I feel that it is important to take a moment to share this with you, my only friends.

The kim chee quesadilla is the most perfect of snacks. It combines the impulsive snacky goodness of the quesadilla with the mysterious and exotic flavors of the far Orient. It’s Mexorean. It’s Korexican.

Ingredients:
Whole Wheat Tortillas
Big Block of Cheese
Mild Kim Chee

Do it exactly like this or you may die.  This is not a game.

Get two whole wheat tortillas (did I mention that it’s health food?) and butter them (not… you know… HEALTH food…). Put one of aforementioned unleavened bread products, butter down, into hot (quite hot, really) pan.

Summarily, tweeze out pieces of mild kim chee in even layer across sizzling circle.

Why mild? Well, I don’t think “mild” means the same thing in Korean that it does in English. It’s more like “slightly less severely hot.” Too hot, and you’ll miss the subtle flavor nuances of the block cheese.

Next, apply coarsely shredded block cheese in thin layer over kim chee. Do not over-cheese. Whatever you do, do not under-cheese. You must strive for the Middle Way of Cheesiness.

Hastily apply second tortilla, butter side out to top of pile.

At this point, I like to cover the pan with a lid for just a minute to induce the transition to liquid of the cheese-like material. Quick! Remove the lid! Flip the kimchadilla!

Hopefully, you’ve achieved appropriate meltiosity to retain structural integrity. If not, jam everything back in there and flatten out the tortilla.

Now, fry unto perfection. If you weren’t paying attention earlier when I said “quite hot” pan, you may need another flip-n-fry to get crispy brown goodness.

Remove quesimchee from pan, let cool for 90 seconds. Slice into exactly 12 pie shaped wedges. Consume entire thing as quickly as possible while dripping greasy red sauce on your shirt. Wash shirt. (Note: Stains will not come out.  Throw away shirt.)

The KimChadilla (tm)

Adapted from the recipe in the book called “The Great Curries of India” by Camellia Panjabi:

• 2 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken (light or dark or mixed, whatever tickles yer trigger)
• 1 c. grated coconut (look at the Asian market in the freezer section if you don’t feel like cracking open a coconut, which I did not)
• 10 tsp. chopped garlic (or ~12 cloves, but again, I decided to save a couple minutes and use the HUGE jar in my fridge)
• 1 tsp. ground ginger (the wet stuff from the jar… or 1/2″ knob, peeled and chopped)
• 2 1/2 Tbsp. coriander seeds
• 1/2 tsp. black peppercorns
• 2 tsp. cumin seeds
• 6 cloves
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1/2 lb. cashews
• 1 large onion, chopped
• ~4 Tbsp. oil
• salt and pepper
• 1 Tbsp. honey
• *3 dark red chiles: california or guajillo (I didn’t add these because my kids would have a seizure if they so much as tasted a flake of red pepper in their dinner.  God forbid.)

1. Cut up your chicken into 1″ or so chunks.  I asked for a bit less than the original because I used boneless this time.  It’d be good either way, but I had 2 lbs. of breasts in the fridge.
2. Chop up the onion.
3. Fry the coconut, garlic, ginger, coriander, peppercorns, cumin seeds, cloves, and cinnamon over low heat for 5 minutes.  (Include the pepper if you’re using it.)
4. Add 2oz. of the cashews and the onion.  Cook for 10 more minutes.
5. While that’s cooking, grind up an ounce more of cashews into a fine paste (add some water).  Honestly, I’m not entirely sure that you couldn’t just add this ounce in with the other 2 oz.  You grind it all up anyway, but I suspect it’s the difference in cooking time that creates a different flavor note, so what the hell.  Still, if you wanna simplify… go for it.  Just don’t say I told you to if you get caught.
6. Let the spice mix cool down a bit… you need to grind it up in the food processor.  Once cool, add 3/4 c. water and grind the bejeezus out of it.  You want it to turn into a very fine paste to form a nice creamy sauce.  Grind, scrape, grind, scrape, etc.
7. In a large pot, heat the oil, add the ground spices, and fry it for 10 minutes.  Keep stirring so it doesn’t get too cooked on, but don’t sweat it if it does… you’ll add water later, and it’ll cook off.
8. Add the extra ounce of ground cashews and cook for another couple of minutes.
9. Salt to taste… in fact, I’d say salt a bit more than you think you need– don’t go crazy, but after you add the chicken and cook it, you’ll likely add more anyway.
10. Add the chicken and fry on medium for 5 minutes.
11. Add 3 c. water and cover.  Turn the heat down, and let it simmer for 10 minutes or so.
12. Taste it again… I found it to be a little flat still, and so I added 1 Tbsp. honey, 1 tsp. soy sauce, and a bit more salt and pepper.  That did the trick.  The honey really helped to bring out the taste of the coconut and nuts.  And I add soy sauce to everything these days for a little “umami” kick.
13. Add the remaining cashews and cook until… well… you think it’s done.  Longer if you have chicken on the bone or just want to cook it down a bit.

