restingmotion

Touring the Replacements Warehouse

A couple of weeks ago I loaded up the car and Tikka and I took a short trip to North Carolina.  We were on our way to Greensboro, where I was taking several boxes of china to sell to Replacements as part of my ongoing process of refinement and elimination.  This doesn't mean that I don't still own more than enough china, I do, and I have assorted partial services accumulated over four generations, all of which I like to mix together.   But there was also china I never use anymore, a lot of it the more modern, but sometimes antique pieces, especially the higher contrast black/white, black/silver, or high contrast color patterns.  My style in general, both in clothing and home, seems to be settling into a softer more muted palette, one that speaks to me at least of comfort.

I had already photographed everything and sent in a request to sell, so we arrived with purchase offers in hand, but there was still a wait while my china was inspected for quality issues.  During that time we took the tour, which was fascinating.  There is a showroom (of course) but the tour also includes the various warehouses and workrooms.

Replacements is pet-friendly, and Tikka was welcomed everywhere but the break-room.  Employees can also bring their dogs to work.  But there were people zooming around on carts, and it eventually got overwhelming to a small dog, so Tikka rode around in an LL Bean bag that I keep in the car for groceries and the like. Notice that although I have now eliminated my stash of black high contrast china, there is still some black in my wardrobe.  Both the shorts and the tank are favorites for their fit and shape, and will have to be traced off.  But that remains a future project.

We passed through the workroom where employees are examining pieces that have come in for sale.  Somewhere, on one of those tables, someone was looking at my china and crystal.

The tour also included a few of the museum collections (not for sale) including this display of presidential china patterns.

There were workrooms where china could be reglazed, chipped glassware repaired, and silver could be repaired and refurbished.  They also have a workroom were ornate patterns are cut into silver as shown in this display.  Apparently this kind of work sells very well, which both surprised me, simply because the younger generations in my own families seem uninterested in old ornate things, and made me happy, because I love the idea of reusing and refurbishing old things, and keeping them in use.

 

The tour ended and we only had a few minutes to spend in the showroom before we were paged to come back to the workroom  as our offerings had been appraised.  It was a fascinating tour, and a fascinating business; one I am happy to support.

 

Broken Windows

I remember reading once about the Broken Window Theory, and thinking it was an interesting idea, and one that I can actually see as being applicable in my own life.  Basically the theory states that monitoring and maintaining an environment helps to prevent small crimes, such as vandalism, which in turn plays a role in preventing the encroachment of larger crimes.  I interpreted this as meaning that a broken window shows a lack of care or concern, which encourages those who may already be predisposed to asocial behavior to assume that no one cares, and therefore to break in.  One small break-in leads to great ter lawlessness.

 

I don't actually know anything about how effective this theory is in actual practice, at least in terms of large urban environments, but it makes sense to me as I can see it play out in my own small environments.  People tell me I am organized.  But I am organized only because the cost of disorganization is so high, and because it is easier to spend a few seconds putting something away than it is to spend hours cleaning up a larger mess.  Perhaps this is simply because I am inclined, as my mom reminds me, to be lazy.  I'm inclined to think that view is a bit simplistic.   

 

Do you know the story of Mary and Martha?  In the gospel of Luke, Mary sits at Jesus feet, listening to his words, while Martha hustles and bustles, serving everyone.  Sometimes people think that, because I am organized, because I can get things done, I am a Martha.  I am not.  You who read this blog are privileged to see my Mary side.  I am only as organized as I need to be, as organized as necessary to feed my own sense of balance and well-being, and indulge my Mary-ness. I have  mostly learned that there is a level of disorganization, mess, and unruliness that increases my stress levels.  I suspect we all live on a spectrum of comfort with order/disorder and for most of us, there is some point where the disorder starts to engender stress and anxiety.  I am only as organized as I need to be so that I do not have to be plagued by anxiety over what has not been done.  I am only organized enough that I can sit  back and enjoy.  It is possible that I have a greater need for organization is than some others.  It is also possible that my need to live without anxiety is also great  I prefer stress to be a positive influence rather than a negative one.  What is negative for me, may not be negative for someone else.  I want to sit and listen.  I love solving problems, but I want to solve the problem then sit back and enjoy the moment. I don't need to go looking for another problem to solve.  I fully accept that are people, the Martha's, who more content to hustle and bustle.  Both paths are valid and necessary.  Both can be allowed to grow to extremes.  Just as one can be disorganized to the point that it interferes with health and happiness, one can also be over-organized to the point that it interferes with health and happiness.  Either path can be a crutch.  Either path can be a tool.

