveler?

While I wondered, I remembered watching the breeze graze across the grass, and the sheep mulling right near the sea. The green juts out into the blue expanse and rectangular stone walls accommodate the jagged coastline. The salty sea breeze---can you smell it too? Fuchsia bristle in the balmy evening light, a coy mistress extending her pared and painted fingernails, welcoming admiration. If travel is a counter to loss and a cost of renewal, I'd gladly take it any day, to remind myself what it feels like to find grace in a lowly gravel, for this might be one of the few protests worth the trouble.

decadance and cake baking

2009-06-27T16:29:00.008-04:00

eyeballing in cooking generally refers to the judgment calls chefs make in measuring the quantity of ingredients added to a dish. although most cooking is done this way (the thought of chopping up onions into a measuring cup bewilders me), it is generally not accepted for baking, given the rather unexpected nature of the result. it means variations will occur every time, so if repeatability is the goal, then eyeballing is not the correct way to go.

for me, baking is a spur of the moment thing, and the act of finding a recipe and purchasing all the necessary ingredients seems such a large detriment in time. instead, i often opt to make cakes and cookies from whatever ingredients i can scrap up in the moment, which ultimately leads to a different dessert every time. true, this is not the way to craft the most intricate and opulent of desserts, but i am able to create something comforting, delicious, and quickly satisfying almost every time.

in order to bake in this manner, understanding of the fundamental purpose and nature of all the ingredients is key. in most cakes, the necessary components are eggs, flour, sugar, a moistener (typically oil), a leavening agent, salt, and flavoring.

eggs act as an emulsifier, cementing all the ingredients and giving a porous structure from which the cake can rise (more eggs give a more doughy feel to the product, less give a fluffier bread-like feel). flour is the base of the cake, and pretty much all varieties can be used (pastry flour is airier and will give a lighter product, whole wheat is heavier and will give a denser product, i have found whole wheat pastry flour to be almost a 100% substitute for all-purpose in cake baking). sugar is the sweetener, and more will yield a denser cake (brown sugar and molasses will also yield a denser product when used in equivalent amounts).

the moistener, as i call it, provide long-term moisture for the cake. this category mainly includes butters, oils, and shortenings, but can also be replaced to some degree by substitutes such as yogurt, sour cream, apple sauce, pureed bananas, and milk. the amount of substitution is usually a judgment call. i find for myself that i will start off with usually half of the butter/oil i would typically use, and add substitute after addition of dry ingredients until the correct consistency is reached. be aware, however, that as more substitute is used, the product consistency tends to be more cake-like and less rich.

the most important part of determining the success or failure of the cake, though, is perhaps the leavening agent. cakes and cookies generally demand chemical leavening agents, but how can we know when to use baking soda or baking powder? the leavening agents work by releasing CO2, which aerates the cake, making it soft and spongy. baking powder is a blend of baking soda and certain acid salts, meaning it contains both reactants for the acid-base reaction which generates CO2. it should be used in a relatively pH neutral batter. when one ventures into the territory of acidic ingredients: yogurt, sour milk, apple sauce etc., baking soda should be used to complete the chemical reaction.

i made chocolate cupcakes using these methods, and whatever ingredients were available to me. soy managed to convince me that i wanted to do this, and ~30 minutes later, a dozen cupcakes flavored with paprika, raspberry jam, and 4oz of pure chocolate were produced. all i needed was a basic knowledge of ingredient ratio and the baking sense to make rather arbitrary judgment calls.

to make this easier, here is perhaps a basic ingredient ratio that will produce an appropriate cake base essentially every time.

to make 12 dozen cupcakes or 1 2-layered round cake:

1/4 cup of butter/oil

1/4 cup of yogurt/apple sauce

1 cup of sugar, or less as appropriate

3 eggs

1 1/2 cup flour (any kind, just make appropriate additions or subtractions to compensate for density)

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla

flavoring (for example: 3-4oz pure chocolate and raspberry jam in the middle; 1 tsp cardamom and 1/2 cup shredded coconut; 1 Tbsp lemon juice, 1 tsp lemon zest and dollop of lemon cream cheese in the middle)

bake at 350F for 18 minutes for cupcakes

just be smart and think about what you're adding when you're adding it.

gangneung

2009-06-12T19:39:00.005-04:00

As I was leaving the wheh (or sashimi) restaurant, I happened to cast a wayward glance at the kitchen. The restaurants lined the beach at Gangneung like a cliff, civilization jutting into the ocean, armed with a united front. They're no seaside shacks; more like factories, they churn and churn out layers upon layers of trimmed raw fish on pillows of shredded daikon. The one I happened to go to had seating on the second floor, and being high up enough, I felt as though we were in a great boat sailing across the east sea to somewhere faraway; a different city, a different country, imagination confronting me with the confused promise of a more exciting life; even the mere notion that life is elsewhere, this 'elsewhere' somehow being exempt from everyday boredom and banality, was intoxicating as it was uncomfortably indulgent.
The kitchen floor, tiled with the same white squares one sees in public restrooms, was swept with glistening brine and sweat. The man--not the chef, probably a kitchen hand--might have been at his hundredth flounder of the day, and for that reason, stroke it perhaps vengefully, thinking of his aching shoulder, and his pregnant wife at home, and his girl, about to turn four in a few weeks. Carefully not to get angry--it might raise the temperature of his hands, which will make them shake--perhaps he wondered what he can take home tonight, and when his next cigarette break would be, just when he could get out of the heavy blue rubber apron and squeaky rubber slippers. His hands were wrinkled, his finger tips like plump raisins, innards under his nails. Did he drink under the table, to make it bearable? Did he dream of opening a restaurant of his own, perhaps of naming it after his daughter? The shift won't be over until ten, when the last of the last tourists have finally finished, after rounds and rounds of soju and sea urchins, after slurping up the last drop of the garlicky soup made with bones leftover, after picking apart even the most miniscule modicum of flesh off the fish head, the blubbery fins. Until he's on his bicycle, until he can feel the salty sea spray sweep his hair as he whistled his way home, he gripped his knife, and with a glinting blade, shaved life away, one fleshy stroke at a time.

bibimbap lunch

2009-05-28T07:27:00.007-04:00

I've been having lunch quite frequently with my dad, as a result of my daily routine. I wake up around six to write and practice yoga before breakfast. Then, on his way to work, my dad drops me off at the foot of a mountain, across which is his office. I walk along the pine-needle laden hiking trails, with the company of older men and women. The women are usually wearing vinyl training suits, and are covered head to toe, with gloves scarves and hats, in thirty degree weather, and when they pass me (usually one per minute), I hear their vigorous arm movements make a swooshing sound, as if they're on a march. It prods the romanticist part of me that likes to think I can "conserve the magnitude of uselessness" while history flows past me, endlessly regardless, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. Anyway, I make my way to dad's office, where I read and write some more before taking lunch with him.

Lunch is a simpler fare than breakfast; within a day's lunch, there's usually little diversity, but from day to day, there's greater difference amongst them than a breakfast allows. On this day, we went to a place that specializes in bibimbap. Actually, this is no ordinary bibimbap but sanchae bibimbap, which means there's more dressed vegetables (or namul) and they're usually more fresh and interesting (san--mountain, chae--vegetable). This place also included cashew in the mix, which I've never seen elsewhere, and one of their kimchi's has cooked wheat in it, which I've also never seen, though I know my paternal grandmother sometimes makes kimchi with raw fish or fish roe in it. They served all this with a doenjang jiggae, and a heaping plate of leafy vegetables to wrap everything with. I wish Cambridge had a place like this! I'd go there every week. Well, maybe provided that they change their vegetables with the season...

homemade bread

2009-05-27T20:49:00.001-04:00

i spent the weekend at alpine lake, west virginia, an unassuming, often unexciting, but beautifully undisturbed, natural, and peaceful place. the house i stayed in was surround by woods on all sides, reachable only by a dirt trail the width of a small minivan. i walked through the woods quite a bit, got rained on, swam in the still chilly lake, and caught an insane amount of smallmouth bass, all without acquiring a single mosquito bite. the days were quiet, and we were so far buried in the appalachian that more than ten stars were visible in the night sky. i don't think i've seen stars quite like that since elkhart, texas a few summers ago.

in preparation for this rural journey, i baked quite a bit of bread. i think between all the loaves i used more than two pounds of flour. i like baking bread in late spring or summer, when the humidity and heat is just rearing up. it's the perfect condition, the dough gets sweaty and i get sweaty. yeast works its magic without any coddling at all; everything's mostly failsafe. i made a loaf of dense, sweet white bread, a loaf of crunchy rye, and the one pictured above: a sweet and salty white milk bread with sweet red bean paste for filling. i took this recipe for french herb bread and modified it rather significantly.

