INCREASINGLY, I have found myself eating kimchi, the super-spicy Korean pickle dish that is served before and with meals in every Korean restaurant and many Korean homes.
Wanting to serve it at home, I bought some in jars. But it bore little resemblance to the fresh-tasting kimchi I was finding in restaurants. Restaurant kimchi can be mild or almost too hot to take, but it always sparkles with the flavors of raw garlic, ginger, scallions and chilies.
The kimchi in jars is muddier. If it isn't already fermented, a little bubbly and beginning to sour, it usually becomes so within a couple of days of opening the jar.
Despite consulting dozens of books, I was unable to find a recipe that gave me the fresh results I wanted. Most recipes were overly complicated, requiring layered ingredients, sealed crocks and days of waiting.
It turns out there are two traditional methods of making kimchi. The long, layered method outlined by many cookbooks is the one used each fall when Koreans traditionally stock up on cabbages and other vegetables for the winter ahead. It is the equivalent of pickling cucumbers in vinegar or making sauerkraut, and it produces what is called winter kimchi.
The fresh version of kimchi I was looking for -- seasonal kimchi -- is more like lightly salted, kosher pickles, something you can make and eat the same day. This is the type most frequently served in restaurants.
For direction, I turned to Lee Young Hee, once the kimchi maker at Korea Palace, a restaurant on East 54th Street. She began with a head of Napa cabbage that had been salted for two hours and was quite wilted. After rinsing it, she mixed together fine strips of daikon, the long white Asian radish; an astonishing amount of ground red Korean chilies; more moderate amounts of garlic, ginger, sugar and scallions, and a few tablespoons each of fish sauce (the fermented anchovy juice used in many Asian cuisines) and salted fish. This mixture was then tucked among the leaves of the cabbage, and the kimchi was done -- and delicious.
On West 32d Street, between Fifth Avenue and Avenue of the Americas, where Korean stores abound, I bought a supply of ground red Korean chiles, some salted shrimp (you can use almost any salted fish or omit it altogether) and a few other staples.
That evening, I made my first batch of fresh kimchi -- reducing the amount of ground red chilies by about 80 percent, to levels my family and I find more tolerable -- and I have been making it ever since.
Of course, I'm not alone among non-Koreans who have been exploring the world of kimchi. Steve Johnson, the chef at the Mercury Bar in Boston, said: "I've been making it for a few months, and it gets better and better with every batch. I love it with a good steak, because it cuts right through the richness."
And Carole Peck, the chef and owner of the Good News Cafe in Woodbury, Conn., has been making a fresh kimchi for years. "I make a purely vegetarian version with pickling cucumbers that I like, and a cabbage kimchi with fermented oysters that I serve with pan-seared red snapper."
One caveat: Even the fans of kimchi recognize that it has its downside. Any dish that contains several tablespoons of minced raw garlic, ginger and scallions is bound to have a negative effect on the breath.
"I think kimchi is fabulous," said Anne Rosenzweig, the chef and an owner of Arcadia and Lobster Club, who makes a long-keeping winter-style kimchi. "I make it, I eat it, and I love it -- we eat it with steamed rice and grilled ribs -- but it's strictly for the staff. And I can't let my front-of-the-house staff eat it before they wait on customers."
Carole Peck's Fresh Cucumber Kimchi Total time: about 3 1/2 hours
3 pounds pickling cucumbers, well scrubbed 2 tablespoons coarse salt 2 cups peeled and julienne daikon radish 1 1/2 tablespoons or more of ground red Korean chilies 3 large cloves garlic, peeled and smashed 2 tablespoons peeled and minced or grated ginger 6 scallions, thinly sliced 1/4 cup sesame oil 1 1/2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds.
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FARE OF THE COUNTRY; KOREA'S FIERY KIMCHI
By TERRY TRUCCO
Published: January 22, 1984
The visitor to any residential district in Seoul cannot fail to notice all the tall earthenware pots that dot rooftops and balconies of most Korean homes. These stately urns contain Korea's most popular food - the spicy pickled vegetables known as kimchi.
