Kim makes kimchi, and it is a great success

Spoiler alert, right?

This past Christmas, Jim's parents generously bought me a cookbook on preserving, called Canning for a New Generation: Bold, Fresh Flavors for the Modern Pantry by Liana Krissoff and Rinne Allen (for more info, click here) that I had been eying for a few months. The thought process was as follows:

--> "I have all these bulk spices that I bought for a steal*, where am I to store them??"
--> "Oh hey, look at these mason jars, these look like they would be good to store spices in. And I can label them myself!"
--> "I didn't realize how many spices I use. Need more jars."
--> "What am I going to do with all these mason jars!? Maybe I can learn to make jam..."

*For the record, if you intend to buy spices of any kind, look into local specialty markets, etc. I buy a lot of my spices at an Indian grocery store and save a ton of money.

Aren't you grateful for that fascinating look into my lizard brain? (Award yourself 5 points if you get that reference.)

Well, needless to say, as a 20-something with two jobs, I haven't quite gotten around to the jam. I've bookmarked, I've gotten excited, I've had the greatest of intentions. And this book makes it look so easy. But I'm not there yet. Where I am is here: kimchi. The recipe is simple, the reward enticing. And it just seemed so cool. So one evening, after work, I got out my camera and some veggies, and I played in the kitchen.

I used Napa cabbage, as the recipe specified, and had some fun capturing the texture. It look so crinkly and soft, unlike the thicker leaves of other cabbages.

I chopped it up

and put it in a big bowl (lucky find at my local Marshall's).

Added some radishes

and some scallions,

(such pretty colors!)

and then I added the recommended mixture of water and salt, put a plate on top of the veggies, and weighted it down with my cast iron skillet. Then, against my better judgement, I left it on the counter overnight.

Easy so far, no?

The next day, I drained the veggies, saving the water/salt liquid mixture, and started with the spicy component.

I bought Korean chili powder online because I could not find a specialty store local enough to me. Amazon is great for little things like this.

I created a paste with the chili powder, some grated garlic and ginger, and some anchovies (I know, I know, but it works!)

and mixed it in with the now-slightly-softened veggies.

(Delicious mess.)

Then I carefully transferred the flavored veggies to a large jar. I repurposed a giant pickle jar and it worked beautifully.

I would be lying if I told you that this was a neat process. It's all about how much time you take...if I hadn't been so excited, using tongs to transfer the veggies would have been much cleaner (leftover evidence in lower righthand corner).

Lastly, I added back in the water/salt combo just until it covered the veggies, then filled a gallon-sized Ziploc bag with the rest of the liquid to weight the mixture down (and sort of act as a seal, since I wouldn't be putting the lid to the jar on).

And, again against my better judgment, here he sat, unrefrigerated and uncovered...for a week!

Now, I was sincerely worried about two things: that I was putting something on my shelf for a week that would start decomposing (it didn't) and that all of that pickling action would stink up my apartment (it didn't). I would give the area next to my kitchen shelf a little sniff every morning to make sure nothing off was happening--most likely making me look like I had a nervous tick--and everything turned out better than I expected.

I made kimchi! When I finally removed the plastic Ziploc after a week, I smelled a distinct vinegar-y pickle smell, and I hadn't used a drop of vinegar! Chemistry is fun! It felt so satisfying to have this work out. I've made myself kimchi friend rice in the past few weeks, and have plans to make the recommended kimchi and pork dumplings from the book soon. As you can see, the recipe makes a ton of kimchi, so if you have any like-minded friends, dole it out! Who doesn't love free kimchi?

the cure for what ails ya

We've been feeling a little...lousy in this household for the past few days. Blame it on the change of seasons, other sick people, kids starting school and creating little colds that fly around in the cooling air of early- to mid-September. We've got it, whatever it is, and it's no fun. The image of curling up on a couch with your love, mugs of tea or coffee in-hand, ready to put your feet up, watch some TV, and recover isn't nearly as enjoyable when you're actually sick.

