This is probably one of the most unappetising looking food on my blog, unless you happen to be a kimchi addict.
Fact #1: My sister is a kimchi addict.
Fact #2: My sister used to bust half her pay cheque buying very expensive kimchi for her daily-dose.
Fact #3: I exaggerated a very little on Fact #2.
Confession #1: I’m not a fan of kimchi and its texture. Kimchi jigae, yes. Kimchi on its own, no. At least not yet.
Confession #2: I am pretty darned proud of the fact that I can make a delicious batch of something that I don’t eat.
It was never part of my repertoire to make something that I don’t eat [yet]. I mean, how pretentious is that? And how do you even convince people to eat your food if you can’t even convince yourself [yet]?
Apparently, it is possible with kimchi. My mum and sis love my kimchi, and so do Lil & Gab, and my doctor, and umm, I can’t remember who else I gave them to, but I have yet to receive a poor review. This marks my Nth batch, by the way.
Mum was in the mood for some kimchi last night. She specifically wanted the radish cubed and volunteered to cut up the vegetables. She didn’t have the recipe, and so she engaged my help to salt the cabbage and prepare the seasoning. We had some minor setbacks, though.
Me: Err…No spring onions ah?
Mum: Oh ya…never buy.
Me: Orh…And leek?
Mum: …Oh ya..I also forgot about it!
Me: Tsk tsk, next time you want to make kimchi, remember to check with the kimchi expert! HAHAHA.
Didn’t matter though. Kimchi would still happen even if you omit 1-2 ingredients, although I imagine the leek and spring onions would up the flavour quotient by a notch or two.
The process involved salting the cabbage to remove the bulk of its water content. There is an optional process of preparing a water-roux for the seasoning.
And then, it also involved the addition of fish sauce–a liquid that smells like an extract of something that was, umm, left dead for a very long time. I am intrigued by how everything could actually blend and develop into something edible, to be honest.
It is now fermenting away in my living room and would be ready in 2 days, but I’m guessing my addicts at home would have tasted them already, heh.
Shall we get a little philosophical here now?
It looks like a recipe for disaster.
It doesn’t look pleasant.
You might forget some things along the way.
It smells like an explosion waiting to happen.
Have faith, and patience.
Everything would eventually be okay.
Tried and tested, with love, by Jess.