TERRY TRUCCO is a Tokyo-based writer. It is as hard to ignore kimchi in Korea as rice in Japan; these fiery pickles are so good, no one would want to overlook them. No self- respecting Korean restaurant is without at least four or five kimchi concoctions and a few, such as Seoul's charming Dae Won Gak, feature nearly a dozen varieties.
Indeed, kimchi has been designated an official National Treasure by the South Korean Government. Most Koreans eat it three times a day, all year round. Liberally seasoned with hot peppers and garlic, kimchi is pungent stuff, both when it is going down and especially a few hours later.
''In Korea, you learn to eat kimchi in self- defense,'' says a British journalist who recently moved to Seoul.
Kimchi is equally strong in tradition and lore, synonymous with Korean social norms and culture. Some Koreans like to say it is the nation's lifeblood. A Seoul businessman neatly sums it up: ''Without kimchi, we Koreans would die.'' No one knows precisely how or when kimchi first appeared, but Koreans believe it has been around in some form for 2,000 years. Made from vegetables, spices and, occasionally, fish, it is the logical food for a nation where winters are cold and where meat-eating for many years was frowned upon by the Buddhists. Kimchi is also high in vitamins, notably B1, B2, B12 and C, as well as iron and minerals, particularly calcium. The lone drawback is the huge quantity of salt used as a preservative.
Eggplant, scallions, radishes and squash are just a few of the most common kimchi vegetables. Most popular by far is pechu, a type of Chinese cabbage, the basis of tong kimchi, the winter staple that feeds most of Korea. Kimjang, the annual autumn kimchi- making season, is a major event on the social calendar. At Seoul's outdoor markets, vendors arrive in trucks with pechu piled six feet high, and housewives haul off the 100 cabbages needed to feed a family of five for the winter. ''How's your kimchi coming along?'' is a common greeting of the season.
Making kimchi busies several generations of women from different families. They gather at one home, much as Americans at a quilting bee, to cut, wash and season the vegetables. It is considered a key skill for all prospective brides, and a woman's culinary abilities are still judged on how good her kimchi tastes.
The recipe for tong kimchi follows the basic kimchi formula. Slice cabbage vertically in half and place it in salted water for at least seven hours. Slice long white radishes into strips and combine with garlic, salt and hot peppers ground to powder. Add a dash of sugar and Oriental onion. Next, spread the seasoned radish sauce onto the pechu leaves, carefully place them in a kimchi jar, add water and brew for at least 15 days. In the countryside, pots of fermenting kimchi are buried in the ground next to the house. In the city, they are left on the roof or balcony.
Autumn and spring kimchi are made in smaller quantities, about once a week or so; in summer, kimchi is prepared daily, since it ferments quickly and lasts only three or four days.
Each Korean province boasts a specialty, usually determined by the types of vegetables grown in the area. Kakutoki, a scorcher made from white radishes, comes from Kongju in central Korea. Pa kimchi's pickled scallions originated in the south, while the north is responsible for both tong kimchi and possam kimchi, perhaps the most elegant strain. Traditionally the food of Korean royalty, possam kimchi, or wrapped kimchi, again uses pechu, but before pickling, the leaves are filled with specially prepared vegetables or fish. This is particularly popular at the new year, since fish cannot be preserved as long as vegetables.
Other common varieties include tongchimi, a radish kimchi pickled in salted soup (served cold, the soup is delicious alone) and hobak kimchi, which uses ripe yellow squash.
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Recipe: Seared Pork Chops With Kimchi
Published: January 16, 2008
Time: 30 minutes plus 30 minutes to 24 hours’ refrigeration
4 bone-in pork chops, 1 inch thick
6 tablespoons chopped kimchi (sold in Asian markets)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 cup white wine or vermouth
1 to 2 teaspoons honey, or to taste
1 tablespoon butter
Chopped scallions, for garnish.
1. Smear pork chops with 2 tablespoons kimchi and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes and up to 24 hours (the longer the better).
2. Wipe off pork to remove pieces of clinging kimchi, and add those pieces to remaining 4 tablespoons kimchi. Heat oil in a large skillet over high heat. Sear pork until golden brown on both sides, about 3 minutes a side. Reduce heat to low and continue cooking pork until done to taste, about 7 minutes longer, turning once. Transfer pork to a plate and cover with foil to keep warm.
