Awesome Additions

I was craving some oatmeal earlier, and luckily there was some oatmeal sitting in my pantry. As I was searching through my refrigerator for something to eat with my oatmeal, I came across some leftover red bean from the bao I made earlier, and I had a simple yet brilliant idea. Why not combine them? Oatmeal is great, and red bean is great; shouldn't they be even greater together? After trying it out, I've decided the answer is: sort of.

The oatmeal and red bean combination tasted exactly as one would imagine it to taste: like oatmeal and red bean. It'd be overkill to call it amazing, but it was still quite good. I wouldn't go out of my way to obtain red bean for my oatmeal the next time around, but if I had some handy, I wouldn't object to combining the two again.

I am a fan of oatmeal with stuff. While I don't mind the lumpy porridge on its own, it's always tastier with some additions. Corner Bakery, an awesome chain breakfast/lunch type place, which I frequent fairly often, has an item called Swiss oatmeal on its menu. It's served cold, and it's got all kinds of goodies, from apples to bananas to raisins, in it. I can vouch that it's fantastic. One of these days I may attempt to reproduce it, but for the time being, it's not that hard to just hop on down there and order it.

I have quite a list of things I like with my oatmeal. Some of them may seem kind of strange, but I assure you that they're quite delicious. I recommend trying them out first hand.

My list: milk, brown sugar, cinnamon, almonds, cottage cheese, takuan, dongchimi. The last two items are two forms of pickled daikon radish. I guess red bean has been added to that list now.

One last thing. Some people prefer steel-cut oatmeal, but I find it just a bit too chewy for my liking; when I eat it as is, I just don't feel like I'm eating oatmeal. I did discover, however, that a ratio of 1:2 of steel-cut oats to regular rolled oats makes for great textural variety. In terms of cups, that translates to something like 1/4 cup of steel-cut oats plus 1/2 cup of rolled oats.

Experimental Noodle House: Curry Udon

Today's dinner was (and tomorrow's will be...and the next day's...and the next's...until I run out) curry udon. I had been craving udon for a while, so I finally decided to make some. While my favorite kind of udon is kitsune udon, which features triangular pieces of fried tofu, I was in the mood for something different. As I was browsing the web for ideas, curry udon came up. The curry udon that I saw, however, was basically regular Japanese curry with udon noodles in it, but I felt like having something a bit more soupy. And so, with the idea of curry udon in mind, without any particular recipe, I began my experiment.

I didn't have ready-made noodles on hand, and I usually find them to be kind of gross and too-soft anyway, so I made my own. Here is a great link on how to make noodles, which I followed pretty closely, except I halved it. Boy, do I need practice. I'm not particularly skilled with cutting, so my noodles were really fat, which made them slightly too chewy after boiling. They also had creases where I folded them over, so I have to figure that out as well. Hopefully I will resolve those issues since I plan on making more udon in the future. Wow, I just had an epiphany; since I halved the recipe, I probably didn't need to fold the flattened dough so many times, and all the folding probably resulted in excessive creases. I love sudden realizations!

My attempt...

The broth was an interesting one. I made the base by boiling chicken legs and dried anchovies (myulchi in Korean) in some unknown amount of water. After boiling the chicken drumsticks for the stock, I removed them, pulled the meat off the bones, tossed the bones, and put the meat back into the pot. I also removed the dried anchovies. As for everything else in the soup, I'm not quite sure what the ratios of anything were since I basically grabbed everything on my shelf and threw it in there to see how it would alter the taste. In no particular order, the additional flavorings were: soy sauce, mirin, salt, curry bullions, sugar, fish sauce. I'm sure any authentic Japanese udon-lover is crying in horror at what was in there, but hey, it tasted pretty good. I also sliced onions and carrots and added them in to make the soup seem more curry-like. I was too lazy to peel the potatoes, so I left those out.

I put the noodles in a bowl, topped them with chopped napa cabbage, and then poured the curry soup on top. In the end, I got a nice soupy udon with a touch of curry flavor and some veggies.

Bow to Bao

I am going to begin by saying that I desperately desire a camera and tripod. While I may be thoroughly enjoying photography, all of my satisfyingly well-focused, well-exposed shots are on my very old 35mm SLR camera, in black and white film. The particularly gross quality of today's food pictures from my dinky digital point-and-shoot has made me extra aware of the my pressing urge to obtain a DSLR camera. Alas, in a few months, I shall. As well as nice tripod. In the meantime, I guess borrowing a tripod wouldn't kill me.