 

I think my attitude toward organization, and life, is much like my attitude toward parties.  I love having people over.  I love feeding people.  I love the anticipation, the process of planning, and preparing food and drink and preparing a setting. To me making food to feed people is an act of community, of love.  It does not have to be perfect.  Perfect is the enemy of good. But that love of cooking points to what I really love, spending time with people, not necessarily doing something, but just being with them.  Once the doorbell rings, I take off my apron and start to enjoy my guests.  I want to enjoy my own party, and for me, that means sitting back and relaxing in the moment, in the conversations.   I am all for getting everything pulled together and set up in advance, because I am no Martha.  Once the guests start to arrive, most of the work needs to be done, because I'm going to be sitting on the floor listening.  Yes, I'll get drinks, or bring food to a table, minor things, but the real work has already been done and the time has come to simply enjoy.

 

That doesn't mean that I don't misjudge, don't make mistakes, don't mess up.  I do. Last weekend I had to spend quite a few hours on Saturday cleaning the garage.  The job was bigger than it should have been because I let things get out of hand.  But it started simply.  Like the broken window theory, one small act of neglect led to another, and another, and soon the thought of tackling the whole project became a source of stress and anxiety, stress and anxiety that could have been prevented.

 

It started in the fall. I ordered too many bulbs.  I got carried away with dreams of gardening and forgot that I had committed myself to a couple of big projects that would eat up large portions of my time, preventing me from planting bulbs.  The bulbs were not all planted before winter set in and it grew too cold.  I was pretty annoyed with myself.

 

I had read that if I refrigerated the bulbs I could plant them in the spring and they would still grow and bloom, and since I had a small dorm-sized refrigerator in the garage that I had used as a beverage refrigerator, I decided to try it out.  I put the beverages inside in the kitchen refrigerator, and used the dorm refrigerator to store bulbs.  So far so good.  Order was maintained.  I didn't have a place to chill or store beverages, but in the winter the garage is cool, and I just left them on the garage floor near the shelving. 

 

Spring arrived and once again I had over-committed myself.  But now my stress level was higher.  I had spring tasks to attend to in the garden.  I had commitments to fulfill, and I had a couple of hundred tulip bulbs occupying my garage refrigerator that needed to be planted, that should have been planted the previous fall.  The very presence of the tulips created an undue burden.  The garage was getting warmer but I couldn't use the refrigerator.  The bulbs should have been planted already but there they were, still sitting there.  I didn't have enough time, but I carried a heavy burden of expectation, my own expectation mind you, but expectation nonetheless.

 

Yes, the tulips got planted.  Yes they grew and bloomed.  But the garage grew worse.  The refrigerator was filled with dirt from the bulbs and needed to be washed.  Cases of soda and water were still on the floor of the garage and needed to be moved before I could wash the refrigerator.  Because there was already stuff piled up on the floor, I let tiredness rule.  I would come home, and instead of climbing over the boxes to put something away in the proper place on the shelf, I would simply add it to the pile.  It became difficult to reach the shelves, so more things piled up on the floor, or in the closet behind a closed door.  Every time I walked through the garage, which was daily, my stress level rose.  Every day when I walked through the garage, my despair at the thought of having to clean it all out rose.  At this point my anxiety over the garage took on a life of its own.  Because my anxiety was great, I would try to shove it into a corner, to ignore it.  I would do other things instead, things that made me feel better, even though I knew that I really needed to clean the garage.

 

We all do this you know, whether it be garages or work or relationships, we all do this.  It starts innocently enough with one small accommodation, often because we are tired, or simply distracted. But one thing always leads to another. We let something slide, and then our anxiety over it grows to the point that we can no longer face it.  So we avoid it.  Sometimes we engage in activity meant to make ourselves feel better, but which actually makes the situation worse.  Sometimes our anxiety and our fear, our fear of failure, of having hurt someone, our fear of not being good enough, of not being able to face the consequences, overwhelms us.  Sometimes we need help to face the  problem and get through it.