So this weekend, to fix ourselves up a bit, I set about making a cure-in-soup-form. Having never actually made homemade chicken soup before (gasp!), I didn't have a go-to recipe for sick days. I did, however, remember reading a recipe from the Bon Appetit website calling itself Chinese Noodle Soup. I used this as my inspiration, and used what I had around the house to make the soup (because no one wants to go to the grocery store when they're sick).

I have to admit, it was very easy to make, and so much more nourishing that anything I could have heated up in a can. If you're feeling lousy, but still feel up to, well, being upright, give this soup a try. Placebo effect or not, Jim and I both felt better for it.

*(Note: These photos are the first on what, I am sure, will be a long and exciting project of learning to use my DSLR. I've not edited them in any way, so things can only get better from here!)

First, you'll want to marinate your chicken. I used soy sauce, Shaoxing rice wine, and sesame oil.

If you have an Asian grocery store within reasonable driving distance, it's worth your time to pop over and poke around. Sesame oil, for one, is an expensive ingredient, but if you go to the source, it's amazing the deal you'll get. That bottle cost me $8, and is four times the size of the $8 bottle I would get in my local supermarket.

Slice the chicken up into thin strips, and pour the flavorings overtop. I used about a tablespoon of each.

At this point, put the chicken in the fridge and migrate over to the couch. Recover a little, have some tea.

When you're feeling better, head back to the kitchen to start the soup. Mince some garlic (I used two cloves) and ginger (about 2 tablespoons), and mix it with some tahini (2 tablespoons), rice vinegar (1 tablespoon), and chili garlic sauce (about 2 teaspoons). We need some ginger to cure us, and some spice to clear us out.

Ahem. Sorry for that.

I used my microplane on the garlic and the ginger because it makes fast work of mincing. When you're sick, you need fast work.

Garlic. Love it.

Mix this paste up and keep it ready. This is going to flavor the broth a lot, and give you the kick that you'll need. Spice is part of the cure.

Now, I used bok choy as the greens of this soup, but I think you could really use anything sturdy enough to stand up to a soup.

Rinse out the grit and chop it up into ribbons.

Saute the bok choy in a little sesame oil, then add some chicken broth or stock, really whatever you have. I had some stock and then added water to get enough liquid, I would say at least 6 cups.

Cooking when you're sick is alllll about estimating.

Bring this to a boil and then add in the chicken, with the marinade, and that wonderful, flavorful paste. Now the broth just looks like it can cure you.

I boiled some soba noodles and added them to the soup. Simmer everything together for a few minutes and you're ready.

See, that wasn't so hard, was it?

Scoop yourself out some nourishing goodness.

If you're me, you'll stir in some more chili garlic sauce to pack a bigger punch. Get that blanket, get on the couch, and get better.

I know we can all use a soup like this during the changing of the seasons, when our immune systems are a bit on the flimsy side. You can find the recipe I used here and mold it to what you have in the kitchen. I really enjoyed how flavorful the broth was, it cut through any lack of my sense of taste caused by my sickness, which is invaluable. No one wants to eat food that can't be tasted!

Another something invaluable? Leftovers. I'll be okay for the rest of the weekend, staying in and recovering (and yes, completely jealous of the gorgeous weather and longing to be at an orchard or a farm). Until next weekend...

So what have I been up to?

Well.

I've been doing a lot of this:

that is to say, reading (although I have been playing with my DSLR, I'm just not...how do you say...confident enough to start talking about that Just Yet). I'm reading a three-novel volume of Stephen King's earliest works. This is Jim's copy and, I think, was picked up at a thrift store, but you can find it here if it interests you--and it should. I'm reading Carrie now (just started, actually) but I found The Shining disturbing and intriguing--and much different from the movie in some very important ways. Salem's Lot was a wonderful example of how rhythmic King's writing is, it just carried me away. I loved it.

(The same table, a few days later.) I've also been working very, very hard on some projects at home. Keeps me out of trouble.

