Somehow I managed to get out of Korea with out ever trying Jok bal, or pig’s feet braised in soy sauce, on purpose.
The mosaic of lean meat, congealed fat, skin and dark meat, sliced thin on the bias led my stomach into a repetitious flip-flop, each time Kevin passed the strip of trotter restaurants near the Shilla on our way back from Dongdaemoon Market. Looking more like a deformed animal fetus doomed to a formaldehyde filled mason jar on a high school Biology teacher’s shelf, I never regretted not trying it, until, of course, now.
“I wanna eat something crazy,” my friend remarked as we looked over the menu at HoSoonYi in Edmonds. Soondubu, delicious, yes but crazy? No. Dwachigalbi, delicious yes, but again, crazy? No. Jok bal. Delicious? Couldn’t tell you, but crazy. Indeed, feet people. Feet.
I would like to add that the jok bal was listed on the menu under the header, “Sides for Hard Drinkers.” Such am I, drinking soju at 2 in the afternoon on a Thursday.
When the word passed my lips, our server, a petite middle-aged woman looked up in surprise, eyebrows arched near up to her hairline.
“Really?” “You want jokbal,”
“Yeah,” I replied sheepishly, “Soju too.”
“I like you” she snickered as she pointed her pen at me. At least, I thought, if I didn’t like it, I had earned some street cred with the Edmonds ajumas.
As it always does, it food began to arrive in a flood. First the banchan: baechu kimchi, then a more fresh cabbage kimchi, bean sprouts, one with the gochu-maru treatment one without, soy braised hotdog of the sea (odang), pickled mu, acorn jelly and roasted potatoes.
Then jok bal presented itself with the kimchi soondubu jjigae (not the best I’ve tried- that accolade still goes to Blue Ginger in Bellevue). My friend and I looked at each other, the jok bal, and the pink, fermented shrimp dipping sauce and dug in.
Sadly I have to report, the jok bal was cold. And the flavors I expected, soy, ginger, anise, but instead the gelatinous slices tasted pleasantly gamey with a slight commercially produced air. While we didn’t wolf it down (the same went for the dwachi galib which was under seasoned and bland) I snagged up the leftovers and am hoping to produce charcuterie greatness in the from of a jok bal sandwich for lunch today. What a little mayo can’t do.
I’m interested in trying jok bal again. If anyone has any NW suggestions for such please pass them on. If you want to see jok bal culture in Seoul, check out this video by Soul Glow.
Yesterday, while picking up some freshly sharpened knives in Kirkland, I spied yet another frozen yogurt joint.
Ce Flore, who serves up “Italian Style Frozen Yogurt” (do Italian’s do frozen yogurt?), just opened to the public this week. With a staggering selection of toppings –including mochi, yogurt flavors like pomegranate, raspberry, blackberry, or green tea, and a product with a full body and nice mouthfeel Ce Fiore could leave its competitors out in the cold.
While enjoying my frozen delight I noticed the menu boasted “snow ice” and a suspiciously familiar photo of pat bing su. That’s right, that strangely delicious combo of sweet red beans, shaved ice, yogurt, and ddok balls drizzled with sweetened condensed milk and dotted with tinned fruit cocktail has found it’s way into Seattle. Hallelujah.
Ce Flore
111 Lake Street, Kirkland WA, 98063
425-889-5860
As I write my belly is swollen and sore. Thoughts of breakfast are shocked into reality by stabbing pains of fullness. Memories of fillet mignon with foie gras butter, seated vanilla encrusted hamachi with osetra caviar and arugula and cilantro micro-greens make their presence known. All the plates seemed so small, but man are they coming back to haunt me now.
Last night to celebrate my and Kevin’s 5th wedding anniversary my parents treated us to the Columbia Winery’s wine makers dinner at Meritage, in the Redmond Town Center. My snob-dar instantly switched on when I was told that we would be eating in the Marriot, in Microsoft-y Redmond none the less. Hotel restaurants a: have a reputation for being over priced, over taxed and not very good, and b: location, location, location? A hotel in a shopping center near Microsoft? Not exactly a see and be seen type of joint.
