nakji

Brownies! Heelllllsss-yeah! I just made a pan last night with the Mark Bittman recipe, as a trade for a box of Crystal Lite Raspberry Ice (Ironic?). Ex-pat life is a series of barters sometimes. Anyway, I love how simple the recipe is, especially considering my kitchen - I make the whole thing in the saucepan I use to melt the chocolate. I'll make some this week - maybe I'll doctor them with a bit of Cafe Mai coffee essence. Stay tuned.

A co-worker of mine fed me some of this just yesterday for breakfast. I came in to teach an early class, and she asked me if I'd eaten yet. I told her I hadn't had the time, so she gave me some of her breakfast, straight from the banana leaf - a bit of the sausage, wrapped in soft pounded rice - like mochi. It tasted amazing - the best breakfast sausage I've ever had. I washed it down with some fresh roasted coffee and had a great class! There's a stand across the street from my house that sells these every morning. When I'm up early enough to catch them (it turns into a bun cha stand at lunchtime), I always walk by and wish I could find a seat - but it's always packed!

Pho.

I made kefta with tomato and eggs for dinner tonight. However, instead of lamb in the meatballs, I used pork, as it's cheaper and more readily available. I didn't have any ras al hanout, either, but I used the aromatics blend for making pho that a lot of shops sell here. It has cinnamon, star anise, and some other spices in it as well. Actually, once I mixed it with the tomatoes, it tasted like a really lovely ketchup. I was impressed. Served with some bread and some very cheap Italian red wine, it made a great meal for a damp day.

This was my absolute favourite kind, so much so that my students would bring me exclusively this for treats. I think there's sesame oil in there somewhere, isn't there? And my students thought it was really funny that I liked this one, because I guess these days it's only popular with grandmothers. I got the same reaction whenever I admitted to liking mul kimchi. Is it possible that your mum knows the recipe for this one? Could you post it? I'd love to have it again, and maybe bring it in for my coworkers here, since they're always sharing lovely treats with me. Aren't the mochi all called ddeok? I can't remember anymore... This one always comes out at birthdays, and I think when you move into a new home. I could never choke it down - the mixture of ddeok and dried red bean was like a recipe for choking. I also enjoyed the soft pillowy pink/yellow/green balls. I could buy them at the supa around the corner from my work, and share them with the Japanese teachers.

I came down with a really bad case of food poisoning before Christmas. I was on the sofa (a mere 2 m dash to the toilet) for almost a week. I began to feel better after about 4 days, but there was barely any food in the house - my husband had been ordering delivery the whole time. But the hunger hit me hard, and I was still too weak to venture out and source something on the street. I looked in my fridge - rice, eggs, and various other condiments. Hmm. What to make? I took a fortifying swig of Pocari Sweat. Eggs and rice - that sounds nice and bland. Hey! I could make omuraisu! But wait! No ketchup! What's that lurking in the back.....? This could work. Just fry the pickle in the rice...... Make the egg.... Oh No! Even the egg is horrified at what I've attempted! That's okay, a dollop of Kewpie mayonnaise will make everything better. Was it better than omuraisu? I'm not sure. But I did keep it down.

Thanks for your thoughtful responses. I won't feel bad about putting the red in the fridge this summer when it hits 38 degrees outside! Question #3 When a red wine has turned into more of a maroon/brown shade, is that a natural part of the aging process, or is it a sign that the wine is not worth drinking?

I searched to see if this thread already existed, and couldn't find it, although I did see one requested here. Apologies if I missed it in the search. Question 1: Situation: French Class. We're discussing "Asterix Chez Les Bretons". Asterix visits England to find that the English serve warm beer, but chill their wine. My French teacher laughs uproariously. "Chill their wine! Hehehe! Only in England!" We laugh along. He he he! Crazy English! Of course, running through my head is the fact that, at that very moment, a bottle of Chilean Chardonnay is nestled in my fridge door. Was I wrong to do this? Are the French laughing at me too? What would Asterix say? I wouldn't put a red in the fridge (unless, of course, it's July, when in Hanoi, things need to be refrigerated just to reach room temperature), but I've never thought twice about chilling a white. Question 2: Situation: Hanoi Towers Citimart I'm eying a bottle of questionable French Bordeaux. The label says 1996, and the label is stained. The wine looks more brown than red. In the back of my mind, a warring sentiment - One half of my brain says "Old wine = good". The other half says, "That may contain biotoxins." Somehow, I know that not all wine is created to be cellared, and that this is probably one such bottle. But how do we know which wines? For example, I'd never try to keep a bottle of Banrock Station Shiraz (1L! 30% Bonus!) for twenty years in my basement in the hopes that it would get "better", but how do I identify wines worth keeping? Is there a price range? Are there expensive wines meant to be drunk young? Cheap wines meant to age? Help.