I have a new-found love of my iPhone camera and, more importantly, the incredible view of the sky that Jim and I are lucky enough to have from one of our many windows. I mean, look at that.

(An aside: I vow to teach myself at least enough Photoshop to be able to erase that telephone line from these fantastic pictures. And failing to do that, will bake enough chocolate chip cookies for the Comcast people that they will move it for me.)

I'm glad we had this talk.

Here are some more lovelies:

This pink and blue one kills me. It's like cotton candy on fire. Stunning.

I've been up to some fermenting. Jim's mom and dad bought me Canning for a New Generation for Christmas this year, and while I've been eying the jams, I haven't gotten around to testing any out. I did, however, jump headfirst into making kimchi!

More details later. (Spoiler alert: it was a success!)

In "apartment improvement" news, I've been sloooowly updating my frame collage wall:

(Apologies for the photo quality...will get a better one when conditions allow). I'm taking my time because, well...frame are expensive! Buying one is no biggie, but when you have a larger space to fill, it gets pricey. It's a work in progress, but every frame that I add makes me grin as I walk by.

I've also taken up my wings again and started working Saturdays in the bakery to help out during the busy season. The cake fairy has returned!

And she's tempted to wear costume wings to work.

And now, what we've all been waiting for:

Fall is coming! Although not as soon as this tree behind my apartment seems to think it is. It was 84 degrees when I took this photo, but smells like crunchy leaves. The anticipation for fall weather is killing me, but so is the absolute dread of winter commutes.

Let's not talk about it.

And finally, I've been hanging out an awful lot with this elegant lady:

Just kidding about the elegant part. She was off the couch and rolling around on the carpet within moments of this grainy photo being taken. But I love her!

I think, before, I got a little too caught up in the bigness of what starting a blog could mean, and not enough in the funness.* So my sincerest apologies for not being around. Change is in the air!

More soon. Much more.

*That's me, making up words since 1987.

I love lamp

If you recognize the movie quote in the title of this post, you and I are going to get along just fine.

Having lived in our apartment for more than a year now, I've come to the point where "getting settled" has been upgraded to the more adult "decorating," and let me tell you, I'm very excited! I'm getting to know my style, and getting to make my space more comfortable and unique in the process.

Thankfully, my style is very much compatible with Jim's, and I've been trustingly granted artistic license to follow my every whim in making this apartment a home (famous last words on his part I'm sure). But let's be real here. I'm operating on a strict just-starting-out-with-massive-student-loan-debt budget. It's cringe-worthy, but in an effort to see the silver lining (glass half-full and all that rosy stuff), I'm seeing this as an opportunity to be creative.

So I started with a lamp. In a design sense, I've never really liked lamps. Don't get me wrong, I like being able to see what I'm doing. Curling up in an oversize armchair with a lamp at the perfect angle for tucking into a good book is my idea of a good time. But decorating with lamps just seems so...technical to me. Lamps have cords and need to be plugged in to offer any function, which confines them to walls and corners.

But what I had was a lamp. Specifically, one of those dingy, heavy, curvy, brass structures sporting a burnt, dusty, beige lampshade that does nothing for the aesthetic of a room--and in my case, did not even work for lack of a light bulb. It was free, donated to our cause by Jim's generous sister Amy, and while I was initially less than thrilled with how it looked in our place, I saw potential! I've been learning, as I go, to see the bones of a piece of furniture and to appreciate what could be, instead of what currently is.

Here is the lamp, artfully displayed on my parents' driveway atop some leftover cardboard boxes:

  

Not much to look at, but the bones! They look good. So I got to spray painting (after taping up the electrical equipment), oil rubbed bronze as my color of choice, and was left with something much improved:

 

It's always hard to see oil rubbed bronze in photos for what truly does, but let me tell you, it looks deep, shimmery, and elegant. I was already thrilled at this point in the process, and I couldn't wait to get it home, slap a new lampshade on its head, and start admiring my handiwork. 