I was proven wrong however, as executive Chef Ken Harper and Wine Maker Kerry Norton put out quite a spread. Our server, cute and friendly, could have used a crash course in the menu, as every question I asked, “What is this sauce?” “What kind of caviar is this?” “What kind of mushroom is this?” was answered only after she ran off to the chef to ask.
This morning, still a little starry-eyed over this fantastic meal I ate at the Marriot, THE MARRIOT, I am questioning how long I will have to fast before I can eat again.
The Menu
agnozing over the beef or the chicken or the pork
Vanilla encrusted hamachi with osetra caviar, micro greens, and a sweet pea puree. This truly was the essence of the seal, light, salty, sweet, and I wanted more.
The second course started off with good intentions, broccoli soup poured tableside over spiced pecans and cream fraiche, yet instead of velvety soup flowing out of the crock, lumpy broccoli puree plopped into the bowls, barely making a circle around the garnish. The taste was fine, but for fine dining, it should have been smoother and more refined.
The broccoli soup was paired with a 2005 Columbia Valley Chardonnay that had been frozen cold by the restaurant. The most unsuccessful course of the menu.
Beets topped with a delicate fleur de sel, green with shaved black truffle tossed in a Gewurztraminer vinaigrette, paired with a tres fruity 2006 Columbia Valley Gewurztaminer. Presentation on the plate was askew. I think a smaller plate, a square plate, or a streak of something to the right of the beets would have filled the void nicely.
Our third course offered duck confit and lobster mushrooms layered upon each other in a napoleon style, crowned with a segmented orange and savory hollandaise sauce. If our first dish was the essence of the sea, then this dish was the essence of the earth. The lobster mushroom, my first taste of such, was toothsome, but over powered by the hollandaise. The fig and duck, were perfect, a nice game-y flavor complimented by the sweet of the fig. This we ate with a 2003 Red Wilow Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon.
The pear sorbet meant to refresh our palate, was to sweet for my taste, and, frankly, too much of it. This ain’t Baskin-Robbins 31 Flavors ya’ll. Ding dang.
At this point in the evening I have consumed too many glasses of wine to keep up my critique and constant analyzing of flavors. Now passing judgement came in one of two grunts. Mmmm, and uh.
My fillet mignon, topped with fois grais butter and resting on a bed of blue cheese and caramelized onion whipped potatoes, asparagus (really? In September?), and syrah peppercorn demi-glace. Mmmmmmm
Kevin and my Father’s roasted garlic maple brined pork tenderloin on a bed of clam polenta with broccolini. Uh. The pork was fab, but that clam risotto was like a mouth full of sea water plus corn. I guess if you like clam dip you’d be into it.
My mother’s prosciutto wrapped, duxelle wild mushroom stuffed roasted airlpane breast of chicken served atop butternut squash risotto. I think they could have cleaned up that bone sticking out of the breast a little better. One of those white poofy things reserved for turkey drumsticks at least.
Uh.
Nothing compared to those mashed potatoes. Which were heavenly paired with a 2001 Red Wilow Vineyard Milestone Merlot and a 2002 Red Willow Vineyard Syrah.
Dessert was a cappuccino joconde (which, after many google searches, turned up pictures of the Mona Lisa- even after eating it I’m still confused as to what it was- a cake, with a truffle like chocolate center), too heavy after the main course, but the port it was paired with went down fine, -probably the reason why I don’ have a picture of it.
The Marriot. Who knew?
It took me a long time to get hip to the yogurt craze when I was living in Seoul. More prolific than Starbucks, Red Mangos dotted the city (every time I saw the sign I keep hoping it was a new Thai restaurant). Finally I jumped on that bandwagon, though never fully. I’m a coffee girl, rarely do I crave frozen desserts. It constantly perplexed me, these plastic Ikea light fixture dotted shops, pumping out massive amounts of frozen yogurt topped with fruit loops, fruit, and “jelly” to school children, young adults, and ajumas in the dead of winter.
Thanks to the Pinkberry craze, Seattle now has Crazyberry, a spot on copy of one of Korea’s many frozen yogurt joints, down to the modernistic chairs and Ikea-esque lights.
