nakji

It looks like you had a great trip. I know next to nothing about Chilean food. Can you tell us more about the dishes you prepared, and how they relate to the local food culture? And this: Sounds delicious. Can you tell us how it was made?

I think that's a lotus leaf.

I should have been more clear, sorry. I was being really self-involved. I was thinking of the places where I have lived, Vietnam was the only place where I was able to find fresh turmeric regularly. Turmeric is widely available in SEA, yes. Sadly, not Northeast Asia. I can't justify the trip into Tokyo just for fresh - I wonder if dried could be satisfactorily substituted into this recipe? I'll have to try. If anyone happens to have some banana flowers hanging around, here is Frizz's recipe for banana leaf "sausages". (Saing Jayk) Separate out some petals from your banana flower. Boil them briefly so that they are supple - about a minute. Pound together the seasoning: 1 tbsp. each of salt, pepper, sugar; two cloves of garlic, and some cilantro stems. Add to 200 g of ground chicken and 50g of ground pork: Then form into little logs, or "quenelles". Place on your banana petal: Roll! Then steam for fifteen minutes. Make a batter of one cup of water, one egg yolk, and three tsp of flour. Dip your steamed sausages into the mix, and fry in your wok in vegetable oil over medium low heat for five minutes or so. Slice, and serve with a little sri racha thinned with soy sauce. Oi xoi oi I'll have to go digging through my Vietnam pictures. But I feel like it was more of a sweet-sour sauce based on tomatoes.

Isn't that funny? According to my notes, there's no turmeric in my kroeung, but if you look in my picture of the ingredients, you can clearly see a little nub of it there. I have never found fresh turmeric outside of Vietnam, but if I was anywhere near some, I'd snap it up. It has a much better taste than the dried.

How about a feast? A big table, groaning with tiered fruit platters, moulded puddings, flagons of mead and hippocras, a swan stuffed with a peacock (fusion ribald, right?), a leg of something, definitely a pie or two, one preferably with a bird's head sticking out; one with fruit. A whole salmon, laid out with olives for eyes. A cheese plate; a nut plate; a sweetmeats plate. Potatoes for smoking, a la the Black Adder Elizabethan series. Anyway, a feast table would get you out of plating for twenty-five, since everyone could serve themselves. But there must be some sort of piece montee at the end, like a giant pastry dragon carried in, aloft, by two people, which the host stabs majestically with a serving "sword". It should then gush something. Raspberry jam? To honour Shakespeare, all guests should give toasts, in iambic pentameter, of course.

Last week I made the bulgogi recipe on page 97 . I'd never made my own bulgogi marinade, so I was surprised to see it included a whole grated apple. The apple gave the marinade a lovely sweetness which made for really super browning when I cooked the meat. Unfortunately, I had to use a regular non-stick frypan rather than a proper bulgogi pan, but I don't think it affected the taste much. Bulgogi is delicious enough on its own, but it's even better with side dishes for jazzing up your lettuce wraps (ssam). I made seasoned daikon radish and seasoned bean sprouts from page 68. Both were excellent, and even though I made a whole daikon's worth of strings, it didn't matter - I had to hoard some for leftovers, because we ate everything I put out. Twice. I love them in my ssam: Although my husband prefers seasoned shredded leeks I also made the seasoned spinach again, and set aside extra of each side dish before putting everything on the table. The next day, we had bibimbap made from all the leftovers. It was brilliant - I just had to make some rice, then selectively microwave the leftovers. It all went into a bowl with some thinned gochujang, and I had dinner on the table in 15 minutes. It was a perfect weeknight meal.

Oh, I love luk lak! But in Vietnam it always came in a tomatoey sauce..And big fat potato chips, of the British variety, on the side. Huh. Yes, I can't recommend that cooking school enough, if anyone's in the neighborhood. they have an open-air kitchen overlooking the Mekong. Everybody gets their own cooking station, and you eat everything you make. I can't think of a nicer way to pass an afternoon.

Firm tofu can be crumbled and mixed with green onion, egg, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil, and other vegetables of interest as a filling for gyoza. Mum could make a big batch, freeze them, and then pan-fry them as needed for a quick dinner with rice or noodles - the family gets meat, but the daughter gets some gyoza.