Filled Bread

1 Tbsp yeast
2 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
3 3/4 cups flour
1 cup milk
1 Tbsp vinegar
1/4 cup water
1 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
sweet red bean paste (or whatever filling you desire)

1. proof the yeast: mix sugar and warm water (around 45C/110F) until incorporated. add dry yeast and mix. after several minutes, the yeast should have formed a foamy coat on top, indicating that it is alive. if no foamy coat results, discard mixture and find alternate yeast.

2. in sauce pan, heat milk, butter, and oil until 45C/110F. add salt and vinegar. add to yeast mix.

3. add 1 1/2 cups flour and incorporate till moistened. mix for 3 minutes until smooth. add rest of flour and knead until dough is smooth and well incorporated. let rise in greased bowl covered by saran wrap for approximately 1 hour, or until the dough doubles in size (do not over-rise!).

4. punch dough into 16"x8" rectangle about 1/2 inch thick. spread filling over the dough and roll the dough up longways (along the 16" side) like a swiss roll. let rise seam-side down on baking sheet.

5. bake for 20-30 minutes in a 400F oven.

who can say no?

2009-05-26T20:42:00.000-04:00

...admittedly I haven't been cooking much lately. yellow corvina, some kimchi, anchovies, and jjiggae made of ground soybeans (or okara). the rewards of a morning hike.

breakfast of champions

2009-05-23T19:13:00.000-04:00

what awaited me after morning yoga: multigrain rice, egg, salad, five kimchi's, spinach, seaweed, and fish head soup with tofu... life is good, eh?

under the sea

2009-05-20T17:46:00.002-04:00

Last Saturday morning I happened to find myself in East Cambridge. Streets were being swept; shops were just getting ready to open; fishmongers were mopping their floors, and in a bakery, an elder Portuguese woman was placing eclairs in a neat row, displaying their goods in the fluorescent show case. There was an edge to the morning air--the wind was strong, and I felt unhinged, as if I could float off the street, clutching a forget-me-not in my clasp...I felt that I was returning home from a long trip. I thought of Clarissa, "Life; London; this moment of June."
There was already a line at the New Deal when I got there. The Japanese couple in front of me picked up at least several pounds of sushi grade, for a lunch party, they said. On ice in the display case were salmon, swordfish, and tuna of course, this being America, but there was also whole seabass, mackerel, orata, trout, snappers, crabs and lobsters and oysters, all briny and glistening in the morning light. I picked up a seabass, had it scaled and fins removed, brought it home for lunch...
I wanted to steam the fish but didn't want to bother with a contraption, so put it in the oven en papillote, i.e. in a steam pouch made of not parchment as one usually does, but foil. I sprinkled salt on both sides of the fish, and in the cavity, made a neat pouch to keep in the steam, and in it went at 400 F.
A bowl of gemelli tossed with pesto, to accompany the main course.
Don't you see it's easy to please? All I had to do was come home with a fish, and she's all smiles.
When eating fish, one must sit like a mermaid.
We sat on the balcony outside the kitchen, and watched the volleyball players. One team was much better than the other, and proceeded to destroy the latter. We, having a vantage point on the balcony, destroyed the fish instead, picked the bones clean, even the small muscles on the head, the skin, the tiny strands of muscles on the tail.

It's amazing how two much hungry college girls can eat.

the most constructed chocolate cake i have ever made and will likely ever make

2009-05-17T14:20:00.000-04:00

chocolate raspberry cake w/ cream cheese frosting

The process started because some lady walked by Soy and I on the street with a plastic container holding some chocolate frosted monstrosity. I was immediately tempted, and the envisioned product drove my industrious process for the rest of the night. Soy, in a rather intoxicated state, enlisted Jongjin's help, which gave us access to the final vital ingredient for the cake: chocolate. Something about the combination of hyperactivity and ocd-leaning behavior yielded this fully frosted and rigged chocolate cake. This was perhaps the most time I have ever spent on one cooking endeavor.

first coat

Our ingredients were rather limited, which prevented the making of most of the fancier chocolate cake recipes flooding the web. I ended up picking this one from allrecipes, making only a few minor adjustments. Butter was used instead of margarine, semisweet chocolate chips were substituted for unsweetened with a 1/2 cup reduction in sugar, and the sour milk was homemade (milk plus vinegar). Two 8 inch rounds sandwiched a thick layer of raspberry jam, and the entirety was covered in homemade cream cheese frosting (1 package cream cheese, 1 stick butter, 1 cup sugar).

jongjin industrially frosting while soy drools on her art history notes

The task of frosting was delegated to Jongjin, who provided the lazy susan, spatula, and steady hand. The entire process was a test of patience: waiting for the melted chocolate to cool, waiting for the cake rounds to cool, waiting for the first layer of frosting to set etc. But the image of a perfectly frosted, flat-top cake drove us, or at least me, forward.

slice #1

Twelve hours of anticipation yielded a rather beautiful finished product. I guess ultimately, Seohyung made this happen, dragging Jongjin out in the middle of the night, providing amusement etc. No offending specks of cake in the frosting for me please.

Emotional Food

2009-05-12T23:50:00.000-04:00

We keep journals to save our most affective thoughts, the ones that steep out of the most emotional moments of our lives. Food and journal entries are not typically comparable, but in this case -- perhaps because this past month has been rather colorful -- I can recall from these images the exact condition I was in at the time I had these meals...maybe I'm just giving myself too much credit.

A wrap I made for dinner (thus atypically hardy), containing pesto, cottage cheese, and a saute of diced eggplant, yams, and sweet caramelized onion.

The day my wallet was returned to me (since I so carelessly allowed it to be stolen), I used the rest of that eggplant in a simple stir-fry with mango and green curry. This I ate with a brown rice, quinoa blend and some pesto right on top.

This meal was as delicious as it appears unappetizing in this photograph. A full three-course seafood venture after a satisfying hike in the Blue Hills Reservation with Seohyung earlier in the day. We picked up a sea bass and mackerel, which we proceeded to demolished along with some easy pesto and cherry tomato pasta. First course was sashimi made from the bass. Next was seared mackerel with a dash of salt and pepper. Last, a clear soup was produced from the head and scraps of the bass. I guess this is what decadence means to us.

five minute lunch...

2009-05-06T22:48:00.000-04:00

...Or however long it takes for noodles to cook. Cook the noodles, and crack an egg in the last minute. Drain carefully, toss with chopped asparagus and tsuyu. When the brain's infested with abstraction, here's something solid to anchor the swirling world. No thesis, antithesis, synthesis. No spectacle, simulacra, episteme. The asparagus is cold and crunchy. The soba noodles are chewy yet they yield to a toothsome bite. The egg is luxurious. And the broth, cold, salty, and unami. Moments of quiet satisfaction, chirping birds, chatter, sunlight. They are not metaphors of anything else, symbols of some greater narrative I'm unwillingly part of. They exist. Five minutes of bodily delight.

massive backlog #1

2009-05-05T15:10:00.000-04:00

Oat flour noodles with a black bean peanut sauce, served with cucumber, red bell pepper, scallion, thai basil, and pan-fried tempeh. Served chilled, as summer warrants.

Easy lunch of sauteed eggplant, zucchini and baby bok choy flavored with rosemary and a dash of soy sauce, made whole with a fried egg on the side.

Soy whipped up a easy spaghetti dish with dark and hearty kale leaves, diced up plum tomato, and olive oil...

...which was served up with this tofu saute, dressed with a sweet, mild red chili sauce and ground up fresh basil.

Another night, another combined dinner effort. On the left, lightly poached broccoli topped with sauteed yam strips and crushed cashew nuts. On the right, Soy's modified grape leaf kimchi fried rice with dark kale and green peas.

Breakfast I made for Perry and I before we went climbing at Quincy Quarries. French toast topped with fresh blackberry sauce, fried egg, and a simple spring salad of cucumber, yellow bell pepper, baby carrots, and cherry tomatoes.

Red quinoa, brown rice, mung bean, and millet scramble with sliced eggplant, yellow bell pepper, halved cherry tomatoes, pine nuts, and generous amount of scallion.

Chive, shrimp, and egg dumplings served up with soy sauce, vinegar, scallion, and olive oil. Dumpling making is rather distinct from person to person...