At their Broadway location you’ll only find three flavors: strawberry, green tea, and plain. Toppings are slim in size and selection, mostly fresh fruit, slivered almonds, granola, crushed oreos, fruity pebbles (I didn’t think those were still being made!) and chocolate chips, and cost a whopping dollar extra. I’ve read complaints about the Pinkberry’s premium prices, but 1 buck for a tablespoon of blueberries? As if.
However, a complimentary poky/peppero definitively sticks out of the mound of yogurt (or should I say hollow mound as they swirl up the yogurt around the edges of the cup) like a flag at the peak of an Everest expedition. A nice touch.
Crazyberry does have competition, in addition to Shnoo yogurt in Kirkland, Bellevue Square will be the new home of Red Mango. I wonder if they’ll carry the yogurt filled ddok? Can’t wait!
It is no secret that cupcakes are the IN dessert of the moment. From whimsical wedding cakes redeux to the shopping snack that is just too cute to pass up, cupcakes are the new double-tall-vanilla-non-fat-no-foam-extra-hot-latte. Who’s Starbucks? That would be Sprinkles, the little Beverly Hills cupcake shop that could.
Featured in every pop culture media outlet, from the NY Times to NPR, to In Style and In Touch, Sprinkles is moving on up, and out of Beverly Hills’ palm tree lined boulevards and into neighborhoods near you. In addition to new stores opening up in cities across America, the home baker can partake in the madness by picking up a package of Sprinkles Cupcake mix from Williams-Sonoma, for 14 greenbacks. Which is just what I did last week. Of course I needed the requisite muffin tins (I opted for the mini-muffin tin, smaller means I can eat more).
Sprinkles claim to fame is their minimalist presentation, a la Jill Sander if you will. Cup cakes in the sunshine state are frosted in a flat top crowned with a “modernist” double layer candy dot. My container included 12 such dots, which on taste inspection, closely resembled craft candy, having decorated a gingerbread house in 1984, still on display in your grandmother’s china cabinet. Very untasty.
After mixing in my eggs, milk, and lemon zest into the baking mix the cup cakes went upstairs to bake and I set about to make my frosting. I was instructed to sift my three cups of powdered sugar, and I set out with good intentions, fat skimmer in hand, but after sift or two, grew impatient and dumped in the powdered sugar in the mixing bowl.
This exercise in cupcake baking, I should add, is the longest workout my Kitchen Aid mixer has seen ever. Shaking like one of those 1950’s weight loss machines, I could see why Cooks Illustrated recently rated this series with a “not recommended.” Rather than puffing out over the sides and creating a rounded mound to frost, my cupcakes shrank a tad after cooking.
As suggested by Sprinkles, I used a small offset spatula to create their iconic flat top rounded edge. Sinking my teeth into the dense lemon sponge cake I wasn’t impressed. The sugar sent my mouth screaming for the toothbrush. To me the cake felt heavy, but Kevin thought otherwise, happily wolfing down more than his fair share. Which brings me to a question. Does food taste better if you don’t cook it?
Years ago, I remember seeing Aquavit chef Marcus Samuelsson on Martha Stewart Living long before it was the participatory live talk show it is today. Together, Samuelsson and Stewart, in her sedated kitchen studio demonstrated how to make aquavit, the iconic Swedish spirit, placing eye-catching vibrant berries, lemons, dill, and peppercorns in wide mouth display jars. This was around the time that placing various spices and vegetables in ornamental jars filled with vinegar or oils was a popular craft activity.
Every country has that one drink. Drunk straight, from a shot glass that will, according to my father, light your eyeballs on fire, or put hair on your chest. Korea, soju. US, Whiskey. Russia, Vodka, and the Nordic countries, it’s Aquavit. Distilled from grain or potatoes, commercial Aquavit, from the Latin water of life, is colorless, though generally flavored with caraway seeds. It is served chilled, and swallowed in one gulp.
This year for my birthday my friend Erin gave me a copy of Samuelsson’s cookbook Aquavit, and fast as my fingers would go I flipped to the recipes for aquavit. There, beautifully photographed and as lustrous as I remembered, were the glass jars, filled with tinted red liquid from the vodka, or cubes of lemon, lemongrass and ginger. While the rest of the cookbook’s Swedish Fusion dishes proved alluring, the itch to make aquavit demanded a long overdue scratch, and I chose lime aquavit as my foray into the world of mixology.
