who's the boss?

the other evening, as the sun set beautifully behind the olympic mountains, as some relentlessly poppy music blared from my speakers, and as i zen’d out in the chopping of an impressively large pile of scallions, i started pondering: from where did my love of cooking spring?  

i thought about photoshopping a bunch of scallions into this pic, but reconsidered.  

it's zen enough without it.  i could cook anything to this view.

i seem to remember always loving food.  of eating voraciously the smoked haddock and the roast dinners my mum made when i was but a wee bairn.  i remember starting university and being relieved that it was self-catering accommodation, so i could eat whatever the hell i felt like eating, any night of the week.  of course, back then my repertoire consisted of about two dishes, so clearly something had to give.  amidst crazy socials and pub crawls, and even the occasional lecture on post-1900 american literature, i decided that in order to eat, i needed to learn how to cook.  i got my hands on a couple of cookbooks (no doubt delia smith), and got to studying.  

this was the book i grew up with in my childhood kitchen.  

the "joy of cooking" for the british people.  

love delia.  always have, always will

i was an English major, this was nothing new: read the text, devour the words (if you could not yet devour the food), break down the prose, formulate a strategy, and boom.  now i had a game plan (and now i was really bloody hungry).  i set about steaming artichokes, exploring local seafood choices, and attempting to perfect a piccata sauce.  what in fact eventually evolved into a deep love of cooking for others, for the somewhat selfless giving of love on a plate, first began as a completely selfish endeavor.  it was just me: a team of one.  only i ate it, only i congratulated the chef on success, only i sent back what was crap.  but i held the remote.  i had the control.

(a cherry bomb of control, if you will.  more of that to follow...)

it struck me a day or two later (perhaps in the midst of a similarly massive pile of scallions.  truly, they are the most reflective of alliums) that maybe one of the reasons i still love cooking so much (aside, of course, from my appetite) is perhaps that control.  in somewhat of a maelstrom of a life, of 3 busy menschkins with varying degrees of school and activities (and varying degrees of manners), with various house projects and life projects, with curious and occasionally aggravating medical mysteries, with figuring out what the hell to do with my life once i grow up, there isn’t a great deal of control.  do not misunderstand, this is not a plea for acceptance, nor one for sympathy.  no, no.  merely a train of thought leaving the station, for which you lucky four readers are in fact unwitting passengers (choo choo).  cooking, for me, has become a different kind of comfort.  a therapy.  something that is all me.  something that i, for once these days, am in control of.  and that, my sweet four readers, is a rare and precious thing. 

last night i found myself craving the sweet-salty-sour-hot taste sensation that is southeast-asian cuisine.  enter my new favourite culinary tome, diana henry’s “a change of appetite.”  she has a recipe for vietnamese chicken lettuce cups that ticked all of the craving boxes.  so i took control.  i told charles he was no longer in charge.  i told tony danza he most certainly was not the boss.  i took back the night from JT.  i raised my spatula high up into the sky and shouted “they may take our knives, but they’ll never take our kitchen!!”  and then, after chiding myself for being overly dramatic and referential, i cranked the peppy music as the sun set once again over those glorious mountains, and i grabbed the scallions…

mama-feels-like-cooking-vietnamese-chicken-lettuce-cups (adapted from “a change of appetite” by diana henry)

2 lemon grass stalks, outer leaves removed, inner core chopped

4 garlic cloves, chopped

salt & freshly ground pepper

1 tsp sugar

1 tbsp thai fish sauce

2 ½ tbsps canola oil

2 skinless, boneless chicken breasts

use a small food processor or blender to finely chop the lemon grass and garlic.  season with salt and pepper.   (diana uses a mortar and pestle, which all sounds very zen and lovely, but i have not the time nor the hand strength these days for that.  if i need zen, i have my scallions.)

add sugar, fish sauce and oil, pulse a few more times to blend. 

put chicken in a bowl and cover with marinade.  place in fridge to chill (lllliterally) for a few hours, or even overnight.

i told you it would return.  this is a cherry bomb pepper, 

which i used for this recipe.  ridiculously adorable.  so cute, so hot.  

i'd pop them by the bushel load, if i didn't think that it would kill me.

for sauce:

6 garlic cloves

2 red chiles, trimmed (& seeded if you don’t like the spice.  i shan’t judge you)

¾” piece of fresh ginger, peeled & chopped

2 tbsps sugar

juice of 1 juicy lime, or 2 if they’re crummy ones

3 tbsps thai fish sauce

soy sauce (optional)

put all sauce ingredients into a small food processor or blender.  blend (scraping sides down a few times) until everything is finely chopped and fully incorporated. 