Now I can stop trying to play catch up. Or maybe, this just means I am about about to begin a whole new cycle...

-Lucy

breakfast

2009-05-01T12:18:00.001-04:00

leftover pakoras and slices of cucumber.

silly little trick

2009-04-29T21:35:00.000-04:00

Here's another meal, conjured from scraps. I made this meal on the last day I was in Arizona for a spring break community service trip. Half-cap of portabella mushroom, some chickpeas, a stalk of scallion, some tomato paste, and half an onion. Oh, and at least half a tub of hummus. I sauteed the onions and chickpeas together, into which went a dollop of tomato paste, and hummus. It's a silly little trick, to thicken the sauce--a spoonful of hummus. Then portabella mushroom, topped with fresh scallion. No waste! I ate this thick soupy mess, heaped on a plate of quinoa. I wouldn't have minded a beer to wash it all down with, but alas, we were staying at a church. Oops.

return to something familiar

2009-04-16T23:30:00.000-04:00

oven roasted vegetables

Honestly, it has been so long that I hardly remember what blogging means. Neglect, schoolwork, graduation, it's taxing on the physical and mental body. Sometimes, the importance of home cooking and nutrition gets lost a bit in the melee, which in itself adds to the entire downward spiral.

Seohyung was really sick this day, that much I remember, and I also recall the desire to ease some of her suffering through food. Usually, sickness and hunger are horrible roommates; the appetite is often the first thing lost when one falls ill. I recall the things that my mother made me when I was in such a state: noodle soup, ramen, egg congee, hot soy milk. Clearly, soup is key.

millet congee

A hearty millet congee with lentils (for protein), diced baby carrots, kale leaves, cilantro, and a poached egg on top seemed to cover all the bases. For an additional dose of vegetables, I roasted some eggplant, red bell pepper, and onions in the oven. Everything was intensely savory, for the same reason I always craved the slightly artificial richness of store-bought ramen flavor packets, because illness takes away my sense of taste. Comfort conjures up different images and tastes for everyone, and this was just a little attempt to portray my personal definition.

--

Millet Congee

1 cup millet
1/2 cup lentils
1/2 cup baby carrots, diced
kale leaves
cilantro, chopped
egg
salt & pepper to taste

1. Boil ~5-7 cups of water. Add millet and lentils.
2. Add a dash of olive oil. Cook covered until 2/3 done (~15 minutes). Add more water if necessary.
3. Add baby carrots, salt and pepper to taste.
4. When lentils and millet are almost done, crack egg right on top.
5. After 1-2 minutes, turn off heat, add kale and cilantro. Cover pot and let sit ~5 minutes. Congee should have the consistency of thin oatmeal. Decrease amount of water if thicker texture is desired.

--

Roasted Vegetables

1 eggplant
1 red bell pepper
1 onion
salt, pepper, rosemary, olive oil

1. Cut vegetables into strips, lay out on baking tray lined with aluminum foil.
2. Drizzle some olive oil. Add salt, pepper, and rosemary to taste. Toss to mix.
3. Bake at 400F uncovered for 20-30 minutes until vegetables are cooked.

More noodles!

2009-03-11T17:24:00.000-04:00

Here's to cooking with scraps in the fridge. It's Tuesday night, and I haven't been to the grocery store in a while. I had little each of crimini mushrooms, kalamata olives, and some red kale. In they went with some tomato paste and gochujang (a Korean chili paste), tossed around with boiled soba noodles. It was so good that I made it again the next night, with harissa instead of gochujang, and campanelle instead of soba; I made enough for breakfast the next morning, actually.

Recipe: Pasta with Kale, Olives, Mushrooms

1/4 pound of pasta*

several cloves of garlic
a glug of olive oil
2 tablespoons of gochujang, harissa, or any smooth spicy chili paste of your choice
2 tablespoons of tomato paste
1 bunch of kale
a handful of crimini mushrooms
several olives (I used kalamata)
zest of a lime

Boil well-salted water, and cook the pasta al dente.
Meanwhile, chop the garlic into small slices, and the olives and mushrooms into bite-size pieces. Cut the kale into strips, with the knife perpendicular to the stem (N.B. I usually don't remove the stem, but I've seen others do so).
Put a glug of olive oil in a skillet, and before firing up, place the garlic in the puddle of oil, so that the garlic doesn't burn before infusing the oil. When the garlic has softened, add the mushrooms and olives. Once they've been sauteed, add a little bit of the pasta water to the skillet, along with the chili paste and the tomato paste. Let the paste get loosened up and incorporated. Keep cooking the sauce, but let it reduce a little. Add the drained pasta and chopped kale to the sauce, toss it around, and serve with lime sprinkled over.

Noodle Bowls

2009-03-01T19:05:00.000-05:00

soba with some broth, thin slices of onion and celery, seaweed, and an egg.

I've been crazy about noodles since I was a wee little kid with a jajiangmyun obsession. I still occasionally get cravings for slurping up strands of boiled flour (strange to think about them so); so intense are they, that I have to satisfy them pretty quickly and sufficiently. I try to manage the whole operation within a single pot; I add vegetables (bok choy? mushroom? seaweed? celery? anything goes, really) to up the fiber content. An egg poached with the noodles, or in the broth, for some protein.

soba with broth, bok choy and an egg.

I wish I could tell you I make my own broth...but the broth used in the first two pictures I bought from a Korean grocery store nearby. It's the standard broth for zaru soba; I checked for no msg. I imagine making my own broth with some anchovies and seaweed and dried mushroom wouldn't be hard; it would only make a 10-minute endeavour into a 20-minute one.

ramen with bok choy, mushrooms, seaweed, and an egg.

Making ramen is one of the few things my dad does in the way of culinary creation, but he's been at it for as long as I've been alive, and makes it perfect now whenever he does it ("unerring muse who makes the casual perfect..."). There was a strech of years when I was growing up, where he would make ramen for sunday brunch for our family. He got so good at cooking the noodles to the right ratio of chewiness and softness that he could tell how done they were by looking at how yellow and glimmery they were. You just have to watch carefully, he says. Our family's tossed around the idea that my dad should open a ramen shop once he retires. I'm not sure he will, but if he does, I'm sure there will be a line around the corner.
It would be silly of me to write a formal recipe for these homey dishes. It basically comes down to; boil water (or broth). While waiting for water to boil, chop up some vegetables. Let the pasta boil (I usually use soba; it cooks faster than Italian style pasta, and it's relatively more whole grain). At the last minute or so, crack in an egg, and drop in the vegetables. If you're boiling the pasta in water and have broth separately, then carefully drain the pasta of water, and place it in the bowl of broth. If you were boiling pasta in broth...then you're done! Enjoy, if you haven't forgotten, with chopped cilantro, scallions, or any fresh herbs that you think would go well. I think mint might be pretty cool, or bean sprouts, to balance out the richness of the broth and egg. My dad often added shredded sesame leaves. Add the herbs only at the end though; otherwise, they'll be cooked and thus flavorless.

-seohyung

I'm into wraps these days.

2009-03-01T18:50:00.000-05:00

First, the ingredients...in this case: hummus, grape tomatoes, slices of avocado and white onion, left over multigrain rice (quinoa, brown rice, french lentils, millet?), and a slather of greek yogurt.
Other combinations:
-today I made a wrap of: hummus, sardines dipped in a can of olive oil, slices of olives, onion, spring greens.
-tofu, rice, grated carrots, spring greens, a dressing made by mixing soy sauce, grated ginger, and sesame oil.
-the possibilities are endless!
top with greens...

then roll in to a wrap...
NOM NOM NOM

-seohyung

sandwiches are definitely my thing now

2009-02-23T01:02:00.000-05:00

grilled eggplant sandwich served with fried egg

Whether it be out of necessity or just love, I've become extremely efficient, and I think, pretty darn good, at making sandwiches. They're just so handy, and so quick, and rarely produce any sink-stackers. Also, it's a relatively endless world out there, with infinite combinations and varieties of taste and spice and texture. Rarely do I ever substitute my dinners with sandwiches; something about eating bread at dinner just kind of grates at the domestic part of myself. But often, they make great, and sometimes even the most satisfying, lunches or quick afternoon energy boosts.