Assuming you’re older than six, you’ll wanna add some heat.  Choose your favorite method and add a touch.  It’s much better with a bit of a burn.  The flavor’s great, but there’s very little acidity or heat.  That makes for a lot of “bass notes” and not much in the upper register.  The original recipe also suggests serving it with lemon.

And now… the food pr0n:

Lunch!

Oh, speaking of that… remember how I didn’t have my camera when I made kara age?  Good news.  I made more and took a picture:

As good as it looks...

And… lastly… we believe that we have figured out who’s been eating our adopted yard cat’s nuggets every night:

Bad... uh... kitty? Dog? Ground Monkey?

Gotta jot this down before I forget…

Rian’s Really Good Okonomiyaki

Firstly, I have to say that this is going to require a trip to the Japanese market.  Even the “Asian” market isn’t going to cut it.  Nagaimo is something like taro root.  You grate it up, and it makes something slimy and disgusting, but okonomiyaki is pretty lifeless without it.  You also need okonomiyaki sauce, aonori (a kind of powdered seaweed), and katsuobushi (shaved dried, fermented, and smoked bonito flakes).  You might also want the official mayo of Japan– Kewpie.  It comes in a good bottle for squeezing onto things and it’s not as sweet as American mayo.  Find these items.  You NEED them.  Find someone who lives in civilization to send you some.

I’ve experienced many variations on the okonomiyaki– from our favorite Don Don Yaki in Japan to nasty plaster-like improvised versions made without the stuff I just said you need.  So, I’m not just being a dick and saying “oh, I’m so cool, I know what katsuobushi is…”  I’m not JUST doing that.  I’m doing that, but I’m also telling the truth that you should get these things.

• 2-3″ nagaimo, grated.  They also sell a powdered version.  Hell, for that matter, they sell a powdered okonomiyaki mix with most of this stuff in it.  Why not just buy a frozen pizza?!  Jesus, you people.
• 2 oz. flour (I use King Arthur’s white whole wheat)
• 3 Tbsp. dashi (recipe below, but you can use the powdered stuff)
• 1 large egg
• 1 Tbsp beni shouga (red pickled ginger, kind of optional, but I like it in there)
• 2 Tbsp chopped negi (green onions, also kind of optional)
• 2 Tbsp tenkasu (originally, fried tempura batter leftovers, but you can buy it in bags at Japanese food stores)
• 1 c. chopped cabbage
• A couple slices of pork belly/bacon/some octopus/shrimp/whatever else floats yer boat.  I’m gonna try chopping up some little dried sardines next time.  How about corn?  Sure!