 

I didn't need help to clean the garage.  I just needed to start in one corner and do it.  I needed the refrigerator.  My working refrigerator was filled with beer and soda and water and kimchi.  I needed that small refrigerator, but I was pushed over the line when I couldn't find a drill bit.  Now I've needed to organize the drill bits, and the tools in general for years.  That was George's territory when he could still do it.  George's system was to stack everything in piles, or in boxes, on his workbench.  Wrenches to the left, hammers on the right.  In theory at least.  What we had was a three foot high pile of tools and boxes of miscellaneous screws and nails and drill bits.  We didn't move the entire pile here, but we still didn't have a system.  And then we were no longer a we. I don't have the patience to sort through boxes of things to find just the right single item.  But I still left that mess intact because I suppose I wasn't ready to claim the title of "Mistress of the Tools" .  Perhaps the entire garage had to go to hell before I could claim ownership of something as simple as a box of screws, or a box of drill bits.

 

 

 

Red Cabbage Kimchi

I'm not yet sure, but it seems the red cabbage kimchi is the real winner of this kimchi-making experiment.   The flavor defies easy categorization. It tastes like red cabbage, but fruitier, with a bit of funk and a hint of kimchi flavor, and a subtly complex layering of flavors. If I hadn't made it and it was served to me, I'm not convinced I'd identify it as kimchi, but perhaps I would.  It is certainly fermented red cabbage.  I'm not sure what I'd call it, except delicious.

To rehash, above are the basic ingredients.

The cabbage was cut into quarters lengthwise, and the quarters were then quartered again, also lengthwise.

The cabbage was submerged in salt water, weighted, and allowed to brine for a minimum of 6 hours and up to overnight.  My cabbage ended up brining nearly 18 hours, a few more than recommended in the recipe. 

The cabbage was then drained, and spun in a salad spinner to remove excess moisture.  The drained cabbage was placed in a large bowl and tossed with the sugar until evenly coated.

The scallions and watercress (not pictured in the first photo) were cut into 1-inch pieces and placed in a food processor and processed until finely minced.

The scallion-watercress mince was added to the red cabbage and combined with the grated radish and pears.

 

The ginger root, garlic, fish sauce, shrimp paste, and red pepper were pureed in a blender and then poured over the fruit and vegetable mixture.

The resulting mixture was not particularly attractive. 

 

The bowl was covered loosely and allowed to ferment at room temperature.  The instructions indicated that fermentation would take anywhere from  2 to 6 days, until the kimchi reached a pH of 4.5, bubbles appeared, and the cabbage turned a bright uniform red.  We were still having some cool nights in early June, and my house as admittedly on the cool side.  Each day the kimchi grew more pungent, and there were a couple of days where removing the lid from the kimchi caused tears to flood my face.  The tear-inducing sharpness eventually lessened, although admittedly the kimchi did not look any more appetizing.  In fact it looked worse.  The watercress seemed to turn a muddy brown, more reminiscent of swamp than food.  The aroma of the kimchi grew increasingly more appealing and appetizing however, offsetting its rather dubious appearance. 

On the sixth day, the desired pH was achieved and the kimchi turned bright red.  Despite all the garlic and ginger, and a fair amount of chili pepper as well, it is not particularly hot.  I can feel the tickle of the ginger in my nostrils when I take a bite, but there is no real burn.  Instead I get a bit of crunch from the cabbage, a bit of fruitiness and a complex blend of cabbage and spice and something I can't quite put my finger on.   I almost want to eat it by the bowl-full. It seems to be altering my perceptions of kimchi, of the potentials of flavors, and blurring my mental lines separating Asian from Western flavors.