(i added a little soy sauce as my kids go nuts for it, but you certainly don’t need to.  also, as 2 of 3 menschkins aren’t great with heat, i blended the sauce without the chiles first, portioned some out for them, then blended the remaining sauce with the chiles for the rest of us.  2 sauces, almost no extra work.  win/win.)

toppings.  any combination of:

1 slightly underripe mango, peeled and cut into matchsticks

2 medium carrots, peeled and cut into matchsticks

½ cucumber, cut into matchsticks

1 cup bean sprouts (already matchstick-sized!  lucky you!)

scallions, thinly-sliced

fresh mint leaves

fresh basil leaves

1 head of butter lettuce, leaves separated but left whole

remove chicken from marinade and place on either a preheated grill or a ridged grill pan on the stove.  grill on both sides until cooked through.  

clearly this depends on the heat of your grill/pan, also the size of your chicken breasts, but roughly 20 mins total.  obviously check for doneness and don’t sue me if it’s still pink in the middle:

that's right.  pink in the middle.  boom. 

time to serve.  place some of the sliced chicken and whichever of the vegetables and herbs you fancy in the middle of a lettuce leaf and roll up.  dip, or drizzle with sauce, and away you go.  and if you fear the absence of carbs, some steamed rice goes brilliantly.

we're eating a rainbow, people!

enjoy with a sense of great personal satisfaction, and preferably with “take back the night” playing in the background. 

the challenge

things have been changing of late in the glasses-kitchen.  one crazy day early this year, john wayne (or was it clint eastwood?) walked in, said something about “howdy” and “purty lady” (i giggled, according to the script).  but then he said that the times they were a-changing, and that the winds of change were blowing a different tune (cowboys always mix their metaphors).  i raised my finger to the wind, in a most dramatic way, to sense what was going on, and i felt it.  and sure enough, since then it’s been a wild & wacky medical ride for this aspiring cook.  for better or for worse, this has led to me changing the way that i’m eating (or, more importantly, cooking).

pain or icky-meds not being an option, i became determined to try to find another way.  i asked my sweet sous chefs their thoughts.  “whack-a-back, jo; smack-a-jack, yo…” said nikki minaj.  too true, said i, that WOULD be a sucky way to live.  macklemore was a sweet and inspirational shoulder to cry on, threw some rhymes like the ceiling could not, in fact, hold him, but offered no greater insight.  so, instead i turned to the thing that has nourished, inspired, and fed my soul as much as my body over the years.  i turned to food.  i decided to steel myself for potential mockery from peers, from derisive side-eyes in restaurants, and for the bummer realization that i wouldn’t be making homemade pasta anytime soon: i gave up the magic carpet ride that is gluten.   

but you know what?   so far so good.  i’m back to being able to use a can opener again (and, more importantly, a corkscrew).  i’m back to being able to participate in full-on street-fights, instead of mere slap-fests.   …well, in my scrappy mind, at least.  you know, such as when you hold the door open for someone who refuses to say thank you, and you then embark upon a 15-minute fantasy of kicking their boorish behinds (when in actuality just mutter “you’re welcome” in an acerbic manner.  that’ll show them!  aholes…) 

back to it.  rather than wallowing in the dearth of wheat that is my new culinary map, i’m thinking of it as a challenge.  i challenge myself to not notice a difference in taste, in texture, in the general gastronomic existence that is my life.  and though i have yet to find a GF pasta that doesn’t resemble overcooked cardboard, i feel like i’m well on my way.  i don’t claim to be an authority in the field, nor a pioneer in the research; i’m merely trying to traverse the gluten minefield that is my new menu plan.  it might not be forever, but it is right now.  and the fact that i could type all of this using my fingers makes it completely worth its while.  gluten, for now at least, is my bitch, bitch.  word…

my new favourite GF endeavours… (the first of a series)

brown rice quiche with chicken, kale, and preserved lemon

gluten free girl, sounding somewhat like a superhero (and, trust, i have a soft spot for that), seems to have some good instincts in the culinary world.  go forth, GFG, and rid the world of the Wheated Warrior!  this is her quiche recipe, using brown rice for the crust.  love it.  maybe i didn’t form my crust quite right, but i’d probably use about half the filling next time.  spillage...   but still, deeeeelicious.  (more so than a speeding freight train!!  dum dum DUMMM!) 

here’s the recipe, linked from elsewhere.  my fingers might be getting better, but they're still starting to hurt after all this typing, so here we go:

http://national.cleanplates.com/tag/lemons/

and, for what it's worth, those lemons...  oh, those lemons...  i put them on burgers, on salads, in omelets, sometimes i just snack on them out of the jar.  because, goddammit, i love food.  i enjoy the deliciousness.  i am (mostly) gluten free, hear me roar!!

seoul train

i have had many food crushes over the years.  a tart for tarts, a strumpet for crumpets, when it comes to food i am most definitely a lover, not a fighter.  some of these crushes started early in life (i never met a pickle i didn’t like).  some came to me slowly and shyly as a teen, as i batted my eyelashes across the classroom at plates of shrimp and clams and oysters, realizing them not the tattooed bad boys i had previously thought.  “JF heart habanero 4EVA” was lazily doodled on the back of my hand as i climbed onto the bad boy chile’s motorcycle, tossed my hair over my shoulder, and we screeched off together to the tune of some aerosmith song or another.  but some of these food crushes found me later in my years, creeping up behind me with broad shoulders, soulful eyes, and surprising me with their passion and vigor.  (muy escandaloso!)

korean food falls under the umbrella of these more recent obsessions.  i was woefully blinkered to its existence in my younger years, but crashing into my life it eventually came.  and now i find myself googling memes of bibimbap with grumpy kittens, and looking up pictures of kimchi in its knickers (what?  i don’t do that).  