Amok This recipe comes from Frizz restaurant, in Phnom Penh. It runs a cooking class, which I highly recommend. First, make the kroeung. 2 dried red chilis, soaked, drained, and chopped. 3 cloves of garlic 2 tbsp of galangal root shallot 1 tbsp thinly sliced lemongrass zest of 1/4 kaffir lime 1 tbsp of salt 1 tbsp of shrimp paste (added, but not considered traditional, 1 tbsp. or so of peanuts) Ground in a mortar: To look like: Then, take a filet of firm white-fleshed fish (Around 400g). Slice. Mix the kroeung with 1 cup of coconut milk, one egg (beaten), and 1 tbsp of fish sauce, and then add the fish slices. Then add one more cup of coconut milk. (I don't know why it's done like that, but that's what the recipe calls for.) Meanwhile, rig up some sort of leaf infrastructure. We used "nhor" leaves, which I think are banana leaves. Cabbage is suggested as a substitute. You must use two leaves to form the cup, as one will not be strong enough to support the cup. Fold a bit of the leaf in four places to form a cup, using toothpicks to secure the folds. Then spoon in the mixture. (I believe the proportions called for in the recipe will yield more than one cup - maybe two or three cups?) Then steam the cups, covered, until the mix is firm, but still moist. It should look like this: When it reaches this stage, top the cups with coconut cream - you can do this by using canned coconut cream or reducing coconut milk until thick. Top with slivers of red chili and kaffir lime leaves. Steam again until the coconut cream is firm. I can't quite remember, but it can't have been too much longer. Maybe five minutes? It should come out of the cup like this: When you cut through, it makes lovely layers like this: Enjoy!

This is my favourite tofu recipe. I learned it in Vietnam, and it's really simple; even my husband, who is not keen on tofu will eat it. I'll note that it's only worth making if they use decent canned or fresh tomatoes and good firm tofu. Hopefully they have access to an Asian market where they can get the good stuff. 1 block of firm tofu, drained (you can nuke it in the microwave for 30 seconds or so to help drain it.) and in largeish cubes or slices, as you like. Or- if available- one block of pre-fried tofu, cubed Sauce: 1 can of crushed or whole tomatoes, or four fresh tomatoes, seeded, blanched and chopped. 1 tbsp or so of oil 1 inch of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped An equal amount of fresh garlic, peeled and chopped 3 or 4 green onions, cleaned and chopped salt (or fish sauce), sugar to balance seasoning Tofu: If you've bought regular firm tofu, you can use it as is, or fry it, cubed, in a fry pan to crisp up the edges until they're golden. Just make sure it's well-drained, or it will spit. When it's fried, set it aside on paper towel to drain, then make the sauce in the skillet. I always buy pre-fried tofu, because I have access to it, and it's better with more oil. Sauce: In a skillet, heat the oil on a low heat, adding the garlic, ginger, and green onion. Fry them gently until they're fragrant, then add tomatoes. Cook the tomatoes down for ten minutes or so, breaking them up if you're using whole ones. When the tomatoes look more like a sauce and less like tomato cubes, adjust the seasoning with a bit of salt and sugar. Turn in your tofu (fried or plain, as you like), and stir gently to coat. Let it simmer on a low heat for another minute or so to absorb the sauce. This serves two with only rice on the side, or four if you make it part of a meal with a protein and a vegetable, like you would at a Vietnamese meal. If they're making it as a family meal, the omnivores can have chicken on the side, and the vegetarian can have a larger portion.

They come in different sizes....shipping a standard one would be quite expensive, I expect. I know a lot of people just use a lock & lock container. Do you want it for the look of it, or just to make kimchi in?

When my parents visited me in Korea, my Korean friends had them over for dinner. Mrs. Im, esteemed cook and wife of my boss, made a whole platter of milssam, which were just too beautiful to be believed. They were quite small - the wrap itself could have been no larger than my hand, and the ingredients inside were cut in exquisitely small and precise matchsticks. It was wrapped and tied with a green onion string. My mother could barely bring herself to eat one, they were so beautiful, and so small. Milssam are prepared ahead of time, aren't they, and gujeolpan are wrapped at the table? The recipe I have for milssam wraps calls for them to be fried in a pan with a 15cm (6 inch) diameter, using two tablespoons of batter to coat the bottom, like you would make a crepe. This would yield a very thin crepe, to my mind. The recipe uses 2 cups rice flour, 2 cups water, and one tsp of salt. It also, intriguingly, suggests that you may like to colour your pancakes, using lettuce or carrot juice in place of some of the water. For the gujeolpan recipe I have, the pancakes use wheat flour, eggs, and oil. Then, it doesn't specify how thin the pancake should be, but it does say use a large skillet, and make a thin pancake. When the pancakes are finished, cut them all into 8 cm (3 inch) circles.