And I'm not talking about your typical PB&J, or maybe sliced cheese. Again with my demand for newness, I just don't really like repetition very much. Sometimes its the bread, most times with fillings or condiments, just that little extra tweek pays off big time. Imagine these stackers:

- 7 grain bread, hommus tahini, generous amounts of shredded carrots, crunchy red bell pepper, a thin slice of sharp chedder, and a sprinkle of paprika and black pepper

- whole wheat bread, all natural chunky peanut butter, sliced banana, a drizzle of honey to cut up the sticky texture, and a powdering of cinnamon

- flaxseed bread, seedy brown mustard, rich tempeh bacon, fresh tomato slices, field greens, and alfalfa sprouts

- focaccia, thin layer of flavorful tomato paste, thinly sliced tomatoes, thinly sliced fresh mozarella, basil paste or fresh leaves, toasted on the grill till perfectly warm and crunchy

I had all of these sandwiches in the span of a week, and I definitely wasn't sick of them by the end. And of course, my personal favorite was actually inspired somewhat by the Clover foodtruck which rests on the majority of days by MIT campus, catering the needs of vegetarian and vegan students, producing the freshest, most ingenious combinations of ingredients daily. The sandwich of interest was the egg & eggplant sandwich, which consisted of grilled strips of eggplant and sliced hard-boiled egg wrapped up in thick pita bread with a flavorful sauce and fresh greens. In my reinterpretation, I added some extra goodies and seperated the egg from the sandwich. Accessible? Yes. Easy? Yes. Reproducable? Most certainly yes.

--

Eggplant on the Skillet Sandwich

1/2 medium eggplant, sliced thinly
1 piece red bell pepper, sliced into strips
field greens
hommus tahini
salt & pepper
paprika
2 slices whole wheat bread

1. Toast whole wheat bread or heat up on grill until edges begin coloring.
2. Grill eggplant slices on a hot skillet with olive oil, and scant amounts of salt and pepper to taste.
3. Apply generous layer of hommus to bread slice. Sprinkle with paprika. Add eggplant, red bell pepper strips, and field greens in layers. Close sandwich.
4. Serve immediately with or without a soft fried egg on the side.

foray into seitan

2009-02-17T22:18:00.000-05:00

When my mom took me out to Joe's Noodle House in Rockville, MD, a family favorite, (completely worth the wait, mediocre service and 45 minute drive) a few weeks back, we decided to forgo the usual menu and make use of the wide selection of quick eats they serve up on the weekends. Among the bamboo shoots, steamed vegetarian dumplings, fish soup, and jellyfish was a flavor-infused, dark, and rich dish of seitan (essentially wheat gluten). I have no idea how long the seitan had been marinated, but I'd venture a guess that it was a long mult-step process. So many layers of flavor so carefully layered into the dense compact pseudo-meat, I couldn't get enough of it.

Even since that day, I've wanted to replicate that particular flavor blend. Granted, what I made here is nothing like it, but it was within my comfort zone and produced sufficient satisfaction. I was scratching my head a little about what what to do here, so I made a hot pot/stir-fry of seitan, white yams, broccoli, and baby carrots. Nothing fancy, simple ingredients (aside from seitan), simple methods, and only 20 minutes of cooking time.

--

Seitan Hot Pot

a few pieces of seitan
1/2 head of broccoli, speared
1 handful baby carrots, diced
1 white yam
cooking wine
soy sauce
salt & pepper
hot sauce

1. Cook white yam in microwave till soft (Place on paper towel and microwave on high for 3 minutes on each side). Let cool slightly before removing skin; it should come right off. Cube.

2. Saute seitan in a pan with some hot olive oil and minced garlic. Add diced carrots. After searing, add dash of soy sauce and dash of cooking wine.

3. After cooking 5-8 minutes (carrots begin softening), add broccoli sprigs and yam cubes right on top. Add dash of water, cover skillet with lid, and turn heat down to medium. Allow broccoli to steam till it begins to cook. Season w/ salt, pepper and some hot sauce.

4. Serve alone or with rice. Makes 2-3 servings.

sharing

2009-02-14T17:22:00.000-05:00

seared cod w/ onions, cilantro, and pine nuts

There's a lot of joy in cooking for people, especially when you've got some skills up your sleeves. I'm not going to lie, appreciation is rather nice and boasts not just the ego, but love for the task. At a certain point, tossing up a quick meal for one just doesn't do it anymore; food, like art, needs to be cared for and honed with enjoyment. A friend once said to me that great food needs to be injected with love, in the same way that any great production is injected with creativity and spirit (of course, she went on to compare buying food and buying love, thereby reducing fine restaurant to brothels, chefs to prostitutes, and visitors to patrons of such houses of ill repute).

field greens w/ plum, carrots, and jack cheese

I made this meal to share with a friend, and I can pretty much say that it tasted infinitely better for it. The simple, quick, and delightfully flavorful Atlantic cod paired well with a sweet and mildly spicy green salad. I do believe this is the most successful way I have ever cooked cod, and that's saying a lot, since it is near impossible to mess it up. Something about its texture and innate rich flavor makes seasoning it redundant and unnecessary. A little bit of salt and pepper goes a long way, and then the question becomes what to put on the side, and how to complement it texturally. In this case, I elected for caramelized onions, cilantro and pine nuts: sweet, fresh, and nutty.

So, in the spirit of valentine's day, cook a meal for someone, share a little bit of wisdom--don't be too much of an alpha chef/douche in the kitchen.

--

Fresh Atlantic Cod

1 medium/large cod filet
1 medium onion, chopped into strips
1 handful fresh cilantro, diced
1 Tbsp pine nuts, coarsely chopped
salt, pepper, cooking wine

1. Rub a dash of salt and pepper evenly onto both sides of cod filet. Set Aside.
2. Heat some olive oil on a skillet. Saute onions.
3. When onions begin to yellow, push to sides of skillet and place filet to sear in the middle. Add dash of cooking wine. Continue sauteing onions until caramelized. Flip cod over after ~3-5 minutes.
4. After 3-5 minutes on other side, toss cilantro and pine nuts right on top of fish. Cover pan with lid and allow to cook 1 more minute. Remove from heat and serve.

--

Easy Green Salad w/ Plums and Jack Cheese

2 large handfuls field greens
1 plum, cored and sliced
1 handful baby carrots, sliced into strips
jack cheese, cut into strips
olive oil
salt and pepper

1. Toss field greens with dash of olive oil.
2. Arrange carrots, plum, and cheese on top. Flavor with pinch of salt and ground black pepper.
3. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled.

more goodness

2009-02-12T17:35:00.000-05:00

eggplant, mushroom, and bok choy salad

This was almost like iron chef. Seohyung walks into my room with a huge root of daikon radish and says something akin to we have to eat this, and you're going to make it. Never one to back up to a challenge like that I guess. This has pretty much become our approach to cooking; for a given set of ingredients, produce a unique and satisfying meal, not to mention with varying degrees of color, texture, and taste.

two types of salad, daikon soup, and rice

The daikon root was so big that I ended up making two dishes out of it. A crunchy carrot and daikon salad in the style of my maternal grandmother, and a clear daikon and tofu soup. All this was served up with multigrain rice and Seohyung's palate-exciting eggplant, mushroom, and bok choy salad.

A friend commented on how complex some of our meals turn out to be, an almost shocking realization. Soy and I generally like to keep our kitchen time to under half an hour, in and out, quick and easy, immediate versus delayed satisfaction. We keep things simple, using ordinary ingredients in fairly ordinary ways. I think the key is not to forget to reorganize once in a while, trade typical flavor combinations for unexpected ones, and so on.

--

Eggplant, Mushroom, and Bok Choy Salad

2 long eggplants, cut into thick strips
1 handful fresh mushrooms (shitaki, wild?), cut into strips
2 bunches baby bok choy, separated into leaves
grated sesame
fresh ginger
asian pear
vinegar, oil, salt, and pepper to taste

1. Steam eggplants until done.
2. Mix eggplant, bok choy, and mushroom in a bowl.
3. Prepare dressing using finely grated ginger, finely grated asian pear, vinegar, water, oil, ground sesame, salt, and pepper.
4. Drizzle dressing over salad.
5. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled.

--

Daikon and Carrot Salad

1/2 daikon root, roughly grated or sliced into thin strips
1 handful baby carrots, sliced into thin strips
2 sprigs scallion, finely diced
sesame seeds
1/2 Tbsp soy sauce
1 Tbsp black vinegar
1/2 tsp sesame oil
salt & pepper to taste

1. Mix chopped daikon and carrots.
2. Prepare dressing of soy sauce, vinegar, sasame oil, salt and pepper.
3. Add to daikon blend, mix well.
4. Top with scallion and sesame seeds. Serve chilled.