1. Mix the flour, dashi (more on this in a bit), egg, and nagaimo into a nice smooth batter.  Some people put in a bit of baking powder here, too, but it doesn’t seem to be necessary given the relative unimportance of the flour as much more than a binder.
2. Fold in the other stuff (except the pork and toppings, of course).  You just need to coat the coarser ingredients.  Don’t beat the heck out of it.
3. Smear a pan with oil, get it relatively hot (maybe medium), and dump yer batter into a nice 8″ or so circle.
4. If you’re going to put pork on it (sorta seems to be the standard, at least where I lived in Kobe), lay some 2-3″ slices on top now.  Brush them with a little remaining batter from the bowl, lest they get very stiff.
5. Cover the whole thing, and let it steam for ~5 minutes.  The pork should look like it’s started to cook when you’re done.
6. Now… be one with the pancake, imagine it already flipped… see it… in your mind… QUICK!  TAKE TWO SPATULAS AND FLIP IT OVER!  DON’T HESITATE!  WE ARE ALL ONE WITH THE UNIVERSE!!!
7. How’d that go?
8. OK, clean up the mess… try to make it look like one thing again in the pan…
9. You’ll get it.
10. Do not smash down on it with your spatula like you’re cooking a hamburger.  For that matter, don’t do that when you’re making a hamburger.
11. Cook what’s left until it’s good and brown on the bottom, another 5 minutes, maybe, but keep an eye on it… and… oh boy… get your spatulas out again…
12. One with the pancake… mind’s eye… flip!
13. Assuming there’s anything in the pan anymore, brush the whole thing with okonomiyaki sauce.  Draw a criss-cross pattern on it with Kewpie mayo.  Sprinkle aggressively with aonori (powdered seaweed).  Lastly, sprinkle a handful of katsuobushi over the top.
14. Eat until you’re 80% full.

Dashi: There’s stuff in a jar or can called “dashi no moto”.  If you are a glutton for punishment, like I am, though, you’ll want to make your own dashi.  It’s pretty easy.  Get some kombu seaweed at the Japanese market (ask/look for the dashi kind), put about 4 c. of water into a pan, stick a 4-8″ chunk of the kombu in.  Stick a big handful of katsuobushi in there.  I also put in a few dried shiitake in for good measure.  Bring the whole thing almost to a boil (but not quite– boiling the kombu apparently brings out some nasty bitterness).  Let it simmer for 5-10 minutes or so… then strain the liquid into a jar.  You can keep the chunks for a lighter “second dashi” if you have any desire to do that for something where the flavor’s less important.  You basically just do this over again with the same pieces.

Yeah, no pictures again, sorry.  Shizuokagourmet’s blog has a pretty good picture:

Hey.

What’s up?

Oh yeah? Cool.

Yeah… me? Not much.

Good, now that we have THAT out of the way, let us resume talking about food and stuff. Due to factors too detailed to discuss, we’re gonna have to spend less time in the garden and more time in the kitchen. Still, as my zen friends like to say… that is what is.

What’s happened in the last… oh… several months? No one else died, for starters. On the other hand, I got a bunch of new chickens for the house, and one of them is… less henny and more roostery. I hope it ends well for MayBill (nee Maybelle), but it ain’t gonna end at the house. The Backyard Farm Store takes misdiagnosed hens “out to the farm” every week. (N.B., I believe they actually do take them to a farm, and they assert that they live out their lives in Caligula-like decadence. Sure. Why not.)

Otherwise, the white peaches have leaf curl despite two sprayings of Copper this winter. The other peach is on its last legs. Note to Pacific Northwesterners, farmer’s markets sell peaches. K? Unless you prefer to live in the garden equivalent of a hospice, buy them there.

The bees have been cranking out honey like the stuff grows on trees. So far, I’ve extracted two quarts, and they were so busy they barely took note of my presence. I’d like to get out there and make sure they’re not packing for a swarm (I figger I’ll split the hive when the swarm cells show up, and get two again.) Unfortunately, this is probably the crappiest spring weather on record (for me, anyway). I always tell people how it rains like hell in the winter and then is clear from about April to October… hah… I lie.

My own foodie perspective has shifted a bit. I’m much more interested in exploring food preparation these days. Specifically, I’ve begun to pursue my interests in Japanese and Indian cooking. Mostly, so far, it’s just cost me a lot of money. A recent trip to the local Japanese megamart (Uwajimaya) ran up to no less than $400. A good part of that was a suihanki (automatic rice cooker), but it’s amazing how fast little packs of seaweed and crap can add up.

The good news is that once you’ve visited Indian Food World for a jar of asafoetida and bag of star anise, you’re pretty much stocked… forever. I’ve got enough kombu seaweed in my freezer to make dashi (er… soup base?) until hell freezes over. The rice cooker that we brought back from Japan some six years ago continues to crank out batch after batch of perfect rice today.  I assume that my new one will last a while.