I have to say, the result is much more impressive than I could have imagined (if I do say so myself). The oil rubbed bronze paint makes the lamp look so classic, and so much more polished than the dingy brass. Thanks to Amy and some spray paint, this little corner of the apartment has gotten a serious upgrade!

If it weren't for those cords...

A delicious experiment

I've never been much for sweets. You can say I take after my dad (whose constant and often mimicked response when asked to share dessert is "no, thank you"), or you can say I just have a salty tooth (if "you" are me, that is), but either way, I'm generally very happy to pass on the desserts. It seems strange, given the number of years I have worked in the pastry arts. Maybe I just exhausted what little sweet tooth I had, or maybe it was never there at all. 

Whatever the case, it makes baking for dinner parties something I truly look forward to. That stack of recipes I've cut out of magazines or bookmarked in my browser? Those get put to use when I'm planning on dining "chez amis." I get to make something I would normally have only a little taste of, and share share share!

I was browsing on FoodGawker a few weeks after my anniversary visit to Mezon (a delicious tapas restaurant just over the border into Connecticut), when I discovered something wonderful: a recipe for chocoflan.

From the picture, I knew it was just like the devilish dessert Jim and I had enjoyed on our anniversary, and I had to try it.

The magic here is that the layers of cake and flan reverse during the baking process. I'm sure there is a simple scientific explanation.

Yet magic it remains.

I used my very first (fancy red) bundt pan and a shallow roasting pan.

Added some cajeta and then the chocolate cake batter.

Then poured over the flan mixture.

The chocoflan bakes in a water bath, which is where the magic happens.

(Do I sound like an episode of MTV Cribs? Mah bad.)

The layers have reversed when the cake has baked

leaving you with a very impressive looking dessert!

This masterpiece is dense and moist, as if the creamy texture of the flan laced itself through the chocolate cake on its way to the bottom of the pan. It's good.

So good, in fact, that I've emailed (by insistent request) the recipe around to friends who weren't even present that night. It's a winner. Click for the recipe and try it yourself.

And share share share!

Love the Place You Live

Design Mom has recently started (or continued?) a series called "Love the Place You Live" and I am loving it. It's all about appreciating what your town or city (or those around you) offers, and seeking out the cozy, cool, or exciting places just down the road. Because there are so many!

(I promise.)

The Friday after our anniversary, Jim and I went to Mezon in Danbury, CT. We missed the delicious tapas we had discovered in Miami! Here are the highlights:

Tangerine and chamomile sangria. Delicious and very interesting with a spring of tarragon as garnish!

The butcher's block. I have to be honest, it looks simple but it.was.divine. Serrano ham, chorizo, manchego cheese (a favorite!), grapes, and guava cubes. It was my first time trying guava...it was unexpected, but I loved it! A little chewy, a little sticky, and sneakily sweet.

Latino wings. Who knew you could stuff a chicken wing with roasted red pepper and manchego? That's a talent I need to acquire. Crispy, flavorful, fun.

Carpaccio. First time trying, and I'm hooked. Beef has always had a strange texture for me, but this was cold, refreshing, and crunchy with the incredible watercress.

The cubano sandwiches. Not my favorite. Maybe I'm just partial because what we had in Miami was so authentic and so you-can't-get-this-at-home, but I wouldn't order these again. Made me miss Miami!

This was a flatbread with roasted red peppers, caramelized onions, chorizo, and manchego. It was a wonderful combination of crunchy and melt-in-your-mouth. Fun!

And finally, dessert. Chocolate cake topped with a layer of flan. Devilish. I am not much for desserts, but this had my eyes rolling in the back of my head. The dulce de leche drizzle...killer!

We will be going back to Mezon, of that I am sure. It was a great spot for a date...dark, lit with candlelight, and loud with the conversations and laughter of other people having a good time. Plus, sharing your food can be romantic, and that's what tapas is all about!

A pitcher of sangria doesn't hurt either...just sayin'.