A Korean assortment.

A big icy hello from the frozen South Korean countryside. I’ve been here for only a few short days and am already smitten with the food I’ve tasted and intoxicated with endless possibility. I’m not living in a buzzing metropolis, but nevertheless there is an array of exciting eating options. Take this dwaeji galbi (pictured above), eaten in a cavernous and otherwise empty Korean BBQ joint on a night where your breath freezes inside your mouth and icicles form on eyelashes. These pork ribs were fatty delicious and caramelised, filling and warming and served alongside an embarrassment of banchan.

I don’t have any dishes or restaurants to tell you about just yet, I’ll get there though, just some strange supermarket finds.

Korea Traditional Sweet – These may look like the cocoon of a blood sucking insect, but instead they’re just un-sweet sweets. A thin, hard and chewy shell barely holds in a peanut filling. Texturally interesting, but lacking in discernible flavour. Despite that, I kind of like them and will probably eat the whole packet.

Matchsoon Gold, Korean plum wine – Have yet to taste this, but hello overuse of (pretty sparkle sparkle) gold leaf.

Nostalgia drink, Shikhye - A sweet rice drink with soggy rice (or puffed rice) grains floating in it. A tang of ginger apparently brings the whole mess together, I’ll let you guys know later though when I’ve gathered the courage to taste it.

Korean kimchi chocolate - Sounds revolting, right?. It took me a while to bring myself to select a flavour and dig in, I mean kim chi in chocolate? Please *shudder*. Well, it tastes like poor quality chocolate spiked with chilli. Actually, it was pretty great. Would I eat it again? Hell yes.

Coco Grape - Waiting for a train Alexander ducks around the corner “Wait a sec, it’s coco grape time!”. I’d been in Korea for all of 24 hours and had no idea what to expect so was happily surprised when he returned innocuous mini-can. It tastes like super sweet grape-flavoured hubba bubba and has coconut jelly chunks. Drinking this on a regular basis would probably induce diabeetus.

Pure chocolate yogurt sourdough – wait, what? I know those words but that doesn’t make sense. So I bought it and experienced my first over-packaging crisis (SoKo 2010). They turned out to be slightly sour, oily chocolate dipped triple-wrapped crackers, that didn’t taste of much past cardboard. Not delicious, false advertising.

Well, there is a turn around a Korean snack aisle, you’d better believe there is loads more to come.

Posted in Seoult and Pepper, South Korea | 3 Comments

Strange garlic

I’m sitting overlooking a valley. From my vantage point the progression of clouds can be easily observed; cotton wool whiteness meandering aimlessly across blue sky or heavy, dark and stormy and travelling north towards me. In a matter of minutes the sun will be obscured and a downpour that seems exceedingly ferocious to an outsider will be unleashed. Then, gradually, the rain eases, and the echoey dripping on the tin roof is quickly replaced with settling crinkling and crackling as the sun comes out again. Just in time for another cloudburst.

The drought is over in NSW. From the confines of the cities, where changes in the weather mostly just influence our clothes and weekend activities, this news was received happily and with thoughts of the farmers. But crops don’t suddenly succeed just because it rained. The timing and severity of the rainfall is crucial, as is the amount of sunlight available and how hot that sunlight is. For instance, this years low-chill stonefruit crop will be bland and boring due to lack of sunlight earlier in the year. The rain may be supporting a bumper mango season in far north Queensland, but it has had the opposite affect on northern rivers fruit of which there won’t be any this season. Local north coast garlic has also been affected.

Garlic is an essential ingredient in my kitchen and I put it in just about everything. I love how it changes its flavour and aspect when handled differently, from harsh raw shards to mellow roasted sweetness. We’ve all had heads of garlic or lonely abandoned cloves start to sprout in our kitchens, but turning that growth into a brand new bulb isn’t so easy.

On the north coast of NSW, dry garlic cloves are planted from February to April. There needs to be enough water around for the clove to sprout and grow, but if it’s too wet for too long the clove will just rot in the ground. In spring the plants send up edible flowers, best picked before they bloom. Cook them lightly in a little olive oil to soften the stems and eat whole, the flavour is all mildly garlic punctuated with flower-eating whimsy. From October to December is harvest time, when clear and sunny weather is essential to ensure the bulbs will dry out, to look like that garlic we all buy from the shop.

This year has been wet with little sunlight and in some crops each individual garlic clove has just continued growing, skipping the drying out and harvest processes and starting the next cycle all on it’s own. We were given some of these garlicky anomalies to try (first two pictures). With no papery skin to speak of these garlic shoots are easy to prepare, cut off the base and wash thoroughly. I sliced it finely and, sautéed in olive oil and butter with mushrooms, it seemed to add both the onion and garlic component in one. The white section is tempered garlic which gets even milder as it progresses through yellow to green. The upper coloured arms of this mutant looking vegetable are reminiscent of the tops of baby spring onions, though devoid of any sharpness. An unusual and tasty mistake.

You won’t find any such delicious manifestations of unusual weather on the shelves in Coles or Harris Farm Markets, but they may be available at a local farmers market, or even in your own backyard.