3. Add wine, 1 teaspoon honey and kimchi to skillet. Raise heat to high and simmer, scraping up browned bits, until almost all liquid has evaporated, about 3 minutes. Whisk in butter. Taste and add more honey if needed; sauce should be tart but not puckery.
4. Serve pork chops coated with sauce and garnished with scallions.
Yield: 2 servings.
CHOICE TABLES; From Foie Gras to Kimchi, Eclectic Menus in Seoul
By NINA SIMONDS
Published: June 3, 2001
IT'S been 20 years since my last visit to Seoul, and in that time, the city has transformed itself into a sophisticated, cosmopolitan center with broad avenues that are reminiscent of Western cities. Despite the glamour of soaring skyscrapers and chic designer boutiques, its spirit remains distinctly Asian -- from the thriving all-night markets where vendors offer extraordinary bargains on every type of goods imaginable to the charming traditional teahouses where customers trade gossip, nibble on sweet rice pastries and sip fragrant tea.
During a February visit, I also discovered that Seoul offered irresistible and eclectic food. There is something for everyone from carnivores who relish great beef to vegetarians who delight in imaginative, even exciting, vegetarian dishes.
These days, visitors to Korea may be surprised: despite a slow start, Seoul has become one of the hippest cities in Asia and a great place to visit, especially with a voracious appetite.
SamWon Garden
Bulgogi, or barbecued beef, is one of Korea's most famous dishes, and while some may feel squeamish about eating meat, given recent health concerns in Europe, here beef is a national treasure. (The Korean National Tourism Organization assured me that there is no history or evidence of mad cow or foot-and-mouth disease in Korea.) Carnivores can celebrate.
For Korean barbecue, slices of tender, marinated sirloin or meaty spareribs are cooked on a tabletop grill with scallions and other vegetables (my Korean companion and I added enokitake mushrooms) and stuffed into lettuce leaves with pickled vegetables, fresh sesame leaves, sliced garlic and a dab or two of hot chili paste. (For extra zip, my Korean friend added slices of hot green chilies.) The meal-in-one roll-ups were scrumptious.
Even vegetarians will be satisfied since the meal begins -- as many do -- with the serving of a mini-smorgasbord of various kimchis (Korea's national dish of spicy pickled vegetables), including individual dishes of pickled onions, cabbage and cucumbers, and a delightful rice noodle salad with bean sprouts. To end the meal, you order cold and refreshing naengmyun, or buckwheat and yam noodles in a spicy or plain broth. The noodles are seasoned by adding mustard, vinegar and the ever-present hot chili paste. If you want dessert and can even think of eating more food, there's a delicate, sweet red bean soup.
Even if you aren't in the mood for barbecue, the SamWon Garden is fun, with its Las Vegas-style waterfall and autographed postcards of Grace Park, Korea's pre-eminent golf champion and national hero (her parents own the restaurant). The folksy wooden chairs and marble slab tables in the two spacious rooms create an appealing and casual atmosphere; the restaurant can seat up to 1,200. Korean barbecue can be expensive, depending on the quality of the meat, but prices at the SamWon are reasonable.
For beverages, the selection is limited to juice, soft drinks, beer and wine.
Pul Hyanggi
From outward appearances, this restaurant is a modest little place, not far from the Grand Hyatt, but upon entering you are transported to an enchanting traditional Korean house: bold calligraphy hangings line the walls, and colorful patchwork table mats with origamilike patterns adorn the handsome, low wooden tables. Most of the seating is on the floor, but pillows cushion the hardness; some tables have wells for feet.
The restaurant specializes in elegant, mainly vegetarian dishes with some selected meat and seafood specialties, as well as a number of refined dishes from the royal court. All meals are set menus with 14, 17 and 19 courses.
We chose the 17-course meal and were overwhelmed as the table was quickly covered with numerous beautifully arranged dishes. It all comes at once, but the portions are small and each dish offers mouthfuls of wonderful, contrasting flavors and textures.
Don't be discouraged by the first course, a bland soybean porridge. Continue on and enjoy the delicate salad greens lightly dressed with a mustardy vinaigrette, the tender-as-butter braised short ribs and the pieces of octopus glistening with fiery-hot chili paste. Another favorite was a roll-up made with a selection of cooked seasonal vegetables that we wrapped in blanched pumpkin leaves with a little rice and hot chili paste.