 

Interesting.  The clear winners here are my first kimchi, David Chang's recipe from Momofuku, and this red cabbage kimchi from Aki Kamozawa and Alexander Talbot's Ideas in Food.  I suppose I should not be surprised, both books are by chefs who have had a permanent impact on my understanding of food and cooking.  This does not mean that Kimchi 2 is completely out, although at the moment it is a distant 3rd.  I still intend to study the effect of aging on all three kimchi versions and what I love after three weeks may be completely disappointing after 3 months, or even more.  It is all a learning experience.

Yes, She Still Knits

Actually, it seems like I have hardly knitted at all in the past year or two.  And yet, starting to sew has rekindled my knitting, and my embroidery, with a touch of needlepoint thrown in as well.  With so many ongoing projects, visible results seem slow to materialize however. At least I finished the shawl I started over a year ago.  It amazes me how quickly things move along once I have a deadline, and how willing I am to let things slide without a due-date on the horizon.

 

The shawl was promised and the director of the shawl ministry wanted to be able to display it after church with other prayer shawls and a (small) selection of the clothes going to Bolivia for the children who live with their mothers in the Women's prison there.  One of my dresses is displayed (on the far right), but I made only a tiny contribution to this generous effort.  My lilac shawl is the one hanging on the front of the rack on the right side of the picture. The light is good for capturing the true color of the shawl.

These are the only photos I have of the finished shawl.  It was only after I sent it out that I realized I had forgotten to take pictures.  Somehow that is not surprising. 

 

In typical fashion, it was only after I got home and looked at the photos that I realized that the shawl had been hanging "wrong" side out.  Of course, as a shawl, the intention is that it be attractive on both sides,  There was some confusion over the border I chose to add to the shawl.  Apparently the border is considered more attractive on the back than the front. Aesthetic decisions are highly subjective anyway.

But this means that the only photo I have of the front of the pattern is the fairly poor photo from May of 2015.   I'm sure I'll use this pattern again as the results are lovely and it is fun to knit.  Hopefully I'll take photos the second time around.   I am happy that the shawl will  go somewhere where it is appreciated, rather than just occupying space in my drawer.  Much as I find it beautiful, I will never wear it.

 

 

 

 

Sunday Afternoon

Sunday, late.  I'm a little tired and unfocused.  Or perhaps it is just hot.  It has been a good weekend even if I missed my Saturday blog post.  Apparently deciding to arbitrarily change my writing and/or posting time is not as simple as it seemed.

Saturday was good, if perhaps overly ambitious.  It seems that is occasionally how things roll; there are ambitious days and less ambitious days and hopefully we can embrace both as they come.  But the ambitious part of the day is fodder for another post perhaps. 

 

Instead lets just enjoy a few contented moments. Tikka and I took our walk very early, around 6 AM and I snapped the photo above soon after we left the house.  We left early enough that it was still cool when we returned, and neither of us was eager to go indoors.

 

I worked in the garden while Tikka supervised.   My reward for cleaning out the herb garden was discovering a thriving mound of sage. The bonus was finding the first ripe blueberries of the year.   Those ripe berries were artfully hidden, but I managed to find a dozen and a half or so.  There are hundreds of berries on the bushes; I hope the birds will share.  The first blueberries of the season are a treat worth savoring.  I loved the way the yellow lilies lean into the blueberry bushes, and combination of blues and yellows. 

Today I waffled on an invitation.  I wanted to accept.  But I had obligations.  I felt I was behind on my own completely-arbitrary and self-imposed lists of things that "must be done".  But somehow my heart said go.  And so I did. and had a lovely time by the way.  Precious moments.  Always worth savoring.

 

Another Thursday, Another Kimchi

The Kimchi batches are almost two weeks old.  The recipes for both kimchi 1 and kimchi 2 state that they are best after 1 week in the refrigerator, and so I have sampled both this week.  But before I discuss my observed differences in the product, lets look at the process.  Last week, I posted about kimchi 1.  This week I'll review the making of kimchi 2.

 

As you may, or may not, recall, the ingredients were slightly different from David Chang's version.  There was no soy sauce or fish sauce and  the addition of an Asian pear, daikon radish, and rice flour.

The cabbage was cut into quarters lengthwise.  Then the quarters were cut into quarters again.  From looking at the photos in the book, these cuts were meant to be lengthwise as well, but I made the second set of cuts crosswise as the text did not specify.  I still have larger pieces of cabbage than in the David Chang version, and I believe I am happy that they are not really long.  Remember, I used 3/4 of a huge (4 pound) cabbage, or about 3 pounds of cabbage.