Do these tacos differ materially from a good ssam? Perhaps they're just bigger. I made bulgogi last weekend, and topped it with the spicy spring onion salad and shredded spicy daikon. While great wrapped in red leaf lettuce, I'm sure it would work in a corn tortilla. Or a flour tortilla, which would be more my taste, I guess.

If you ever want to crack the normal composure of the average Japanese person on the street in Japan, send your non-Japanese husband down the road from the market with a large bundle of negi (leeks) sticking out of his backpack. Follow several paces behind so they think he's alone. Watch hilarity ensue. I've seen little old ladies screech to a halt on their bicycles and point, young couples fall down laughing, and businessmen whip their heads around and stare. I wonder what they think he has planned?

I did a cooking class while in Phnom Penh and cooked amok, Cambodian-style curry, and banana flower sausages, which were all delicious. I took meticulous notes and step-by-step photos for this forum, which I have never bothered to upload. Because I am lazy. My favourite by far was the amok, which layered delicate slices of fish with a thick kroeung and coconut cream. When I had this dish in restaurants in Siem Reap, I was unimpressed, but when I made it, it was spectacular. I haven't had access to most of the ingredients since leaving SEA, but if anyone's interested, I'll post the photos and method here.

What a beautiful colour! I miss beets. Yesterday I found little baby heads of kale at the market - each the size of a brussel sprout. I knew I still had some large white beans left over at home, so I snapped up two bags, much to the bemusement of everyone else in the shop, who had been picking up the bags, turning them over with puzzlement, and putting them back onto the pile. Today: kale and white bean soup for lunch! I added a little lemon as well, to bring out the flavour.

I broke my elbow on my right arm last autumn, and that seriously killed my ability to do just about anything for three months! What saved my life and sanity (and let me tell you, I spent a lot of time crying in the shower) was a) were simple recipes like pasta and tomato sauce, mapo dofu, and soup. We ate lots of soup. I designated my husband sous-chef, and taught him how to do everything, and then stayed in the kitchen with him for moral support as he cooked. I also got him to look through my recipe books and pick out things he might like to make. Now he still cooks once a week, and frequently chooses recipes I'd never have been inclined to try out. He's gotten a lot more interested in cooking as a result. I have a long commute on some days, and I often get home around ten o'clock at night. I make a policy during the week not to cook anything that takes longer to make than the rice or the pasta. Fortunately, most asian dishes fit into this category. The worst part is chopping all the vegetables. I only make dishes with a long prep time on my days off, and then plan enough to make leftovers for lunches and onwards. But cooking well is the perfect hobby for me. We have a food budget of about 8,000 yen during the week, and that includes good coffee as well. It doesn't include things like cheese or wine, since those are luxuries in Japan. We hardly ever eat out - maybe once a week, and we take our lunches. Some days, it seems like a big hill to climb. I allow myself five minutes of moaning in my head, then I just put my head down and do it. It's always worth it in the end.

They do in western-style restaurants like TGI Friday's or Outback, but I've never had any leftovers in a traditional Korean restaurant. This was an exception!

Shall I keep the photos coming, then, to tide us over until you go? One of the liveliest places to go in Seoul on a Sunday is Myeongdong, the shopping mecca for Korean and Japanese girls looking for a deal on a Guccci bag. And maybe a little something else? What? I'm talking about ddeok bokee, the classic street snack of thick rice noodles, boiled in a sweet-spicy sauce. Just the thing for a frozen day in Seoul. Ask for an egg, and then break the yolk into the sauce, and mix it up to help quell the spiciness. Then try not to get it all over your jacket - difficult, with the toothpick provided as an eating tool. Or maybe you'd like a hotbar? I have no idea what these are made of, but there's always a queue waiting to smear these with ketchup and go to town. Peter and I were in the mood for something less stick-based, however, so we went for one of my favourite Korean dishes; Jjim dalk. Jjim dalk is a specialty of the city of Andong, and I've had the privilege of eating it there. But if you're not going to make it to Andong on your next trip, this place is the next-best thing. Travelling down the main shopping strip in Myeongdong, turn on to one of the side streets -this shop is practically on the corner. You can order their featured dish in small, medium, and large - my husband and I split a medium plate, and could barely finish it. It's chicken, mushrooms, chilis, sweet potato noodles, onions, greens, carrots, and dried chilis mixed in a sweet-spicy soy based sauce. I'm sure we ate from that plate for an hour and barely seemed to make a dent.