OK, Ri, you’re saying… where’s the useful information? Jesus… relax… I’m getting there.

So far, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve mastered (like 100-year-living-on-a-mountain mastered) okonomiyaki, the poorly-named “Japanese pizza”, which it is not. I will do a whole episode on that one when I have my camera, which I do not.

Today’s adventure, though, is kara age, fried chicken nuggets. These little monsters are right up there with gyouza for their insatiable eatiness. It’s one of the dishes that I find myself practicing “enryou” (or polite restraint) when there’s a plate (or cup, if you’re at a street festival in Japan) in front of me. Beer and kara age. Picture me all fat, greasy-mouthed, and drunk. Smiling.

Rian’s Really Good Kara Age

• Oil for frying (I use canola to fry, but there’s absolutely no good reason for that, other than it doesn’t smoke as easily as olive)
• 1.5 lbs, or so, chicken thigh (thigh beats breast since it doesn’t dry out as much. Cut into bite-sizes chunks)
• 1 c. or so katakuriko (potato starch, get it at the Asian market. Don’t sweat the amount.  Enough to coat the chicken pieces)
• 1/4 c. soy sauce (I prefer low-sodium, in general.  Less sodium.)
• 1/4 c. mirin (rice wine?  mostly called mirin… Asian foods aisles usually have it)
• 2-3 Tbsp sake (err… also rice wine… interestingly, all booze is “sake” in Japan.  This is called “nihonshuu” or Japan Booze.  It should be good enough to drink without flinching.)
• 1-2″ knob of fresh ginger, or maybe 1tsp? of the paste (sold in tubes near the chopped garlic in produce, usually)
• Optional additions:
  - A smidge of 5-spice powder
  - 1 tsp crushed garlic (*yes!)
  - a dash of white, togarashi, and/or black pepper (*yes!)
  - 1 Tbsp sesame oil
  - hell, put cocoa in there if you feel like it, this is one of those things that’s made a lot of different ways in the Olde Country.  Probably not with cocoa, though.

I’m still feeling my way around this stuff.  I have it all kinds of different ways, and most were pretty dang good.  That leads me to believe that it’s relatively hard to screw up if you get your oil temperature right.  Too cool, and it’s greasy.  Too hot, and it burns on the outside, doesn’t cook through, and ultimately tastes funky.

Note that you should own a thermometer.  Just spend the $35 or whatever and get one.  You could also throw <fill in thing> and wait <fill in time> for it to be <fill in condition>.  You’ll probably throw it in once and figure “close enough” even though it was way too cool or hot.  Just get a thermometer.

Right, where was I?  OK, so, take yer chicken bits and put them in a bowl with everything but the potato starch and frying oil, obviously.  Mix it all up and let it sit for 30-60 minutes.  I’ve read that the sodium will actually toughen up the meat if it sits too long, though I have no empirical evidence to support that assertion.  Try it, and let me know what happens.

After that, heat up your oil to 350-375 degrees F (roughly 175C, for you foreigners).  You are, by now, using your thermometer.

Take yer chicken bits out of the marinade and toss them in your potato starch until they’re well coated.  Lay them out on a baking sheet.  Cover another baking sheet with a couple of layers of paper towels.

It’s go time.

Put the chicken into the thermometer-controlled hot oil.  Do a few pieces at a time because they’ll a) cool the oil down, and b) turn into a stuck together mass if you put too many in.  Fry them until they are a delicious brown– sorry, use your better judgment.  When done, use your spider (I’ve quickly found this bamboo-handled, wire-mesh Chinese frying tool to be indispensible.  They have them almost everywhere now.  I got mine at Target, I think.) to extract the chicken nuggets, drain them a tad, and then spread them out on the paper towels.

Do the rest like that.

Let ‘em cool a bit and then eat until you’re 80% full.  Give the rest to your grateful friends and family.

Where’s the super shiny picture?  See earlier comment on “not having camera.”  So… look at this randomly chosen picture:

From: wendalicious on flickr

They should look something like that.

Enjoy. A nice squeeze of lemon on them is usually tasty and doesn’t overwhelm the flavor.