--

Daikon Soup

1/2 daikon root, cubed
1/4 piece tofu, finely cubed
cilantro, diced
olive oil
vinegar
cooking wine
salt & pepper

1. Boil 4 cups water with dash of olive oil.
2. Add daikon root and tofu. Add vinegar, salt and pepper to taste.
3. Allow to simmer ~20 minutes until daikon is soft to a fork. Remove from heat and add cilantro. Serve immediately.

a little rusty

2009-02-10T00:57:00.000-05:00

Seeing Seohyung again definitely brought about a renewed frenzy of cooking with our combined efforts. I am thankful to once again have a partner in crime who not only shares my diet, but knows what she's doing and what tastes good in the kitchen. I have to admit, the first occasion had me doing a little bit of acclimation with the newly spotless and refurnished 4w kitchen, as well as the forgotten limitations of dorm cooking. I guess a month of living at home with a mother that cooks will do that to you.

Soy got a new grater, and it's already done some fabulous things. Anything with any water content: ginger, fruit, vegetables etc. can be zested into a phenominally flavorful and textured dressing. This tool has already proved itself worthy to be part of a commanding kitchen repertoire which needs to be functional because it's sparse, and sparse out of necessity.

This was the first dinner we cooked together in over a month, and it foreshadows some of the nicer and more creative things to come. A fresh salad of field greens, cherry tomatoes, snap peas, and an original find by Seohyung, Cayang, a curiously bitter and minty herb, was dressed with a delicately sweet and spicy dressing constituting finely pulped asian pear, ginger, and vinegar. A soft tofu congee supplemented with liquid egg, bits of salted dry seaweed and plenty of crisp scallion topped off a hearty blend of brown rice and grains. There were a lot of flavors here, contrasting rather harmoniously. The Cayang was definitely new, and I am still not convinced of its proper usage.

--

Fresh Field Salad w/ Pear and Ginger Dressing

mixed field greens
1 handful cherry tomatoes, halved
(1 handful Cayang herb)
a few snap peas, cut into pieces
fresh ginger root
asian pear
sweet vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

1. Arrange components of salad in layers.
2. Use fine grater to zest ginger root and asian pear to fine pulp (use as much as necessary to achieve desired sweetness and spice).
3. Add dash of vinegar, dash of water, and salt and pepper to taste.
4. Drizzle on salad and serve.

--

Soft Tofu Congee

1 piece soft/silken tofu
2 eggs, beaten
several pieces of dry roasted seaweed
2 sprigs scallion, finely chopped
fined chopped ginger
soy sauce
vinegar
salt & pepper

1. Heat up some olive oil on a pan. Saute ginger till fragrant.
2. Turn down heat. Add tofu to pan by spoonfuls. Turn up heat and add enough water to cover bottom of pan. Add soy sauce, vinegar, salt and pepper to flavor.
3. Beat eggs and allow to rest until settled (it is important that the eggs do not become fluffy from being overly aerated). Slowly pore egg over tofu.
4. Allow liquid to boil down until a gravy-like consistency is reached. Add scallion and seaweed. Remove from heat and serve over rice.

last few days at home...

2009-02-07T17:41:00.001-05:00

Being home was a pretty strange experience. It's been a rather long time since I've had this kind of pseudo-confinement. I took it as an unexpected but otherwise pleasant chance to reconnect with people I've neglected to think of for a very long time.

Returning back to school was equally strange in its own right, and posed its own set of absurdities and periods of readjustment. This might be extremely superstitious, but I truly think breaking that mirror a few days ago woke me up from this funk, and everything has been better for it. I finally feel like I'm back to my normal self, maybe a little better even.

This was one of the last lunches I made for myself while at home, and it uses the mandatory okara that I am so fond of and can never get my hands on in Boston. This time, I made crumbly soft okara and brown rice pancakes, with caramelized french green beans, cherry tomatoes, and onion strings on the side. The pancakes soaked up the juices from the sauteed vegetables, acquiring a richer level of flavor and texture.

--

Okara Rice Pancakes

Ingredients:
1/3 cup brown rice (cooked and cooled)
1/2 cup okara (soybean pulp)
1 Tbsp all-purpose flour
1 egg
1 sprig scallion, chopped
salt, pepper, paprika for flavor

1. Beat egg and add to brown rice. Mix thoroughly.
2. Mix in okara and flour till uniform. Stir in chopped scallion.
3. Add salt, pepper, and paprika to taste.
4. Heat skillet on medium heat. Grease with dash of olive oil.
5. Drop batter by half cup on hot skillet, flip after batter has set on one side. Be very careful as these pancakes are incredibly fragile.
6. After cooking on both sides, flip out onto plate and serve.

--

Caramelized Green Beans

2 large handfuls french style green beans
1 dozen cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 onion, chopped into strips
1 clove garlic, diced
soy sauce, black pepper

1. Heat some olive oil in skillet till hot.
2. Saute garlic and onion till caramelized.
3. Add tomatoes and green beans. Add dash of soy sauce, a dash of water, and some ground black pepper to taste. Turn heat down to medium and cover skillet.
4. After allowing the beans to saute for a few minutes, turn the heat off and move skillet to the side. Do not uncover. Serve after 5 minutes.

Use the whole vegetable

2009-01-30T17:34:00.000-05:00

I recently saw a friend prepare radishes (O radishes! in winter!) and saw the green leaves chopped off and thrown away. I almost wished I'd followed the sad projectile of the radish greens into the wet, dark garbage can with an out-reached hand, slow-mo style: "NOooooo..." I love what is sold, but I love what comes with it too: the celery leaves, harboring more intense flavor than the stalks; radish greens, peppery & appetizing when sauteed with garlic; beet greens, raw if they're small and young, cooked otherwise...In short, if it's green and leafy, I'll try it.
Using the greens that come with the root vegetables, incidentally, makes my life easier. In the picture above, I made lentils with kidney beans, tossed some chopped beet greens at the end, and ate it with chopped raw beets. I was in and out of the kitchen within twenty minutes. I think I've done well for a solo weeknight dinner.

apple banana muffin?

2009-01-13T16:31:00.000-05:00

I'm such a sucker for sweet things...and every once in a while, I'll indulge a bit and do some baking. I'm not too into nauseatingly sweet and rich desserts, but I do like a quick bite of something delicious after a savory meal. After some experimentation, I've gotten pretty decent at substituting ingredients and trimming the sugar and butter out of traditional recipes. This recipe is no different, definitely a keeper. A whole apple, two large bananas, and half a cup of brown sugar sweetens a dozen muffins--that's not too bad.

--

Apple Banana Muffins
makes 1 dozen

1 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
some nutmeg
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla flavoring
2 Tbsp milk
2 bananas, peeled and mashed
1 apple, peeled, cored and diced

1. Preheat oven to 375F and line 12 cupcake tins.
2. Shift flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg together into a bowl.
3. In separate bowl, cream oil and sugar together until fluffy. Beat in egg. Mix in vanilla and milk. Stir in dry ingredients, do not overmix.
4. Fold in apples and bananas.
5. Fill cupcake tins to 2/3 capacity, bake for 23-25 minutes until done.

prep vs no prep

2009-01-09T15:51:00.001-05:00

vegetarian dumplings with garlic soy sauce

So, I've been making a lot of food these days, quick lunches made of whatever scraps of food I can find in the fridge, and difficult dinners with long afternoons of prep-work and shopping. Both are fun and have their occasions, and no doubt useful when it comes to entertaining friends and large groups of stomachs.

Dumplings are super common in our household, it seems to be the rudimentary unit to any celebratory meal. Eating them is generally gratifying and fun, but it especially nice because it brings the entire family to the kitchen. It's a lot of job delegating, since a lot needs to be done at once, very assembly line. After the dough and filling is prepared, dough needs to be rolled out, dumplings need to be manufactured, and cooked simultaneously. At least that's how it works in my house. We made these vegetarian dumplings on New Years Day (national hangover awareness day), amid cries that vegetarian is not celebratory at all :/ No one whined once they got their mouths on them.

whole wheat linguine with smoked salmon sauce and cucumbers

another lentil fix

On the other side of this post are those quick meals that I whip up without thinking, to which I've added ingredients on the basis of "I think this should taste good." Smoked salmon I found in the fridge made an excellent cream based sauce for some whole wheat linguine. I complemented this rich pasta with some cool sliced english cucumber. And of course, my obligatory lentil fix, something I usually make a large batch of and eat over the course of a week. This time, additions include baby bok choy, zucchini, a few shrimp, sweet peas, onion, cashews, and cherry tomatoes. It never fails to be delicious to me...