Posted in market, miscellaneous | 4 Comments

Banh Cuon

Banh cuon, a popular Hanoi breakfast dish, takes precision and skill to prepare. In the wrong hands these rice flour rolls turn out flabby and bland, but find a good street stall and you’re in for a light, balanced and filling early morning treat. I was anti-banh cuon for a long time until I was directed to a local, partly hidden, spot manned by a pancake maker with a light touch.

This banh cuon seller sets up early and does as brisk a trade as her steamer, a pot of water topped with a taut stretch of muslin, will allow.

Silk georgette thin rice pancakes are steamed and deftly handled in a production line that seems to be driven more by muscle memory than conscious thought. One pancake at a time is cooked and sheared off the tight fabric with an oiled wooden stick, then the next ladelful of rice flour batter is pushed around the fabric and covered with an old battered lid, just enough time for it to cook while the the first is filled. The cooked pancake is spread out on an oiled upturned plate, filled with a handful of cooked and minced wood ear mushroom and pork mixture then rolled up into a short fat roll. Just in time for the whole process to start over again.

A portion is eight rolls though often she pushes only four at a time in my direction, as though she can sense my early morning starvation. Each plate is topped with crisp fried shallots and eaten dipped in a warm, sharp fish sauce which I like best adorned with pieces of pork forcemeat. Her pancakes are beautifully thin and uniform providing textural contrast to the slight crunch of the filling and the squeakiness of the pork. Her banh cuon is balanced and harmonious in flavours, temperature and textures and is a pleasure to eat in the pre-humidity of a Hanoi summer morning.

Other customers come and go, ordering coffees from a neighbouring cafe, and variations on the banh cuon theme. Sometimes a pair of eggs are cracked onto the surface of a still-steaming rice pancake, and cooked until the whites just set. Excess pancake is folded over the eggs and they are carefully removed, skilfully keeping the yolk intact. Eaten with chillies, the dipping sauce and pork forcemeat, this is a decidedly Vietnamese, and healthy, take on eggs and bacon.

Office workers, old ladies and parents with kids in tow sit down at her little stall which is in a small hollow just off the street near a busy intersection. Sometimes it is barricaded from the traffic by a line of parked motorcycles. Other times people ride up, order and wait on their bikes for takeaway banh cuon, and during the breakfast peak she cooks to order so the wait can be long. Across the street is a cornucopia of Vietnamese breakfast foods, so it is in glowing praise of her wares that people, including breakfast-hungry me, wait.

Xuan Dieu, right opposite the intersection with To Ngoc Van, Tay Ho.
Mornings only.

Banh Cuon, 8 rolls, somewhere around 10,000vnd (~50c AU).

Posted in Vietnam, Vietnoms | 5 Comments

Foraging on the farm

Yesterday evening I went foraging, not in the forest or down suburban streets or even under fluorescent lights, but in a veggie patch 20 metres from my kitchen. The winter growing season is at the end here in northern New South Wales and consistent wet weather has promoted rampaging weeds and voracious pests, but there are still some things to be found.

After the main head of broccoli has been harvested the plant sends up baby shoots. They aren’t as pretty as the first harvest, but are younger, more tender and just as tasty.

Hey, look! Spring onions that have yet to reach gargantuan proportions.

The cauliflower is a bit past it, best left for snail fodder I think.

Weeds and grass have taken over, but some tell tale shrivelled and dead foliage indicate the presence of hidden potatoes. When the potato plant dies off it’s time to follow their roots and dig deep to find the tubers, and we struck gold.

Minutes later they were sizzling in roasting pan with some beetroot and a hunk of previously-foraged jap pumpkin (it grows almost wild here). A few hours later we ate the rest of our scavenged harvest for dinner, and it tasted incredibly good for the dregs of the farm.

Posted in miscellaneous | 3 Comments

Size matters

enormous
Enormous Australian herbs

After spending a year in Asia my return to the western world has me dumbfounded. The last few weeks have been spiked with reverse culture shock attacks, in the streets, watching TV and most harrowing of all in supermarkets.

I knew to expect the oversized cars, the giant people, and large portion sizes, but tree-like spring onions and soccer-ball mangoes are a surprise. Almost everything in the fruit shop is bigger than I’d remembered and not necessarily better.

marketHerbs
Young Vietnamese herbs.

In markets in Hanoi, where locals buy their fresh food daily, different varieties, not bred for size and shelf life, are on offer. Bunches of petite herbs and slender spring onions have a completely different flavour than than the hulking beasts available here. The banana seller will have four or five different kinds at varying levels of ripeness. The smallest sugar bananas were my favourite, sweet and floral as opposed to the beasts readily available here which just provide a banana texture with little discernible flavour.

bananas
Australian bananas

Elephantiasis affected vegetables are just the obvious visual representation of a much deeper problem with agriculture, business and they way that Australian eat. How did Australian greengrocers get to this place of blandness and conformity? Many reasons, but big business greed and the lack of a strong consolidated food culture are up there. I just hope that we can find our way out of this situation where most of us buy oversized and sub-standard but pretty produce, and soon.

Size definitely does matter. But when it comes to fruit and vegetables, bigger is rarely better.

Posted in miscellaneous | 8 Comments
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