Yeah, Korean banchan is a bit like a box of chocolates. Sometimes you get the truffle, and sometimes you get the nougat....or a naked hot dog, as it were. I recently started making my own banchan, and found two really good recipes in "The Korean Table" - the potatoes in soy and sweet sauce, which were absolute gold - whenever I got these in Korea, it was a red-letter day, so I was so happy to make them at home. And I made my favourite daikon strips, without which no bibimbap is complete, in my eyes. These are great, I'll be making them all the time. Now if I could just figure out how to make those sweet black beans...

Well clearly you didn't eat it with enough kimchi on the side! But seriously, rice is a pretty big deal in Asia, and wasting even a single grain of it is not considered respectful in some circles. For a long time, pure white rice was expensive and difficult to get, so to leave some behind on your bowl just because it was stuck could be considered pretty wasteful. In the West we feel similarly about bread, I think. I remember my mother insisting that I finish my bread crusts, even though I'd already eaten up all the tasty bits from the rest of the sandwich. Was it the most delicious part of the bread? No way. Could it have been improved by smearing it with butter or other things? For sure, but my Mom didn't roll that way. I ate the crusts up and washed them down with milk or kool-aid. But I agree, it's not the most delicious thing on the table most of the time in Korea. I always had a few spoonfuls to be respectful, then pleaded a full stomach.

I made the fettuccine al limone last night, with my normal adaptations and diversions. There was no fresh fettuccine to be had at my local foreign foods shop, so I had to use dried linguine instead. This shop, wedged into a corner of a busy grocery store at a busy station, is not the ideal place to go on a busy Sunday afternoon. Nevertheless, I found myself crawling over the free coffee station (dangerous) and squeezing myself through an older Japanese couple arguing whether it was sri racha or nam plaa in the Thai curry recipe they'd left at home (distracting) to free the linguine from its hiding place in the back of the store. On my way out, I took mercy on the couple and whispered "Nam plaa des.", then spent another ten fruitless minutes in the Korean and preserves corners looking for corn syrup, for an unrelated project. The things I do for my hobby. On the plus side of living in Japan, I do get to acquire lots of cool cooking toys that happened to be useful all over the place. Marcella calls for the zest of four lemons, and the juice of two, to be added to double cream, then reduced. Zesting lemons is not so easy without a zester or a microplane. So I experimentally ran the lemon over several of the roughest surfaces in my kitchen - my suribachi: no change; my ginger grater: lots of oil, no zest; my daikon grater: a fine, powdery zest. Not so strange, I suppose, considering it's also genius for grating parmesan cheese. I was doubtful of this recipe, because the sauce seemed to have no seasoning other than the cream, lemon, and parmesan cheese. I used my common sense and adjusted for salt and pepper, finished the linguine in the sauce, and took a taste. The sauce was both rich and sharp, with none of the cloying richness that a straight-up Alfredo sauce would have. But I think it was a trifle to sharp with acid for my linguine - I can definitely see how egg fettuccine would help temper the acidity even more. I tossed in some fresh roasted asparagus, which helped the balance. It was a beautiful pale yellow colour, which, next to the asparagus looked quite spring-like. Very nice to get me in the mood for Spring.

Yeah, that's "OXO Good Grips Ladle". Swap out the "r"s for "l"s in the last word and you've got ladle. How does an OXO rice paddle differ from a basic rice paddle? I can't see how they'd add a lot of function to such a simple tool.

An interesting article in the New York Times today about making soups from bones. Like many people, I've made soup from a leftover chicken carcass, but I haven't thought much beyond that. The author feels that stock is too much work for a home kitchen, and making soup with bones in it saves time and adds flavour. She gives a recipe for borscht with a shin bone - what other boney soup ideas have I been missing out on?

I've been itching to get my hands on some bones. First, I'd like to get some beef short ribs for making Korean galbi jjim. Second, I'd like to try my hand at making some stock - but I need bones. None of the supermarkets I frequent carry bones or meat on the bone - unless you count fabulously expensive chicken wings. Is it possible to get bones in Japan? Where do I go, and what do I ask?