Soft squishy bread is perfect for grilled cheese sandwiches made with American cheese. It's also nice wrapped around large squares of dark chocolate.

After our bike trip through Northern Vietnam, my husband and I had a Bill Murray-esque discussion - "We've got to stop eating all this pasta"....so last week I tried my hand at lemongrass chicken, carrot pickle, and garlic-fried green beans. Verdict? Sides were good, but the lemongrass chicken is much better in a restaurant here, and much cheaper. I'll blame my lack of proper wok. Tonight I made broiled chicken with roast garlic smashed potatoes (I don't have a potato masher, so I just whacked them around the pot with my trusty wooden spoon). Green beans fried with some warm bacon vinaigrette. Brownie for dessert. (Recipe from Mark Bittman's, "How to Cook Everything") Very rich! I didn't have any vanilla extract, so I substituted some scotch. It added a nice undertone.

My husband retches when he's confronted with gim (nori). It made our life in Korea very difficult. He's tried to swallow it, but it just makes him heave. He also hates all seafood. It must be something in the iodine taste.

Thanks so much for this peek back into the country that has affected my life in so many ways. Maybe someday I'll get back for a visit, and I'll insist we meet up for a sauna and some mul nangmyeon. Until then, keep posting!

I think the salted fish can be so expensive because they can come from a certain region that's famous for making that kind of fish - so it's a "limited edition" kind of thing, and used as a prestige gift, a lot like they do in Japan with those $100 melons. Whether the quality is any better or not, I can't comment.

It's traditional for students to eat this before a big test, so answers will "stick" in their minds.

That's the rolled pho place I always eat at! Cool!

My friend lives in an apartment building called "Bobo County"(no kidding), not far from that photo taken of your hubby and son in Ilsan. The building is full of one room apartments filled by unmarried young professionals. If you get there around eight in the evening, everyone has left their dinner trays in the hall to be picked up. You can walk along and see what each apartment has had for dinner! The downside is that the entire place reeks of doncasse sauce. Nobody bothers to cook anymore, and it was the number one complaint of a lot of my young married students, that their wives didn't know how to cook! A note for MarketSt - In South Korea, even in small country towns, most development is of the large apartment complex kind. Of course, this makes sense in the city, where there is a lot of pressure on land-use. However, here is very little modern single-family housing in the countryside, where there is a lot of room for it. People say they prefer to live in the apartment complexes because they're more modern and convenient. Most houses in Korea date from the early eighties and haven't aged well. Ilsan, a developer-planned city, pictured above, has some duplexes and single family dwellings, complete with suburban sidewalks. When my friend and I got homesick, we would walk around it and pretend to be back in Canada (New Zealand for her). It was really weird to take a train to a small country town, with acres of mountains, farm fields, and forest around it, and see three or four giant apartment complexes clustered around one small main street. Interestingly, this trend of everyone living in small (by North American standards) apartments has led to the spawning of several kinds of businesses that we don't have in North America, because we have family rooms. For example, instead of having friends over to play internet games together, kids probably go to an internet room, where each of them can have a computer for a dollar an hour. Instead of young couples making out on their parents' house in the basement, they rent a DVD room, which has a big-screen TV, a DVD player, and a sofa. Karaoke? Go to a singing room. Want a hot tub and sauna? Go to the public bath house. I didn't mind living in a small apartment in Korea, because so many services were available to me in the public domain. Is that really King Sejong's tomb? Wow. He was one cool dude.

This is very special. I thank you. I can see them doing this now- "Ooooh! Eeeeeeeeee! (small guttural noise) mashisseoyo!" (pls excuse bad romanisation) My boss took my mum and I to a similar meal in Ichon. My mum was stunned by the breadth and volume of side dishes offered. Do you often prepare different meals for your husband and kids? When I worked in Korea, I worked really late at night, so it really messed up my meal schedule. edited for tags.

I used a bunch of cilantro from the street - maybe a quarter cup - chopped. The cilantro here grows with dill twined around it, so there was a bit of dill in there, too - about a teaspoon chopped. No mint, although I'm sure it wouldn't be bad if it were in there. Let me know how it turns out!

Yeah, I tried to make it last night to go with a red curry. Basically, I sliced up some cucumber and pineapple - I think, one small pineapple and two small cucumbers. For the dressing I mixed the juice of two limes, two tbsp of rice vinegar, two tbsp. of sugar, 1 tbsp of fish sauce and about a 1/4 cup water. If I did it again, I think I would ditch the vinegar and make it up with lime juice. Or you could just dress it with Nuoc Cham, I think, and it would be good. I think adding some thinly sliced red chili (gochu) would be nice as well. It's lovely and fresh.