--

Vegetarian Dumplings

3 cups flour
1+ cups water
pinch salt

1/2 piece tofu
1 bunch cellophane noodles
1 package dried wood ear, soaked in water
1 package/4 blocks five spice dry tofu
2 eggs, scrambled
1 bunch chives
1 egg, raw
salt, pepper, soy sauce, vinegar, rice wine, sesame oil for flavoring
garlic

1. Mix a pinch of salt into flour. Gradually knead in water until dough comes together. Dough will always come together more with kneading, so be careful not to overuse water (this will ruin the dough). For chewy dough, use cold water. For softer dough, use more lukewarm water. Cold water tightens the gluten in flour. Knead several minutes until dough forms smooth ball. Cover with saran wrap and let sit.

2. Chop all filling ingredients into small confetti-sized pieces. Mix in large bowl with 1 raw egg to keep the filling together. Add salt, pepper, soy sauce, vinegar, rice wine, and sesame oil to taste.

3. Make dumplings! This part is kind of indescribable, there are tutorials online?

4. Boil water in large pot. Cook dumplings until they float in the water. Add 1/2 cup cold water and boil again 2 times. Take them out and eat them! I like to use a soy sauce, black vinegar, sesame oil, and garlic sauce right on top.

empty fridge woes

2009-01-06T07:17:00.000-05:00

When I looked in the fridge after working out this morning, it looked like a classic Murakami fridge--mostly empty, with a bottle of sparkling water (instead of beer) and an old, cold stump of carrot (instead of cucumber) shivering in the whirring cavity. This was near 5am, so going grocery shopping was not an option, nor was ignoring the tug of hunger made acute by unaccustomed exercise. Having been away & still jetlagged, and furthermore finding my cutting board slightly charred and abandoned in a communal kitchen sink, I improvised this humble chickpea salad with what else was in the fridge (+ communal kitchen fridge) (-cutting board actions).
Consider the recipe below as a general guideline--that is, improvise upon it as you wish. I probably would have put lemon instead of tangerine (but when life gives you tangerines...); I imagine thinly sliced radishes, celery, jicama, or red onions would have fared very well instead of carrots--the idea is textural contrast, between the crunch of the vegetable and the softer chickpeas. While I dressed the salad simply with salt, black pepper, and ground red pepper, I might have added chopped cilantro, or parsley, or cumin, etc. Crumbled nuts might be good too. But if you have an empty fridge and an empty stomach, the very basics (even without the carrots, I imagine) are delicious on their own right.

Empty Fridge Chickpea Salad
Chickpeas from a typical 15 oz. can (I usually go for Goya or Trader Joe's, though I do prefer cooking them from dried ones)
pinch each of salt, black pepper, & ground red pepper
a dusting of Parmesan cheese
a drizzle of olive oil
a squeeze of tangerine
some shavings of a carrot (alternatively, julienne them)

Drain the chickpeas of their can juice. Rinse with cold water, and drain again. In a bowl, mix the chickpeas with the rest of the ingredients. Taste, and adjust as you wish.

-seohyung

my madeleine

2009-01-03T12:05:00.000-05:00

This is my soul food--I make it when I'm down and out. The ingredients are usually past their prime too, but the dish is all the better for it. Fried rice tastes more distinct and crunchy when made with rice at least a couple of days old; expiring, sour kimchi gives a depth to the dish that attracts me in much the same way to Maria Callas's older voice. A kind of edge, a piquant expressiveness of a joke understood late, a moment of epiphany in retrospect. This is a dish new rice and new kimchi just cannot deliver, just like you can't reflect on the present. But take care to make sure the other ingredients--can of tuna, scallion, egg, even wok hei--are fresh. A weak body can't possibly want food poisoning, yes? The instance captured in the picture was sometime during the last week of school, when I was writing more than I was sleeping. My study buddy Bryan and I stumbled back to the kitchen like zombies and ravished the food. I'd almost forgotten to take the picture until Bryan reminded me of the food blog! It's a miracle we even waited for me to snap a picture before devouring what I thought was enough food for at least four people.
Like many of my habits, I picked up this one from my mother. She'd whip up a quick snack when I stayed up late studying for exams in middle school, back when I lived at home. Among other rotating favorites were french toast, pa jeon, and steamed sweet potatoes with winter kimchi. The first time I tried to make this on my own was at least a year or two after I left for boarding school, when I wanted to show my curious friends in Cleveland what real Korean food (vs. restaurant food; undoubtedly there is a difference, a sure one at that) tasted like. I called up my mom to ask for her recipe and she gave me one, in measurements such as "some," "about enough," "until it looks about right." Yes, this is a kind of dish that is generous, with a wide window of doneness & rightness. Its quidditas will remain even if you add some more ingredients (pea, corn, chopped kale, broccoli, etc) or go only with the bare bones (rice and kimchi). In fact, if you forget the wok on the fire or stirring it for a bit, it will reward you well with browned bits of caramelized cabbage & crunchy rice. That said, there are a couple of tricks that I've learned over the years. First, use quality kimchi. I hate the chemical tang of msg, especially in kimchi, because it bulldozes over the complex harmony. Second, let the wok or frying pan heat up sufficiently. I usually let it heat up until I can't keep my hand for more than a couple of seconds an inch above the surface of the wok. This way the high heat fries fast & everything can come together in a flash. Third, don't poke around too much. Try to spread everything out in a thin layer, and go do some push-ups. Then come back and redistribute. If the ingredients can't maintain a contact with the hot surface long enough, they won't cook well. Conduction, not convection!

Kimchi Fried Rice
serves one comfortably
1 bowl of old, cooked rice
1/3 bowl of sour kimchi, chopped and squeezed to reduce some of the moisture
a drizzle of oil, preferably with a high smoking point
optional:
fried egg, chopped scallion, a can of tuna, etc (see notes above).

Turn up stove to high and let the wok heat up. Then add the oil. When it starts smoking a little, add the kimchi (chopped & squeezed). Saute to coat with the oil, then let it fry. When it starts to appear dry and is developing crispy side, add the rice. Mix the rice and the kimchi; use the utensil to keep dividing the rice (instead of mashing it together). If you're adding tuna, try to squeeze most of the oil and moisture out of it, then add. Let it all fry until you think it's done. Tasting helps. If I do add frozen peas & corn or chopped kale, I add them now and fry for another 30 seconds, just enough for them to have heated up but before they go limp. Top with chopped scallion and/or a fried egg. Enjoy!

-s

Okara Pancakes & Eggplant

2008-12-24T13:49:00.000-05:00

Okara pancakes w/ fresh green scallion

Okara is basically soybean pulp, the ground up, fibrous parts of soybeans left over after filtration. My dad makes soy milk every week, sometimes twice a week from scratch, meaning that we always have a couple ounces of this stuff lying around in the fridge at any given moment. The paste is watery, fine, and has a difficult time keeping its shape, so its always a bit of a challenge figuring out what to do with it.

lunch

I usually default to mixing it into porridge or making it into savory pancakes. In the case of pancakes, the addition of an egg and a little bit of flour is all that's necessary. The difference between these and crepes is the added softness, thickness, and fluffiness resulting from the texture of the okara. And of course, true to my wild, Manchurian heritage (...) I like eating these wrapped around a sprig of raw scallion and some fermented soybean paste.

Spicy eggplant

On the side, I sauteed a Chinese eggplant in vegetable oil, with garlic, soy sauce, chili paste, and a dash of yellow curry as seasoning. Chopped scallions right on top adds a pleasant contrasting coolness and crunch.

--lucy

Okara Pancakes:

1/2 cup okara
1/4 cup flour
1 egg
pinch of salt and pepper

Mix all ingredients until consistent. Makes 3-4 pancakes.

Feeding the Masses

2008-12-22T15:39:00.001-05:00

lentils w/ cauliflower and broccoli, topped with side of garlic green beans

I cooked with Erika for the first time on Saturday. A easy lentil dish loaded with carmelized onion, broccoli crowns and cauliflower sprigs, served with a healthy side of garlic sauteed green beans. We ended up with leftovers in excess.

Erika sauteing green beans in the 4w kitchen

Since Erika's usually demanded to cook enormous portions of food to feed dozens of people, it was difficult for her to cut down and simplify a recipe for just two of us. It's generally much easier to cook for a crowd, easier to get variety, and easier to form a balanced diet. Not too many single guys and gals really have the time or desire to make a fanciful single-serving dinner. Who wants to cook a cupful of rice, one chicken breast, 3 sprigs of asparagus, and 1 slice of apple pie every night?

lentils w/ sweet potatoes, peas, kale, and nuts

The solution? Texture and variety within one dish (something that Seohyung loves and has been inching me towards). She made lentils for a bunch of us over finals week, when I was busy holed up in my room in the driest textbooks I could find.