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Hiroko Masuike for The New York Times
Jennifer Maeng, whose restaurant, Korean Temple Cuisine, is among a new wave of Korean restaurants that emphasize décor and service.
By SAKI KNAFO
Published: August 7, 2005
KOREAN TEMPLE CUISINE is a sliver of an East Village restaurant appointed with colorful abstract photographs, art-quality shots of the New York skyline and jewel-toned cushions. The narrow space is filled with an endless array of items designed to catch the eye - garlands strung with mirrored tiles, table lamps suspended upside down from the ceiling - and yet on a recent Tuesday evening, several patrons gazed perplexedly at their plates.
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Hiroko Masuike for The New York Times
The traditional K-Town dining experience often involves strips of hot beef cooked over an open flame at table grills.
These customers had been presented with an order of bibimbop, sliced mountain vegetables and a fried egg heaped atop a mound of rice and served in a stone bowl. As they contemplated the steaming dish, the restaurant's 23-year-old owner, Jennifer Maeng, hurried over to reassure them. "Bibimbop basically means mix it all together," she informed them, demonstrating with chopsticks. She then launched into a disquisition on the finer points of Korean cooking.
As she spoke in her polite, lightly accented voice, her customers watched intently, unaware that by being so attentive, Ms. Maeng had essentially bucked more than two decades of Korean dining tradition.
"We want people to understand what they are eating," she explained afterward, contrasting her style of service with that found in more traditional Korean restaurants, which she characterized as embodying the philosophy: " 'Let's put it on the table, and let them figure it out.' " By adopting new approaches like doting service, chic décor and creative food presentation, Ms. Maeng thinks, New York's Korean restaurants can do much to take their cuisine to the next level and perhaps help it become as popular as Japanese food, which has so powerfully captivated the New York palate in recent years.
"Right now there are many Japanese restaurants, almost as much as Italian food," Ms. Maeng said. "But as soon as people get friendly with Korean food, it's going to spread as much."
Ms. Maeng is part of a new wave of Korean-American restaurateurs whose goal is to put a modern spin on their traditional cuisine. Korean Temple Cuisine, on St. Marks Place near First Avenue, is one of at least 10 Korean restaurants that have opened in Manhattan in the past five years outside Koreatown, the group of old-style restaurants and other Korean businesses clustered on and near a single block of West 32nd Street. Another new-wave place is set to open in Midtown this month. Along with a handful of pioneering arrivals on 32nd Street, these new-wavers have combined to dispense with all manner of Koreatown traditions, from free side dishes and scorching spices to emergency room-style ambience.
A look at the success of Japanese food shows what is motivating many of these Korean restaurateurs. one of the city's highest-priced restaurant meals can be had at Masa, the extravagant sushi palace in the Time Warner Center, for more than $300 a person. In the 2005 online Zagat Survey, 20 Asian restaurants received an elite food ranking of 26 or above. one was Indian; one was Thai, another buzzworthy Asian cuisine; all the others were Japanese. And while a completely accurate count of the city's Japanese restaurants is hard to come by, the printed Zagat Survey listed 84 places, compared with 15 Korean.
The Koreans have an ambitious goal, and even among their ranks, there are skeptics. one is Kori Kim, the owner and chef of Kori, a six-year-old establishment in TriBeCa. Though Ms. Kim describes herself as a Korean homemaker, and at 53 is a generation older than most new-wave Korean restaurateurs, she offers new-wave essentials like subdued lighting and artfully arranged plates of food.
Still, she said she was not convinced that Korean food could rival Japanese cuisine in popularity anytime soon.
"Americans, especially New Yorkers, they can eat Japanese food twice, three times a week," she said. "But Korean food is a little bit too spicy. I think it will not be so easy."
The Old Style: Brisk and Brusque
Outside the small group of newer Korean restaurateurs, the basic Korean food scene has remained fairly static over the years, though the overall number of establishments has grown. According to The Korea Times New York Business Directory, which claims to include listings for 80 to 90 percent of Korean restaurants in the city, there are 51 Korean restaurants in Manhattan, an increase of more than 50 percent from just five years ago.