Then the cabbage was brined overnight.  For this version the cabbage was brined in salt water at room temperature. A weight was placed over the cabbage to insure that it remained submerged.

 

The next step is to make the rice flour paste.  Two tablespoons of sweet rice flour was cooked in one cup of water until it formed a thick, pudding like consistency.  Then it was set aside to cool.

 

Then make the marinade.  The onion, Asian pear, ginger, garlic, red chile, and water were combined to make a runny paste.  Everything fit into the small bowl of my food processor.

The marinade was combined with the shrimp, sugar, rice flour paste, scallions, grated carrots and more red chile.

The cabbage was rinsed and placed in a large bowl.  The shredded daikon and the marinade were added.  This recipe specifies that the ingredients be tossed together by hand, wearing gloves of course.  I'm not convinced that a spoon wouldn't work as well, but I still like the idea of contact, of the maker working with the ingredients, so of course I used my hands.

 

The bowl was covered and the kimchi was left at room temperature for one day.  Then it was packaged and put in the refrigerator.  The recipe warns that the kimchi will expand and may leak outside the container.  My bowl was plenty big, but later, in the refrigerator, I did have some leakage as the kimchi was pretty tightly packed in a 3 quart container.  Not surprisingly, starting with twice the amount of cabbage as the Chang recipe, yielded twice as much kimchi.

But how do they compare?  Above is a picture of the two kimchis after about 10 days. The one on the right is kimchi 1 (David Chang's recipe) and kimchi 2 is on the left (Koreatown).  The addition of soy sauce and fish sauce gives David Chang's version not only a much more vibrant color, but a more vibrant taste as well. 

 

Both are good.  They are also very different.  Kimchi 2 is mellower and softer in texture and flavor than kimchi 1.  It has an almost, but not quite, bland, comforting sense to it with just a touch of heat at the end.  Kimchi 1 is bright and vibrant and sparkly on the tongue at this stage and the flavors and textures are far more complexly nuanced and interesting. I am certain that this complexity, in both taste and color, is due to the addition of the soy sauce and fish sauce to the marinade.  The cabbage in kimchi 1 is also more toothsome, with a bit more cabbage flavor, than the cabbage in kimchi 2.  This may be due to the different brining techniques (in water as opposed to simply in salt alone). 

 

The heat or spice level of the two kimchis is also different.  David Chang's recipe calls for significantly more red chile than Koreatown's recipe does, but I halved the chile in version one, simply because I have made it before and the first version was too hot for me. Therefore the use of chile in the two versions was proportional to the weight of the cabbage.  But Chang's version was still more pungent, and spicier but not necessarily with more chile heat.  Kimchi 1 also called for significantly more garlic and ginger, which add to the flavor profile and yield a kimchi with a layered and complex spice that is not simply heat alone.  It is also likely that the presence of the rice paste in kimchi 2, although acting as a binder and perhaps aiding fermentation, also muted both the color and the flavor profile of the resulting kimchi.

 

At this stage, I think I like kimchi 1 better, especially for use as a condiment.  But kimchi 2 is also good and will be eaten. Both versions make a lovely omelet, the kimchi 2 version would be more soft and comforting, whereas kimchi 1 is more vibrant in combination with eggs.  It does not overpower them, they soften its profile, but the bright wake-up call is still present.  I suppose what is preferred is a matter of taste. I remain intrigued by the prospect of seeing how both versions age.

 

I can serve kimchi 2 to my mom.  I'm not convinced she will like kimchi 1.

 

 

Tears

Too many lives wrenched from life far too soon. Too many children are slaughtered.  Make no mistake, for the most part the victims of Orlando were children yet, perhaps beginning to play at adulthood, but not yet fully formed. We are all children.

 

Remember them.