(for the record, this is hands-down my favourite kimchi in the world, by the way.  oh, firefly, you had me at "fermented.")

i suppose david chang and ed lee would probably be the clooney and damon of this culinary crush; the le bon and the taylor.  (and they can fight between themselves over who gets to be whom.)  but recently, in small part to top chef, and in larger part to his engrossing memoir/cookbook “LA Son,” i’ve been spending much more quality time with roy choi (the boy so nice, they named him twice.  kind of). 

roy crushes hard on his hometown of los angeles in the same way that i do for my adopted hometown of seattle.  he lusts after the spindly palm trees the way i do the hearty evergreens; he drinks up the gritty vistas of k-town the way i do the sun setting over the olympic mountains.  home is, as they say, where the heart is, and roy’s heart can be found smack bang at the cross streets of wilshire and western.  combined with his traditional korean roots, this deeply ingrained love of his hometown and all of its latino influences essentially defines choi's culinary viewpoint, and epitomizes what eventually became his signature dish: korean tacos.  brilliant.  perhaps less “fusion” so much as “mash-up,” choi takes the best of both cuisines, and makes them sing together in a perfect duet you never imagined possible.  before my very eyes (if 1200 miles to the south), my crushes were colliding in a way that you only hear about in 90’s soft-rock ballads.  add that to the theory that i believe pretty much everything tastes better with kimchi, and suddenly i knew that roy and i have had this date with each other from the beginning…

however, long-distance relationships can be hard (trust me, i know), so for those of us who do not live within striking distance of the kogi food truck fleet of deliciousness, we must turn to our pantries, our asian supermarchés and our mercados, and we must do our best to make our own choi-inspired mash-up.  i decided to tackle his caramelized kimchi & pork-stuffed pupusas and his kalbi beef “east LA” tacos.  the pupusas are made with fresh masa, but fried; a tamale meets a pancake.  MY pupusas, however, were more like brick meets mortar.  heavier than a beret-sporting teenager tackling nietzsche, my pupusas were less delicacy than murder weapon.  pish posh, let us poo poo the pupusas and leave them to roy choi and his boys.  onto the real deal, the very thing that set us down this road in the first place.  put some seoul into your soul, and let’s make some tacos.  and unlike so many of our teenage crushes, this one shall not disappoint.

kogi-style korean beef tacos (inspired by roy choi's recipes and general world outlook)

kalbi marinade:

1 cup soy sauce

½ cup brown sugar

¼ cup mirin

1/3 cup sesame oil

1 onion, roughly chopped

Small knob of ginger, roughly chopped

3 scallions, roughly chopped

2 tbsp. sesame seeds

(roy uses a chopped up kiwi fruit and asian pear as well, but i had none, and thought it a fine marinade in their absence)

1.5 lbs flanken-cut short ribs (or other beef of your choosing.  i’ve also used hangar steak)

whizz marinade ingredients in a blender until mostly smooth.  pour over beef and marinade for 4 hours or up to overnight.

1 cup shredded green cabbage

1 cup shredded romaine lettuce

½ cup thinly sliced scallions (green and white parts)

fresh cilantro

fresh corn tortillas

salsa rojo or salsa verde, or both if you’re loca like me

chile vinaigrette:

1 tbsp. kochugaru (or red pepper flakes in the event that you not have a pantry of weird Korean ingredients on hand.  it happens)

¼ cup soy sauce

2 tbsps. sesame oil

½ tbsp. diced ginger

2 scallions, roughly chopped

3 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

2 tbsps. sugar

1 tbsp. salt

a few grinds of black pepper

1 cup rice wine vinegar

½ cup canola oil

place all vinaigrette ingredients into blender and puree.  (makes more than you need, but dressing is ridiculously delicious and will keep in the fridge for future adventures in salading.)

toss shredded cabbage, lettuce & scallions with some of the chile dressing in a small bowl and set aside.

get photo-bombed by cheeky 5 year-old whilst trying to take awfully & terribly serious food pictures.

remove beef from marinade and cook on preheated grill  to desired doneness.  flanken ribs need only a couple of minutes per side; hangar steak reaches melty perfection for me at 4 minutes, flip, then 3.  or, you know, yada yada, USDA, 145 degrees, yada, hashtag-don’t-sue-me.  let rest for a few minutes then thinly slice against the grain.

heat tortillas and pile high with beef, slaw, cilantro, and slather with as much hot sauce as you can take.  

and as roy says, pour a little on the ground for the homies, too.  word.