mary eats

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

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

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

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

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

March is baby octopus season in Korea.

For me, there is no season in which to indulge in this rubbery eight legged sea creature, because, frankly, octopus is disgusting. It isn’t the final product that is off putting. Mesmerized by sushi conveyer belts, I often find the white slice, with a kiss of purple, visually stimulating. It is in its living state, where the pale gray, mucus orb clings to the side of aquarium walls outside restaurants that turns my stomach and triggers my tounge to pop out of my mouth while exclaiming “blehach.”

I, however-and known to most- am trying to broaden my Korean culinary horizons. So when Kev came across an article in the Korean Times promoting chugg jjoo mi restaurants, I knew my nay saying wouldn’t stand a chance.

Mini-octopi are revered in Korea for their superior flavor. I’m not sure how this is detected under a smothering of kochujeong (red pepper paste). You could cover anything from a shoe to fois gois in this sauce and only taste one thing. Kochujeong-if your taste buds haven’t been singed off.

Samo Jjuggumi, a tiny restaurant hidden in the alleys near Sadaemun station (really, most all Korean restaurant description start off like this) is noted for it’s light hand when it comes to the fiery condiment. The restaurant serves only two dishes, chuggumi-kui, octopus grilled and seasoned with kocujeong (kui means grilled) and chuggumi chongol, a fiery soup with veggies and tofu. We opted for the former.

Yet another experience began with us, the only people in the restaurant, unable to speak Korean and the staff clueless with English. Sign language proceeded and the procession of side dishes began. The grill arrived, a hubcap looking apparatus, and the ajuma bent over yapping away in Korean, I sure saying something like “don’t touch this it’s very hot.” We watched while she flopped pieces of raw octopus onto the grill. The heat caused the meat to shrink and curl up over itself. So, this is what it looks like to have your food cooked alive.

Trying to get over the horror at watching the dead pieces move and wiggle about the grill, we popped bits into our mouths and began to chew. Brows rose, then furrowed. Smiles went into frowns and back into smiles, chewing chewing chewing, about to swallow, no wait, more chewing. Man, the stuff is chewy.

Natural flavor? Couldn’t taste it. But when wrapped in red lettuce leaves smeared with dwangjeong (soy bean paste) it wasn’t bad. Is it something I would greatly anticipate every spring for? Unless each order came with a chocolate Easter bunny, not a chance.

Who knew sweet potatoes could cause so much trouble!

Soju is Korea’s Vodka. The national liquor. While Korea produces dozens other whistle wetters, soju’s cheap price has made it the most popular. Don’t assume that Soju is Korea’s answer to Sake. Made from the sweet potato, it is closer to Shochu. (the Japanese sweet potato liquor).

My first few experiences with the stuff left me in a grim state. The previous night’s events became impossible to recall, my eyelids, too painful to open. Body parts appeared detached and unresponsive, whisky and soda had never left me like this before.

All this from a bottle the size of a coke and less than 1 US dollar. I’d say soju far better deserves Absinthe’s reputation (and legislation). Stories told in the expat bars and house parties could fuel a sequel to Burrough’s Naked Lunch. (A co-worker stole a cab after an all night soju bender, then spent a month in a Korean jail).

In three parts I’ll introduce you to Korean libations. Kev has been kind enough to taste test with me and what follows is a short description, plus our tasting notes.

Soju: The green monster. Purists down it by the shot glass, others mix it with soda, juice, and fresh fruit. At 50-90% proof, it only takes a few shots to get the party going.
M: Heavy, but a little sweet. I feel like I can breath fire, one shot is ok, but don’t know how many more I could do.
K: Rubbing alcohol. It doesn’t have much taste. Kinda like a vodka shot
Note* One friend uses soju to clean her computer.

Beakseju: From the bottle “Korean traditional wine, brewed wine unique method and 12 herbs. Bek se means 100 years, it doesn’t refer to the age of the wine but the health benefits this wine offers.” Beakseju is a rice wine mixed with ginseng, licorice, ginger, cinnamon, and herbs.
M: Smells medicinal, like ginseng. Not horrible. Kinda intriguing. But one shot is enough.
K: Herby. Tastes like the earth.

Sansa Joon: From the bottle “Sanza is a fruit bearing broad leaf plant belonging to the rose species. Red and a pleasant scent. Good for treating weak stomachs, backaches, and cut.” I had originally chosen sansa joon for its aesthetically pleasing bottle (I’ll be using it as a vase later) but now that I know it cures backaches, look out!
M: Floral smell, but not white wine floral. Light on the tongue, best ice cold. It would be good mixed with soda water or sprite.
K: Sweet.
UPDATE: last night Kev and I drank Sansa Joon with friends at a Korean restaurant. Ice cold, it was refreshin. I think I’ll get this stuff again.

Bekseju plus soju.
Many Koreans like to mix soju and beakseju. As far as we know it is called a 50-50 (oh-ship, oh-ship) bomb.
M: still tastes like medicine.
K: Very beakseju-y

Next up: Chungha, plum-wine and Makkoli.