 

Remember their parents in their unendurable grief. The mothers, who will never again hold them in their arms, who will never again run their fingers through their hair or caress their cheeks, remembering the permanent imprint of baby sweetness.  Remember them. Remember their fathers, perhaps less remonstrative and inclined to sentimental dreaming, the fathers who grieve no less deeply, whose children were no less a part of themselves.  Remember them.  Remember their sisters and brothers; their friends and neighbors.  Remember all the children who have died, and all who knew them.  We all knew them.  They are all our children. Remember them all.

 

Remember them.  Pray for them.  Pray for ourselves.  Ask the questions we don't want to face. Seek the answers we are afraid to find. What kind of people are we that we so regularly sacrifice our children at the altar of fear?  How many tears can the fabric of our culture sustain before there is nothing left to mend?

Saturday Afternoon

Another picture of daylilies in bloom.  You may grow tired of them; I never will.  I was amazed, when I had landscape people coming to the house, at how many thought daylilies were terrible plants.  Whereas I could have endless daylily borders had I the space.

This morning I took Tikka with me to the farmer's market.  We went early, so we could explore, she could sniff, and I treat myself to a little breakfast from one of the food trucks.   I finally figured out that dogs weren't allowed in the food stall area if they were on leashes, but there is no restriction against dogs who are being toted around by their owners.  So after our morning snack and another short stroll, I popped Tikka into a tote bag and away we went. 

She got to ride back to the car.  Today was my meat CSA pickup and she pretty much balanced the bag on the other shoulder which contained 4 game hens, and 6 pounds of ground meats, as well as a dozen eggs and big bag of holey collards.  I didn't take a picture of the meat, and aside from the collards, I picked up little this week.  I have a refrigerator full of kimchi and leftovers from last week's bounty, which I actually don't mindl.  Not at all.

I don't understand why people don't want produce that is less than pristine and perfect.  It is not just here, it was true where I lived before as well. Nature, in fact life in general, is rarely perfect.  If I wanted visual perfection I would shop at the grocery store.  I'd rather have flavor.  I love collards and there are lots of different ways to cook them.  I simply blanched these and put them aside for use during the coming week.  While I write this I am simmering the collard stems in the leftover blanching liquid.  That too will be saved,  and I'll end up with a couple of quarts of collard broth.

 

 

 

Kimchi One

This is a pretty quick and easy kimchi.  This recipe is from David Chang's book Momofuku. It was the first recipe I tried, although that decision was not based on any kind of analysis or research into kimchi-making.  Since starting to make kimchi, I have learned that there are all manner of variations and yet also a great similarity between recipes.  It seems you need to just start, and let your own kimchi, and your own technique, find its own groove.

As you might recall from Tuesday's post, these were the basic ingredients.

David Chang has you chop the cabbage into relatively small ribbons of about 1 inch in width.  I rather like the way this turns out.  The resulting kimchi is quite easy to use.  I have yet to determine what I think about the larger pieces of cabbage used in the next two kimchi versions. This recipe calls for a small to medium nappa cabbage.  The small cabbage is about 10 ounces.  The wedge is almost a quarter of a jumbo (4 pound) cabbage for a total of slightly over 1 1/2 pounds.

Next you massage the cut cabbage with 2 tablespoons each of sugar and salt an stick it in the refrigerator overnight.

When you pull it out the next day, you see that the cabbage has reduced in volume, and some liquid brine has developed.  Rinse the cabbage and allow it to air dry while you make the kimchi brine.

Peel 20 garlic cloves, and slice 20 coins from peeled gingerroot.  I obviously took this photo before engaging in a little necessary trimming.  But I'm just happy that I actually took photos.

Combine the garlic, ginger, gochugaru, fish sauce, soy sauce, sugar and shrimp to form a paste.  I used the food processor.

Add the kimchi brine to the cabbage along with the julienned carrots and the scallions (which have been cut into 1-inch lengths).  I made this fairly late after a fairly stressful day, and I forgot to add the carrots an scallions until after I took the photo.  You can use a spoon.  I used my hands, massaging the cabbage lightly as I blended.  I tend to think interacting with our food on a personal level is important.  Although scrupulously clean hands are fine for home cooking, if you have sensitive skin, or are inclined to be somewhat scatterbrained, I would recommend wearing gloves for this step, in order to avoid the risk of burnt skin or eyes.   