Seohyung and her delicious creation

The warm, savory, soft lentils, the sugary sweet potatoes, the soft crunch of hardy kale, the bright bursts of green peas, all topped with the tangy citrus of fresh squeezed lime juice and bite of toasted nuts. Lentils are just sooo good. And so easily decoratable with just about anything you have in the fridge!

Cilantro Peanut Noodles

2008-12-22T15:32:00.000-05:00

Real quick, nothing fancy: sauce was a handful of ground up cilantro, and a spoonful of fresh peanut butter. Sauteed in there are some halved cherry tomatoes, and some soybeans I bought in these cute, kid-friendly, single-serving, lunchbox packages. Toasted walnuts right on top. I used whole wheat thin spaghetti for this, but anything will do. Pasta's just too easy and tempting for me.

Anatomy of a Sunday Dinner

2008-12-17T21:55:00.000-05:00

Cherry Tomato & Rosemary Bruschetta, Seared Brussels Sprouts, Cod with Kale, Soup

Lucy and I are alpha cooks: we like to think that we know what we're doing, and even when we don't, we trust--nay, we know that all will turn out well. So between moments of fierce saute'ing and stirring, we relax and have fun, messing around in the kitchen with kernels of embryonic recipes we've concocted with what's in the fridge. Since our authority is rarely questioned, and even more seldom are the instances where we question each other's ability or, worse yet, taste, we haven't yet (may we never) gotten into a power dynamic in the kitchen that resembles a dictatorship. One of the ways in which we avoid becoming like the couples in the New York Times article is by making two or three dishes for dinner where one of us is wholly responsible for one or two of them. We do discuss before we start--mainly so that we can avoid making the same thing, and sometimes to build upon each other's ideas. And how wonderful it is to have a variety of textures and flavors in our meal. So far, we've been doing very well, and our Sunday dinner from last week marks another success:

Lucy's Soup with Tofu, Eggs, Tomatoes, and Scallions

Lucy made the soup and bruschetta; I made the cod and Brussels sprouts. It's so fun to cook with Lucy because not only does she keep me company but also reassures me that it will all turn out well when I'm fretting about this or that. Also, at the end of cooking, there's twice as many dishes as I've mustered up! I would have loved the cod and Brussels sprouts by themselves, but the warm soup and toasty Bruschetta made eating dinner into a dining experience. Plus, I love the ingenious things Lucy comes up with--I don't think I ever would have thought to make a soup from just tofu, tomatoes, eggs, scallions, and make it that delicious. Or to cut stale sourdough bread into strips, top with thinly sliced cherry tomatoes, salt, and rosemary, and toast them in the oven. We've done nothing fancy here--they're all basic techniques: chopping, searing, stirring, seasoning--but the sum was more than all the parts.

Poached, Harissa-smeared Cod with Seared Brussels Sprouts and Red Russian Kale

Soup:
Boil approximately four cups of water with a drizzle of olive oil; add half a pound of cubed tofu and a handful of halved cherry tomatoes; season to taste. Lucy added scant salt, lots of black pepper, a spoon or two of soy sauce, a dash of vinegar, and a dash of Chinese cooking wine. Let boil for ~five minutes, stream two whisked eggs into the shimmering soup. Wait a minute before stirring. After stirring, turn off the heat, and add scallions sliced thinly on the bias and some more black pepper on top.

Bruschetta:
This is less of a traditional Bruschetta, and more of a crunchy sourdough toast with tomatoes and rosemary on top. Preheat the oven to some reasonable temperature. Slice sourdough into strips that can fit in a mouth easily. Top with thinly sliced tomatoes and sprinkle rosemary, salt, and a little bit of black pepper. Drizzle with a little bit of olive oil--be careful not to drench! Light is the idea. Toast in the oven until desired doneness.

Cod:
Rub fillet of cod with a thin layer of Harissa (mine's from a tube, from a local store called Cardullo's). Let it marinate while chopping an onion into slices, halving Brussels sprouts, and chopping some kale (~1 cup). Heat a pan and place the onions on a layer, and the cod on top. Pour two tablespoons of water on the pan and put a cover. Let it cook. When the fish is nearly done, take off the cover and let some of the water evaporate. On the same pan, or a different one depending on availability, heat the pan hot with a drizzle of olive oil. When the oil is hot, place the Brussels sprouts, cut-side down on the pan. Don't shuffle them around--let the cut-side develop a nice brown crust while the top of the sprouts remain crunchy and fresh. Remove from the pan before the Brussels sprouts get soggy.

Sit down, and enjoy!

Tomato Pesto Pasta

2008-12-14T00:17:00.000-05:00

Finals week is eating away all my time, but I feel wrong neglecting this newborn infant of a blog. So here's something super quick I whipped up last week. Linguine tossed with caramelized onion strips, halved cherry tomatoes, ground fresh basil, and a spoonful of tomato paste. A side of shredded brussel sprouts sauteed with diced garlic (yes, I still have like 2 pounds of sprouts in the fridge, thanks bryan), and a white yam microwaved to steamed perfection.

Tomato paste is my new love, it's dense, super flavorful, and perfect in combination with some fresh tomatoes; a little really goes a long way. And of course, my dad's patented way of cooking yams in the microwave (is there any other way?), 3 minutes on each side.

Back to studying for finals now, still loaded up with all that delicious tea Seohyung made me drink this afternoon. Happy bookworming!

--lucy

more crepes!

2008-12-07T13:47:00.002-05:00

Sweet Crepes

I didn't think I'll be making crepes today. I meant to have some greasy brunch fare that my dorm GRT's put together (GRT being Graduate Resident Tutor, aka token grad student to make sure none of us commit deadly crimes such as leaving beer bottles out in the lounge). But my friend Apratim with whom I was going to have brunch went to the grocery store to bring some fruits and there wasn't enough food downstairs at the brunch and everyone was hungry, etc., etc., and it seemed like a better idea to just make our own damn food ourselves. And what a great idea that was. I had a hankering for crepes ever since I wasn't there to partake in Lucy's...so I looked up her recipe from our blog et voila, les crepes!

Making Crepes

We started out with Lucy's recipe for crepes, but increased it by 50% because Jongjin joined us. First filling--I had mushrooms and onions on hand, so we stir-fried those together with some spices. This didn't turn out too well because one of the things we used was a 'steak seasoning' that was lying around the kitchen, which made a strong and strange impact on our poor little button mushrooms.
Second filling--never the ones to give up, we made something else: a "salsa" of black beans, feta cheese, and chopped scallion. We didn't take a picture of this, but I assure you it was delicious.
I also made a tofu scramble (crumbled tofu, onions, scallions, tossed and stir-fried with garam masala), but by that point we wanted some sweet crepes.

Tofu Scramble

We went a little crazy with the sweet crepes. I'll list the variations here:
- hazelnut chocolate butter
- hazelnut chocolate butter with bananas
- raspberry jam
- melted chocolate chips (first picture of the post)
- raspberry jam, hazelnut chocolate butter, bananas.

Here's everyone enjoying their crepes:

Apratim & JongJin

seohyung

Squash Hotpot

2008-12-05T18:54:00.000-05:00

This was a desperation assignment. I pretty much threw everything I had left in my fridge into this dish, and it turned out pretty delicious. Chunks of buttercup squash, zucchini, tofu, and onion were boiled down in a pot with tomato paste, whole cumin, paprika, cinnamon, nutmeg, a pinch of brown sugar, and black pepper. It was easy, I didn't have to watch it, and after half an hour on the stove, it was dinner time.

I served it with a blend of brown rice, short grain white rice, and millet, and topped the rather acidic and spicy dish with some cool plain yoghurt. Seohyung and I have been pretty awful about cooking together, but at least we are making deliciousness separately...we will work on that.

<3>

Savory Crepes

2008-12-04T21:53:00.000-05:00

I'm just going to put this out there...I'm pretty obsessed with crepes. I used to make batches of them and freeze them and have them for breakfast every morning. And I'm really picky, I like my crepes eggy-er than most, so over the years I've pretty much nailed it down to one recipe. Not the quickest food to make, but definitely easier than most people suspect.