Thanks DG! I loved Binch as well, though my favourite was Chic Choc. And I could never look at a box of Coque d'Asse without giggling. Sometimes I splurge and buy Chic Choc here in Vietnam. They were cheaper in Korea! I confess to missing Yangpa rings. Speaking of which, will I be seeing any appearance of my namesake? Is there any octopus in your future? Nakji Bokkumbap, maybe? (I called myself nakji because I love octopuses, and I consider eating raw live octopus the height of adventurous eating. My avatar is from a sign in Osaka) The "love" stick. Your soup looked a lot like what I might see here. Is fish sauce a common condiment in the Philippines?

Hey Caitlin! Welcome to eGullets! I'm glad you had a great time here in Vietnam. It sounds like you got to try some authentic eats, which is always great when you travel. Eating rolled pho by Truc Bach lake is one of my favourite things to do in Hanoi. I think you had fried pho (pho chien) - the stuff with the brown gravy? My husband loves it. Did you try pho when you were in Hanoi? Any Hanoian will tell you Hanoi is the best place to eat pho! If you want to post photos, you need to upload them to ImageGullet first, then copy and paste the location into your post using the IMG tags in the post screen. I've never tried Cha Ca La Vong, because my husband hates fish, but I should definitely make a point of going.

I remember how militarized it was! There was a local base that used to transfer its tanks from one base to another at 4 in the morning. The first time they did it, when I had only been there for a month or so, I was scared out of my wits. I thought we were being attacked. And I remember what a hardship it was for all the young college-aged guys who had to do their two years military service. One of things I miss the most about Korea is its convenience stores. Ministop, Family Mart, LG 25 - I always felt you could accomplish anything in those places. Wine, Onigiri (samgak gimbap in Korean, of course!) yogurt drinks, underwear, shower kits, and of course, 36 kinds of cold beverage, and at least three kinds of banana milk. Do you ever eat in gimbap restaurants, like Gimbap Nara? I always liked going there for lunch, for a big hot dolsot bibimbap, usually the most expensive thing on the menu at around $4.50. I notice your stove is just the right height for your eight-year-old son to cook! I remember our sink being similarly low, a fact which my 6-foot husband always tried to use to get out of doing the dishes!

Oh Boy! It's soooo exciting to see pictures from Korea again. Cutting garlic! I was never without a bag of that in my fridge. Chilsung Cider! Hagwons! Oh my! I lived in Incheon from 2002-2006, and every once in a while, I get a pang for it. I went hiking on the mountain behind our house almost every day there, and on the weekend, we'd take the subway to Bukhansan or another mountain in town and hike there. One of my favourite things was coming off the mountain and having samgyeobsal next to a mountain stream. I can't believe McDonald's finally introduced the breakfast menu! We missed that so much, especially when we'd travel through Korea - I could never face kimchi jigae for breakfast, i don't know why, but I just couldn't. But then, I guess with the trend of all the "toast" places in Seoul (eggs and ham on fried bread) it was only a matter of time until the McMuffin was brought out there. I have so many questions for you - where do you shop - Carrefour, Grandmart, or Homeplus? Do you have to take special runs into Seoul to get some ingredients? Have you ever tried the Indian food shop in Itaewon - they all sorts of great produce, sauces, and mixes available, as well as the cheapest selection of ground and whole spices in the city. What's your favourite boxed cookie? Do you have an oven? Where do your children study - in a Korean public school, or at an International school? So many questions! Oh, I'm getting homesick for Korea!