Pack the kimchi into a container and place it in the refrigerator to ferment.  It will start to be tasty the next day, but will be much better after a week.   I have left the kimchi out at room temperature for a day before adding it to the refrigerator, and that does speed the process and the funk factor, but I find that there is a shorter period where the kimchi is in that almost prickly, bubbly stage, a stage I particularly enjoy, before getting stinkier, softer and funkier.

The kimchi on day 5. I personally like this kimchi best when it is 2 to 4 weeks old.  I let the last batch last longer, over six weeks, and it was starting to get soft and funky by the time it was gone.  But this recipe only makes about 1 1/4 quarts of kimchi, and it usually doesn't last that long.  I'd like to experiment with aging some kimchi longer, and it seems, since I am about to have a kimchi glut in my refrigerator, I may soon have that opportunity.

 

 

 

Kimchi Explorations

Cole asked about my kimchi process.

 

As it happens I was thinking about expanding my kimchi horizons.  I've made several batches of my basic kimchi for a while now, but I know that there are many techniques and many variations and thought it would be interesting to try something different.  I decided to make the kimchi the way I have been making it, using my slightly modified version of David Chang's kimchi recipe in Momofuku as a control, and make two other batches of kimchi at the same time.    I'm not sure that any one style of kimchi is better, or even perhaps more "authentic" than another.  Times change, tastes change, what is authentic to me and probably to most people is what their grandmother made.  Of course my grandmother never made kimchi.  I suppose what is important is what I like.  I like what I have been making, but I'll never know why, or even if I am missing something, unless I try something else. I decided to make another version of a fairly traditional baechu or napa cabbage kimchi and something that was entirely different.

 

Kimchi #1:

Above are the ingredients for David Chang's paechu kimchi.   This recipe calls for a small to medium napa cabbage and I could only find a very small one last week, so there is also a wedge from a jumbo cabbage.  Along with the cabbage, the recipe calls for scallions, carrots, ginger and garlic, in fairly small quantities, as well as sugar, salt, soy sauce, fish sauce, salted fermented shrimp, and gochugaru, or ground red chile.

 

Kimchi #2

 

The second recipe I chose is from Koreatown by  Deuki Hong and Matt Rodebard. Although you can't tell from this photo, this recipe makes a much larger batch of kimchi, starting out with twice the amount of napa cabbage as in the first recipe.  There are other differences as well.  This recipe calls for scallion greens (although I show the entire scallion here), small quantities of garlic and ginger, onion, daikon radish, and Asian pear. There is no soy sauce or fish sauce, only salted fermented shrimp. This recipe also calls for a paste made from the sweet rice flour and water.  The wrong version of gochugaru is pictured.  The recipe actually specifies the coarser grind, which I do have, but I neglected to change out the jar when gathering ingredients for the photo.

 

Kimchi #3

And then I decided to go a little wild.  The third kimchi is from Aki Kamazowa and Alexander Talbot's book Ideas in Food.  After reading this recipe I learned that fermented pickles are deemed ready when they reach a ph of 3.5, which also happens to be the ph at which red cabbage changes color and becomes a bright reddish purple.  Besides, this version just sounded interesting and I am intrigued.  Substitute the red cabbage for the napa cabbage.  There is a lot more ginger and a lot more garlic in this recipe, as well as six bosc pears and a rather large amount of daikon radish.  The recipe actually called for Korean radish, but I couldn't find one.  The flavor is different.  I think of Korean radish as being a bit more peppery than daikon, which would have been interesting with the sweetness of the red cabbage and the pears. Watercress is also included but I forgot to put it in the photo. This recipe calls for shrimp paste rather than fermented shrimp, and I used gochugaru rather than the combination of cayenne and crushed red pepper called for in the recipe.

 

All three recipes call for brining the cabbage for at least six and up to eighteen hours.  Chang brines his cabbage dry in the refrigerator, after massaging the cabbage with salt and sugar.  In the other two versions of kimchi, the cabbage was brined in a solution of water and salt at room temperature.  Above are all three batches of cabbage, ready to begin brining.

 

From here on out the recipes differ and I will post about them separately.  As I write this I have no idea how they will turn out, or what I will think.  It should be fun.