Anyway, I made steamed red bean buns (aka dou sha bao in Chinese or jjinbbang in Korean) on Sunday. I always bought these things from the market without realizing how easy they are to make at home. Since I wasn't in the mood for making the whole wheat bread that I usually toast every morning, I thought I'd change up my breakfast and have a bun every morning this week instead. I made twelve, ate two, put three in my fridge, and froze the rest. In a rush--me in the mornings--you can microwave the refrigerated ones for 20-30 seconds, and they come out pretty decent. Of course the best thing to do is re-steam them, but not all of us have the luxury of time in the AM. Over the course of my eating the fridge stock, I transfer them from freezer to refrigerator; I'm not sure that does anything, but at least I feel that maybe they keep fresher-tasting longer.

Recipe adapted from here. The recipe on the site calls for instant yeast rather than active dry yeast, but I only have active dry yeast. The proportions are the same, and the taste is the same; only the process differs, and only slightly, at that.

Ingredients:

1/2 warm water

1+1/2 tsp. active dry yeast

1/4 cup sugar

3 cups all purpose flour

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 cup milk

1 Tbsp. vegetable oil

Sweet red bean paste, canned or homemade*

*Regarding red bean paste, there is a lot to say. There are smoother, pasty kinds as well as ones that incorporate whole beans. What kind you use is up to preference. I haven't tried making it at home yet, but I have the beans in my pantry, and I plan on trying it out sometime soon. I will dedicate an entire post to red beans later because they are the loves of my life, and they deserve much more thought and detail than an asterisk can provide.

Directions: Combine the warm water, yeast, and about a tablespoon of the sugar in a small bowl. The actual amount of sugar in the water doesn't have to be that precise; it's just to get the yeast going. I just sprinkle some sugar from the quarter-cup measuring cup into the bowl. Let it sit for about five minutes, and by that time, it should be kind of foamy at the surface. If you're not getting foam, your check the expiration date on your yeast, for it may have expired. Note: if you have instant yeast, you can skip this step and just put the yeast in with the dry ingredients in the next step.

In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, remaining sugar, and baking soda. Pour in the milk, yeasty water mixture, and oil. Stir around with a spoon a bit until it comes together, and then you can stick your hands in and turn the dough out onto a smooth surface, such as a counter top or table. Add a couple tablespoons of water to keep the dough moist and stretchy. It should not be tacky and sticky, so use your judgement. I usually add around two tablespoons. Knead the dough for ten minutes. Kneading involves kind of pressing your palms into the dough, clenching your fingers, then folding the clenched part of dough over where your palms were while spinning the dough. If that made no sense, forget it and just do what you want. I apologize for no visuals, but it's rather difficult to wield a camera when your hands are occupied kneading.

After you're done kneading, put the dough in a clean bowl, cover, and let sit in a warm-ish place (like on top of the fridge) for 45 minutes to 1 hour. After time's up, separate the dough into twelve pieces. I usually divide the dough in half, divide all those in half, and then divide those pieces into thirds. They may look small, but don't fret. They expand.

Flatten the dough pieces into discs and fill with about a tablespoon of red bean paste, or anything you want, for the matter. Seal, and place seam side down into a steamer. Alternatively, don't stuff the dough and just roll it into balls to steam.

I will take a moment to talk about steaming. There are a couple different options when it comes to steaming. At home I have bamboo steamers, which are handy because they can fit more due to their stackable nature, and they infuse the steamed food with a pleasant bamboo aroma. At school, I simply have my small steaming basket, and a smaller pot to put it in. Since it expands, if I had a larger pot, I could probably fit more buns in, but alas, I don't. Hence, I had to steam in four batches of 3 buns each. If you don't have either of these things, a metal colander in a pot might work. Something with holes is ideal because the steam condenses and forms a puddle, making your buns soggy. Fill your pot with about a half-inch to inch of water,making sure it doesn't touch the bottom of your steaming contraption. Regardless of what you're using, aside from the bamboo steamer, make sure you cover your pot.

Also, either grease your steamer, place squares of parchment paper below each bun, or line the steamer with cabbage or lettuce or other such leafy vegetable to prevent the buns from sticking. I prefer cabbage since it doesn't create waste, doesn't give you the additional work of getting oily stuff off your steamer, and allows for a yummy, steamed-cabbage treat at the end of your steaming. Or you could throw it away if it disgusts you.

Bring your pot of stuff to a boil and then lower the heat to medium-low or low. You don't need the water vigorously boiling the whole time; you just need it to be hot enough to release steam. Steam for 10-15 minutes. Remove, and consume! But be careful; they're hot. I usually use chopsticks to get them out. Since my steamer was small, the buns stuck together and were difficult to get out, which explains why my plate of them looks so mauled.