The first hurdle was finding potato vodka. Samuelsson recommends using potato based vodka because, “it has the clearest, cleanest flavor.” With Washington state liquor taxes and limited selection, I sent my mother in law searching for potatoes on a business trip. She returned with an Idaho produced potato based vodka. $30.00 for 1 liter.
Unable to find the elegant wide mouth jars reminiscent of old fashioned candy shop jars, I opted for a liter mason jar. “If the jar you use for infusing the vodka is attractive, it can serve as a centerpiece on your table or on a sideboard while the vodka steeps.” In it I stuffed lime zest, sliced limes, kaffir lime leaves, peeled and diced ginger, and finally the vodka. Mason jars are attractive, right?
Next I placed the jar on a ledge to sit for 8 long weeks.
Despite Auqavit’s place as the country’s national beverage, the strong elixir is generally reserved for pairing with special foods, with smoked and pickled herring, or important times, at Yulebord, the Christmas Buffet. (And no, you can’t buy it at IKEA). In bars today it is served chased by a beer.
Finally, the date on the calendar matched with the fading ink scribbled on the jagged piece of masking tape adhered to the bottom of the jar, August 8th.
My next hurdle, finding a jar to decant into. The vodka, soaking up the color from the limes had turned a vibrant yellow-green, redolent of freshly squeezed limes and crushed ginger. Kevin and I placed the decanted aquavit into the freezer and waited.
The next evening found us with sake glasses full to the brim with our home brew. Gingerly Kevin touched it to his lips, took a sip, and instantly began coughing, as a teenager would with their first taste of whiskey. “Whoooooooo, babe.” He remarked once he had caught his breath. “That’s strong.” Dejected I looked down at my cup and took a reluctant sip, letting the smallest amount pass through my lips. Warming spice instantly filled my mouth and nasal cavity. Ok. Maybe I used a little too much ginger. Lime eventually made its presence known as the icy liquid slid its was down the back of my throat.
I looked at Kevin, now fully recovered, and raised my eyebrows, he responded with a head crock to the side. I nodded and refilled our glasses.
The slogan of Savor Seattle couldn’t be truer. When I first started this blog I was living in Korea and was intrigued by near everything involving food. As an outsider I was equally captivated in a package of dried ramyeon noodles as dinner at the elegant Season’s restaurant in the Hilton Seoul. Everyday, whether on my 10-minute break between classes or after or before work, my fingers flew over the keyboard, writing up restaurants or grocery store finds.
Moving home it has been hard to rekindle that wanderlust spark. Having been gone for 4 years, there is much to Seattle that has changed, a new restaurant scene, more highbrow grocery stores, and an emergence of ethnic grocery stores and food carts to reckon with. But having grown up here, it is hard to see past the nostalgia, and focus in on what is staring you in the face. My excuse for two months of absent blogging.
This week Erin (also a long time WA state-r though recently transplanted to the East Coast) and I signed up for the Savor Seattle’s food tour of the Pike’s Market. Hardly a sight new to either of us, I’ve been wandering the cobbled streets since I could remember. When I interned downtown, I ate in the market nearly every day, filling up on mini-doughnuts and potato and cheese piroshky. And I think the day Kevin knew I’d be his wife was the day I led him by the hand, first to the shy giant for some vanilla ice cream, then to Starbucks for a fresh shot of espresso, then to the sidewalk, where we sat, pouring our steaming shots over our vanilla ice cream, creating instant affogatoes.
As this year marks the Market’s 100th birthday, I realized that while I know the tastes of the market, I don’t know the stories, and there are literally stories behind near every piece of tile in the market. So, at 9:45 in the morning, Erin and I met Angela our tour guide, strapped on our earpieces, and feasted on words and tastes.
During the two-hour tour, Angela fed us with market trivia, my favorite involving eggplants, and a tiled love letter (separately). Tour destinations included places I’d frequented many times before, but never got past the exchange of goods for cash. This time, however, we chatted with the fishmongers and were playfully harassed by a vegetable hawker. We ate, we drank, and somewhere, caught that illusive spark of inspiration. For Erin, it was stocking up on some serious Washington State products before heading back to NYC, for me that hunger to know and write about everything I was seeing and tasting.