Chayote is huugggggeee in Northern Vietnam. It's considered "clean", as it doesn't grow in soil, but is grown on trellises. They grow a lot of it in the mountains near Sapa. If you want to serve it like they do here, boil or steam it, then serve plain with ground roasted rice powder for dipping. Alternatively, you can serve it with chili/lime/salt/pepper dip. Both are great. I'm not sure what was on the lake fish - I mean, I'm assuming it was lake fish, as we were several hundred km from the coast, and there's not exactly what you'd call "distribution" here. Actually, now that I think about it, I think the fish are probably raised in the rice fields. Anyway, I'm not sure what exactly was on it. To be honest, I'm not even sure I could make a guess. It was like a dry rub, and it was red, and it had obvious traces of pounded herbs and spices. Let me check at work, and I'll see what I can find out. Okay, the next day we went to Mai Chau, which is more touristy than the other places we'd visited thus far. It was a welcome break for us, as we got fresh coffee and banana pancakes for breakfast. Hallelujah! That night, though, on our way there, we got separated from our group and ended up heading 15 km past the village, towards the Laos border. We only stopped when we ran out of gas, thinking we had fallen too far behind our group. Fortunately, Michel, one of our group members was with us, and gave us some gas. We proceeded to the next village to fill up. There, we asked for directions to our guesthouse, only to be told it was 15 km behind us! Of course, our cellphones had no coverage, but before we could panic, a woman came running out of the shop across the street from the gas station, shouting "Muscova! Muscova!". Turns out she was fluent in Russian, having been sent there as a labourer in the eighties. Of course, the three of us, having only English, French and Flemish between us (doesn't it always end up that way?) (Michel being Belgian), we communicated in hand signals. She dragged us across the road, into her home, where before we could count to ten, she had her husband's cellphone out, dialing our guide's number. God only knows who her carrier was, but I plan to switch before my next bike trip! Anyway, once we'd assured our guides we weren't dead in a ditch somewhere, and they had been dispatched by Fredo to retrieve us, the Moscow photos came out, along with the family's Tet candy and cookie selection, mounds of fresh bananas, and big tubes of sugar cane. She wouldn't rest until we had a banana in one hand and some sugar cane in the other. Michel turned helplessly to me and asked, "How do I eat this?", and if you've ever seen sugarcane, you'll know what he meant. "Just crunch and suck on it until it isn't sweet anymore, and then try to ditch the pulp discreetly." I replied. I was eying a pile of watermelon seeds for just such a purpose. She guided us through her Russian journey, proudly showing us all of the photos, some of which featured the christmas tree which was now standing in their living room, presumably raised for Tet. "It's a different mentality, isn't it?" Michel marvelled. "These people who have nothing - they'll give you everything they have!" Just then, Minh and Ha roared up on bikes to drag us back, but addresses were exchanged and photos were taken to be sent back in thanks. That night we had a delicious dinner, featuring more nem. These are unlike the spring rolls I ate growing up, which had much different tasting wrappers. These are translucent, light, and melt in your mouth. We also had thin-fried pork filet, with sesame seeds in the coating. These are served with chili sauce - tuong ot - which I cunningly call ot sauce, ot being the word for chili. Killer, right? There was more boiled chicken and fried cabbage with garlic, but my favourite dish was this cucumber salad with pineapple and lime-cilantro dressing. I could eat this everyday of my life and be happy. That night, we saw traditional dancing and drank (no! how is it possible?!) yet more rice wine. Mai chau has a lot of rice paddies between the mountains. We saw everyone out in the fields, as it was planting season. Everything is done by hand. Minh told me that "..one grain of rice is equal to eight drops of sweat." The next day, we drove into a nature reserve for our last night. It was 20 km of off-roading, and took us almost three hours to complete. The track was so rough, both Peter and I were thrown off at one point, and I got a wretched tailpipe burn through my jeans. I've still got it, as a matter of fact. They're so common here, they're nicknamed a "Vietnam visa" by local ex-pats. We travelled up the side of one mountain, through many small villages. Of course, it had no guard rail, and the valley was several hundred metres below us. As our friend said, "If you have to dump it, dump to the right." Some parts were so steep, pillion riders had to get off and walk. It was exhilarating. We stopped for a pack lunch that had been prepared for us that morning at our guesthouse in Mai Chau. I have no idea how they had the time to make up thirty of these, considering I was up with them when the roosters started crowing (no, really), and watched them make us all breakfast as well. The lunch, entirely packed in banana leaves (and then superfluously cased in small pink plastic bags) consisted of a grilled marinated pork kebab (succulent), sticky rice cake, a duck egg, a cucumber, an orange, and two bananas. Small plates of MSG and pepper were passed around for egg and cucumber dipping. We descended into a hidden mountain valley, and into a small village that was out of some Asian version of Tolkien. Everything was hand-hewn from wood, and there were even flour mills that were run by water - bamboo poles siphoned water off the stream, into a see-saw, with a bucket on one end, and a hammer on the other, which pounded a bowl of rice into flour. When the bucket filled with water, it would sink and dump the water out. Then when it was empty, it would fly up, send the hammer into the rice. Engineering! We rolled into the village, and up to a optimistically-signed "Eco-tourism Resort". Considering the effort it took to get there, I'm not sure tour buses will be pulling up any time soon. The next morning, for breakfast, I watched the matriarch cook 20 banana pancakes crouched next to a fry-pan over an open flame - her only tool, a pair of mis-matched bamboo chopsticks. Incredible women. There was no power, so I didn't get a shot of dinner, but that night, after we ate, I got a shot of the other traditional liquor we drank (a lot of). Ruou Can - The jug holds lightly fermented corn liquor - the beginnings of bourbon, I guess? It's drunk through thin bamboo straws for reasons I never found out. The next day, we drove back out of the valley, had lunch in Mai Chau, and then drove back to Hanoi. Where we immediately had bacon and cheeseburgers at the R&R Tavern.

From one of my favourite blogs: What Not To Cook in Asia