mary eats

Having been a corner stone of the Seattle Fine Dining Scene for over 15 years, I had some preconceived notions about Palisade. Put them aside. Chef de Cuisine Robin Uyeda and Exec. Chef Mark Randolph are adding a playful touch to the Hawaiian-Polynesian-Northwest menu; a tangible sense of fun present with every dish served.

My caprese salad starter delivered sliced juicy heirloom tomatoes resting under a cascade of corn, basil, and fennel. Pillow-y slices of buffalo mozzarella topped with nitrous oxide frozen pearls of basil sauce and balsamic vinegar balanced off the plate. The combination of textures and flavors was at once delightful and delicious.

The remainder of our meal featured more flawlessly flavored dishes (though some, not so expertly executed. The Halibut cheek was overcooked, but the bed of soba noodles it rested upon smartly dressed) , duos of fish and duos of meat and a to-die-for dessert, green tea tiramisu, and a fabulous pineapple shaped baked alaska that drew ohhhs and ahhhs from everyone. Here, dining up doesn’t translate to buttoned up, from the food to the staff to the décor Palisade is absolutely approachable.

Two delicious articles close to my heart appear today in the San Francisco Chronicle, Cold Noodles and Pickles- complete with recipes (naeng myun and oisobagi kimchi).

Read, cook, eat, discuss.

All week Kevin had a hankering for kimbap, and lucky him, his weekly soccer game had us headed up north of Seattle to Lynnwood. Our destination, Sorabol, received nice- and I mean that in all the obnoxious of the word nice- reviews on local message boards, but nothing prepared us for the gem we stumbled upon.

Kevin ordered mul naeng myun, I, ddok mondu guk.. Kevin asks for kimbap, but is denied. We both know that kimbap is a lunch thing, as we have tried near every time we eat out to order it, and every time we are met with the same reply. “Sooorrrry.”

But this time is our lucky night out, as we began to dig in to our banchan, the head ajuma emerges from the kitchen, pink rubber glove clad (gloves are the rule in Washington state), carrying a plate of sogogi kimbap. (Fate would not be on Kevin’s side for his soccer game).

The banchan was our tip off. Bright, crisp tender florets of broccoli were lightly dressed in vinegar, potato shoestrings danced in a light cream dressing, jelly fish ribbons swollen with soy and sesame oil. This wasn’t your average banchan, served from prepackaged bags. Nope. This was food beaming with passion. These small side dishes demonstrated the chef’s creativity and technique, and we gobbled up near every piece.

Pulling house brined pickle spears from his soup, Kevin was near speechless. Gingerly balancing one between his chopsticks he passed one across the table and offered it to me. “Isn’t that amazing.” He asked, grinning. And it was. His mul naeng myun was hands down the best I’ve had, anywhere.

My ddokmandu guk, was a little bland, as is the nature of the soup (seeing how chili, deonjang, or any other fermented kick is absent from this recipe), but splitting into a dumpling, a host of finely diced fresh vegetables cascaded out. Aside from Gyro- an Insadong restaurant specializing in North Korean dumplings in Insadong, Seoul, I’ve never had dumplings that truly tasted of a handed down recipe.

I love Korean food for many reasons, but first and foremost are the assertive flavors, but Thursday night I was blown away at the subtle nuances this family used to woo me. It is absolutely the same is going to pick up your date and falling for her little sister; same family, just something different. I’m sure there were tons of restaurants in Seoul that could have had me at hello; I just appear to have missed them. Now I’m going steady with Sorabol.

Red Bean Therapy. My mind runs wild at the thought of what this drink could be. At first, a thick pink sticky liquid- like the bottom of a dish of pat bing su, or maybe a pink-y milk like beverage, something like strawberry quick.

What it is however, is this; a barley tea like beverage, thickened with starch (seriously, this drink is chewy almost), and boasting the health benefits of red bean.

As a diet drink, no doubt it is thickened to make you feel more full, but it’s translucent appearance doesn’t jive with it’s texture. I feel like I’m drinking jell-o before it has had time to set up. Ew. Perhaps if the drink were more opaque I’d be down.

I never loved you chameh.

In fact, when offered to me, I found you lacking in flavor and wondering if you were even ripe. But as you are the ubiquitous summer fruit of Seoul, I followed suit and ate you peeled and cubed, membrane, seeds and all.

Growing up a sucker for fresh juicy honeydew and cantaloupe, each time I raised a bejeweled cocktail fork spearing a cube of you, chameh, I for a moment envisioned a honey like nectar being released under the pressure of my bite. And each time I was met with the same result; your quizzically firm flesh, your flavor too subtle to pin down, and a lacking sweetness.

Despite my indifference towards you, I couldn’t resist your oblong yellow and silver striped beauty this last weekend. All sorts of thoughts are now running through my head as to what, if anything, to do with you.

Because your taste is more akin to the cucumber-ish white of a watermelon, I’m nixing the idea or wrapping spears in proscuitto and drizzling with balsamic reduction.