Soup for Komachi

It's been a while. I just got back from spring break, which involved me eating my heart out in San Francisco. I may write about that later, or I may not, depending on how I feel. Today's feature food comes from before spring break, actually. In Korean, it's called miyeok guk (MEE-yuck-gook), or seaweed soup, miyeok meaning seaweed and guk meaning soup. Once again, be astounded at the utter creativity with which Koreans name their foods. After having written about kimbap not too long ago, I believe you're probably thinking, "wow, Korean people sure eat a lot of seaweed," and I won't contest that. It's good stuff. In Korean culture, the soup is believed to be good for pregnant mothers and mothers who have recently given birth, so many a woman has consumed it around the time of her child birthing, my mother included. In fact, she had so much that many years later, she still would prefer not to eat it too often. Because of its relation to birth, it's also traditionally eaten on birthdays. As mine is in a week, I figured this would be an apt post.

The title of this post refers to the infamous female poet, Ono no Komachi, from Japan's Heian period (794-1185). I will take a moment to write down one of her tanka, which is a form of Japanese poetry rather similar to the more well-known haiku. It is a five-line poem, the first three lines with identical structure to haiku; that is, with a 5-7-5 syllable pattern. The last two lines have 7 syllables each, which makes for a total of 31 syllables. Enough math, and on to the poetry! If you're not familiar with Japanese romanization, you'll just have to trust me that it follows the pattern.

mirume naki

wagami o ura to

shirane ba ya

karenade ama no

ashi tayuku kuru

The seaweed gatherer's weary feet

keep coming back to my shore.

Doesn't he know

there's no harvest for him

in this uncaring bay?

The translation comes from The Ink Dark Moon, translated by Jane Hirshfield with Mariko Aratani. It's a rather excellent anthology of works by Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu. Although I could ramble on about the nuances of Japanese poetry, I will spare you and simply state that Japanese metaphor likens seaweed in water to a woman's beautiful, glossy, black hair.

At a stretch, the wonderful, velvety seaweed in this soup could be said to somewhat resemble hair, although I'd actually rather not be imagining that I'm dumping spoonfuls of hair into my eager mouth. I never understood how the green of seaweed could look black, but I suppose if you squinted your eyes a bit and it was dark out...

Anyway, on to the recipe, but since I just throw stuff in the pot, I don't have exact measurements. I'm estimating, so use your judgement if something seems off. You will need:

1/2 lb of beef brisket or flank

8-10 cups of water

3 or 4 cloves of garlic

1/3 cup of dried miyeok

1 Tbsp. soy sauce

1 Tbsp. fish sauce (optional)

salt, to taste

Put the meat and water into a medium-large pot and bring to a boil. Watch it closely as it's on its way to boiling because the blood in the meat likes to make a foamy mess that boils over when the water gets hot. As you start to see foam forming, scoop it out with a spoon. The foam gets more vigorous when the water gets hotter, so try to keep up. If the water looks like it's about to boil over, you can turn down the heat, which will pretty quickly stop the foam, and then you can resume boiling it when you've caught your breath and are ready to tackle the foamy beast once more. I exaggerate; it's not that bad, but that's no reason to get complacent and end up with a messy stove top.

After the water's been boiling for about 5 minutes, throw in the peeled garlic cloves, turn down the heat, and let the broth simmer for about an hour and a half. Check on the water levels every so often, and if much water seems to have evaporated, add more to the pot.

At the hour and a half mark, put the miyeok into a bowl with some fresh water. A third of a cup may not seem like much, but believe me, the stuff expands. The first time I made this soup, my dad warned me twice about its expanding capacity. When he was making it for my mom during her pregnancy (aww), he made the mistake of underestimating the power of miyeok to absorb water. I'm glad I noted his warning. Let the miyeok sit in the water for about half an hour, although it really only takes something like ten minutes for it to fully bloat up.

Before and after!

While your miyeok is soaking, remove the slab of beef from the broth and shred it. It's pretty hot when it first comes out, so I advise letting it cool off for a few minutes before handling it. Shredding's not too hard; just grab pieces and tear along the grain. Once all that's done, throw the shredded beef back into the pot, add the miyeok, and bring to a boil. Add in the soy sauce, fish sauce, and salt. Soup complete!

If you're not accustomed to its slimy-yet-chewy texture, you're in for a treat. It takes a bit to get used to, but once/if you do, it's rather comforting and pleasant. Try it out for the next birthday on your calendar or for the next woman you know who is facing childbirth! It's nutritious and delicious.