The filling I used was finely chopped zucchini, tofu, and yellow squash, flavored with cumin, paprika, ginger, and tumeric, sauteed briefly to extricate the juices. Then, since I was making savory crepes, I adjusted my typical recipe by adding a little more flour and water than usual. The whole process took a little over thirty minutes, and of course, I couldn't resist throwing some seared brussel sprouts right on top, especially since I had approximately five pounds of it sitting in my fridge.

And no crepe dinner is right without a little sweet to top it off! I watered down the remaining mixture I had, and made thinner, crispier crepes filled with chocolate syrup and in a fit of inspiration, cheese, served with raspberry jam. Nom nom nom...

And some Thanksgiving dinner pictures! The first is the bird I was talking about; it had managed to get inside the building and was stuck inside for the good part of the day! The second is an array of dinner foods (minus the duck centerpiece).

The tart homemade cranberry sauce and stuffing were courtesy April and Kiba (who also made the duck). I contributed a big fresh salad with butter lettuce, romaine hearts, yellow and red bell pepper, tomatoes, avocado, and fresh mozarella with a grapefruit vinagrette; the crepes plate (with assorted fillings of chocolate syrup, raspberry jam, peanut butter, and condensed milk), and the pumpkin pie (which I made off the Eagle brand recipe on a butter crust). We definitely needed some fattening >:0

--
lucy

Crepes recipe:
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup milk
1/3 cup water
2 Tbsp melted butter
1 cup flour
1/4 tsp salt

Normally for sweet crepes, I decrease the milk to 2/3 cup, ditch the water, cut the flour and butter by half, and add a bit of brown sugar. This makes enough to serve two people for dinner and have leftovers for lunch the next day...

quickie

2008-11-30T20:46:00.000-05:00

We made this in early November (6th, to be exact). I think this might have been one of the first dinners where we thought about making a blog to document our culinary endeavors. Lucy made the scrambled eggs (Chinese style) with tomatoes, corn, and scallion. I forget how she did it, but I think it involved cooking the eggs half way, adding ears of tomatoes and some frozen corn, then finishing it off with chopped scallion. I made the pasta--angel hair tossed with zucchini sauteed in garlic. Simple, delicious, made and gone in three seconds.

squash medley

2008-11-30T20:00:00.000-05:00

I'm all about efficiency: putting in as little effort as possible to making delicious food. This is important to me because I don't have all day to cook, but I'm determined to eat well and healthily within my budget. In practice, this principle translates to eating produce that's in season and minimizing active cooking time. Squash, I've found, is a great way to do that.

Kabocha squash has been going around for $1.50 a pound. Given how little of the squash I throw away (practically nothing, if I roast the seeds too), this is a great bargain. I've also read from some medical sources that eating carbohydrates from vegetables is better than from grains (this remains to be illuminated...I can't seem to remember my sources!). Furthermore, I'm always in favor of food that can be stored for a couple of weeks before going bad.

This particular dish took about 10 minutes of active prep time and 30 minutes of roasting in the oven. I diced and cubed half of a kabocha squash, dressed it with a tea spoon of olive oil and sprinkled it with salt, Korean chili pepper powder, paprika, and whole cumin seeds. It's important to salt the squash well--this is the only source of salt in the whole dish. Roasted until done in 400 F. I dressed a cup of chickpeas (from a can) with half a tablespoon of green curry paste and roasted it in the same oven for ten, just to warm them up. Threw in some chopped mushrooms on top of the squash when the squash was nearly done. When the squash was ready, I took everything out, mixed them with a cup or two of chopped red Russian kale and poppy seeds (just for fun) and sprinkled some lemon juice. If I were more patient, I might have even chopped up some cilantro. Some slivers of red onion or crumbles of cashew might have worked well too.

poached haddock

2008-11-30T19:20:00.000-05:00

My sister's been staying with me for the past week; she's leaving tomorrow, making tonight the last night of her stay. When I asked her in the beginning of the week if there was anything she'd missed from eating at the school cafeteria, she listed: strawberries, good tea, and fish. The first two we've already accomplished earlier in the week. But the fish remained to be seen until tonight.

Here's a picture of my helplessly cute sister:
I'd probably even make liverwurst if she said she wanted it.

On our way back from central square last night, we popped in the grocery store to buy the freshest-looking fish they had. We left with about half a pound of Haddock. I wasn't too crazy about that because I was hoping for one more amenable to baking e.g. Sea Bass. Because Haddock is leaner, dressing it with salt and forgetting about it in the oven for a half hour would probably make it leathery and tough. So instead, I adopted what my boyfriend Eugene had made for me in Portland with dover sole: poaching with soy/ginger sauce, lots of mushrooms and onions, topped with cilantro and lime juice.

He used WholeFood's pre-made soy ginger sauce, but not having that, I improvised--the fish was poached with coins of fresh ginger, soy sauce, chopped scallions, and Chinese cooking wine. By poaching, I really mean just throwing all of it in together and covering.

Everything came together in a flash. For a more orderly cook, here's some directions: saute onion with minimal oil (a couple of tear drops). Throw in the fish, cover with chopped mushrooms and chopped scallions, a couple of tbsp. of Chinese cooking wine, a tbsp. of soy sauce, coins of fresh ginger, and cover. (If you have more time, grate the ginger. Otherwise, chop them into sizable coins so that they can be picked out later.) Occasionally check. When done, sprinkle with chopped cilantro and scallions, and juice from half a lemon. We ate this with multigrain rice (quinoa, brown rice, buckwheat groats, millet, amaranth). The mushrooms and the soupy poach liquid made the rice so delicious. Enjoy!

Mmm...squash

2008-11-27T15:29:00.000-05:00

Mmm...this one's Seohyung's creation. I mostly just helped her eat it. The main dish is lentils, seasoned mildly since they're just so good by themselves, sauteed with some fresh bunch kale (something I truly didn't start eating until I began imposing dietary restrictions on myself). The kale was just the right level of done, not soggy, still with a little crunch, sweet and slightly bitter.

And this was the first experiment Seohyung did with roasting squash this winter. Acorn squash, sliced thin, roasted in the oven with a little salt, pepper, and whole cumin. Just look at those whole spices! Seohyung likes them especially since the flavor is so concentrated in little bursts; it's really a different sensation from ground spices, and it adds a little crunch. The whole shebang was topped with some fresh squeezed lemon juice. I just love it when people cook for me :D

Just as a little side note, I purchased some pre-made buckwheat soba, thinking it was going to be delicious...or at least reasonably edible. I was sorely disappointed, and found myself stuck with a container of unwanted noodles. Never one to neglect these possibilities, I made a quick dinner for myself by stir-frying the soba with some halved cherry tomatoes and fresh chopped scallion. On the side, I dolled up some sliced zucchini with a little paprika, black pepper, and sage, and added a fried egg right on top.

I'm also not sure how a bird managed to get inside the building. He's trying very hard to get out, but is pretty much just throwing himself at the windows repeatedly...in a very sad, suicidal manner. I fear for his sanity.

Happy thanksgiving! Try not to kill yourselves...
-Lucy

Porridge Dinner

2008-11-23T22:39:00.001-05:00

First meal post. We had this Friday night, a concoction of small dishes centered around congee. Seohyung and I prefer to have a variety of flavors and textures in all our meals, and this is no exception. A mild, thick rice porridge, contrasted with spicy curry shrimp, sweet roasted squash, and crunchy green broccoli.

The porridge was a boiled up mixture of white rice and sticky rice and eggs, topped with crisp green scallions. Shrimp was quickly sauteed on hot flames, spiced with generous amounts of garlic, scallion, curry, and paprika. A fresh winter squash (which Seohyung had just picked up from the last farmer's market of the year) was sliced and oven roasted with cinnamon, nutmeg, and paprika. And a small stalk of broccoli was sliced, heat-shocked, and pan-seared with garlic and vinegar.

I'm always quite fond of how little time it takes for us to whip these creations up, and how quickly they disappear from our plates. Not to gloat or anything, but I guess that's a testament to how fabulous we are. Or maybe just another sign of how little time we have to feed ourselves properly. At least we aren't eating from the same bland college food troughs as some of our fellow students.

Love,
Lucy

First Post

2008-11-21T20:03:00.000-05:00

Hi!

Welcome to our cooking blog. We're Lucy & Seohyung and we cook on the fly. Being college students, we don't have much time or budget to cook, but we always manage to whip up something delicious and healthy. Over the course of last semester, we found ourselves cooking more often together and taking pictures of our creations. We decided we wanted to keep record and share them---hence, Brief Syzygy was born. Stay tuned!

Thanks for visiting,
Lucy & Seohyung