I could go the route of pickling you, chameh, a la pickled watermelon rinds, or the way of my friend Caroline’s mother who would make kimchi out of left over watermelon rind.

Taking a cue from Fuchsia Dunlop’s Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook, I could go savory and sauté you with a touch of soy, garlic, and gagnib.

Perhaps you’d do nicely in the Japanese pickling treatment Shiba-zuke?

One thread on Chow Hound suggested sprinkling spears of you with sugar and eating. Easy enough.

Thoughts? Ideas?

Saturday morning I trekked all the way to Lynnwood to stock up on Korean goodies at Paldo World, affectionately known as “North Korea”. The Korean communities of Seattle lie just to the north (lynwood) and the south (lakewood) hence the nick names.

I ran across this

Raspberry flavored noodles for Bi Bim Naeng Myeon. I don’t know. What do you think? Would you eat it?

In other Korean eating news Matt Gross, the New York Times writer who contacted me about where to eat in Korea published his article in the travel section of the Times this week. His portrait of Seoul is charming and absolutely sent me nostalgic for evenings under the orange tents sipping on soju and eating ddokboggie. Sigh.

Ssam -Korean for “to wrap”, is an ideal summer dinner; light, quick to make, and of course the opportunity to play with your food. The idea is that you wrap something, traditionally rice, garlic, and ssamjang in lettuce, fold the leafy green over into a nice little bundle and eat.

Versions of the dish are endless, you can use just about any small slices of meat, think slab bacon, thinly sliced steak, chicken tenders. Raw fish: salmon, tuna, or lightly sauteed shrimp.  Vegetables: crunchy jicima, roasted sweet potato and parsnips, cucumber or shredded red cabbage. Wrap with green leaf lettuce, butter leaf or sesame leaf. If you don’t dig ssamjang, try ssam with hoisin or harissa, sirracha or mango chutney even.

Ultimately, this could be a brilliant use of leftovers and condiments housing just a couple tablespoons of product. Pull it all out of the fridge, make some rice, wash lettuce, and viola, dinner.

After last night’s dinner of construct your own spring rolls (there is a theme here), I had a craving for more hoisin sauce. In an effort to tone down ssamjang’s punchy pungency, I decided to combine hoisin and ssamjang. The result? Delicious.  All the flavor notes were hit, sweet from the hoisin, the spicy, salty, and sour from the ssamjang.

Flat Iron Ssam

1 cup short grain sticky rice
1 Flat iron steak, trimmed of silver skin (flank steak works too)
Kosher salt and pepper
1 TBSP canola oil
1 head green leaf lettuce
3 cloves garlic
1/3 cup ssamjang
2 TBSP hoisin Sauce
teriyaki or bulgogi or Asian BBQ sauce optional*

1. Cook rice in a rice cooker or on the stove.

2. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Season steak with salt and pepper on each side and cut in half (I only do this because me frying pan is too small to accomodate the steak whole. If yours is big enough or if you are grilling your steak, then by all means, don’t cut it). Heat a sauté pan with 1 TBSP canola oil until pan until shimmering. Place steak halves in pan and sear until nice and brown on each side (about 2-3 minutes per side). Immediately transfer pan into preheated oven and cook until an internal temperature of 140 degrees is reached. About 10 minutes, sometimes more, sometimes less. Remove steaks from the pan and let sit on the cutting board to rest at least 5 minutes.

3. Separate lettuce, wash leaves, and tear off the bottom crunchy bit. Arrange leaves around a large platter.

4. Peel and slice garlic cloves uber thin. Place in a small serving dish and set on platter.

5. In a small ramekin mix together the ssamjang and the hoisin, adjusting by adding more of either until a desired taste is reached.

6. Transfer cooked rice to a serving vessel and place on platter with a serving spoon.

7. Cut the meat ¼ inch thick on the diagonal for thin slices. Place in a bowl with all the yummy juices that have escaped and place on serving platter.

8. Set table with platter, small individual plates, and chop sticks for everyone

Chef’s Notes.
Other condiments that can work if you don’t have ssamjang, are mixing together gochu jang and doenjang, or using a chunky dark miso, or use hoisin and sriracha, or harissa whatever your tastes are.

If you want to further flavor your meet, before transferring pan to oven, pour enough teriyaki, bulgogi, or Asian BBQ sauce over the meat to cover. Turn once while cooking.

To eat ssam, place one leaf of lettuce on your plate, top with a golf ball size of rice. Flatten it out a bit to make a nice surface for which to place a couple slices of meat. Top with a spoonful of ssamjang or other sauce and one or two slices of garlic. Wrap up into a nice little package, less burrito like and more envelope style. Open up and enjoy!

Northwest Palate Magazine is reporting this month the Food and Wine Magazine 2008 Best New Chef Ethan Stowell of Union, Tavolata, and How to Cook a Wolf owns and has read over 1,200 cookbooks.

Dang.

Kevin would kill me. But a new goal nonetheless