Kimchi

Sometimes, a post writes itself. As I was piling the big heap of pickled cabbage into my largest mason jar, I thought of all the times I'd pigged out on Kimchi in the past, all those times I'd been absolutely sure there was no way to make this stuff at home. I remembered the moment I'd received David Chang's Momofuku cookbook, how excited I was to discover that there was a recipe for kimchi -- a very easy, very doable recipe, involving no more than ten minutes of active prep time. I recalled how few recipes on this site are inspired by East Asia, how frustrated that's made me over the years, considering how prominently East Asian flavors figure into my home cooking and, to an even greater extent, my eating out. And I knew that as soon as work calmed down and Rosh Hashana had passed, I'd be telling you about this one-bowl dish that's quickly become a staple in my kitchen.

Like lacto-fermented pickles, the things that make kimchi so delicious are (mostly) environmental. Exposure to air and time turn the mixture of cabbage, chili, fish sauce, salt, and sugar into something much more intriguing than the individual components might suggest. Some of the kimchi I've had at restaurants has been overly pungent or funky, too sharply salty or sour, without proper balance. My favorite kimchi in the DC metro area, from the Annandale restaurant Ye Chon, is very good, but it sometimes lacks that hint of sweetness that balances the sour, salty, and spicy flavors and keeps your chopsticks coming back for more. Chang's kimchi gets that balance just right.

The most time-intensive part of this recipe is the shopping. If you don't already have fish sauce, you'll need to buy some. Don't be seduced by the tiny bottles they sell at Whole Foods; to make this properly, you'll need the stuff that comes in the big bottle (a bottle usually has between 3-6 cups worth). Yes, it's another thing to store in the fridge, and I get that that's a turn-off. And yes, I'm aware that fish sauce can smell like dirty socks. Have you already clicked away? No? I promise that kimchi reins in the funk of the fish sauce, and that the result will smell nothing like the locker room. My favorite fish sauce brands are Squid and Three Crabs, but anything you find at Hmart or an Asian grocer will be totally fine.

Another key ingredient is Korean chili powder, also called Kochukaru. I went to Hmart (the Asian grocery) in search of something by that name, and saw only pounds and pounds of "chili powder." Turns out, all the chili powder in the Korean aisle at Hmart is kochukaru. If you ask, the ladies behind the register will tell you it's what they use to make kimchi. You want the coarsely ground stuff. The last special ingredient is jarred salted shrimp, which I didn't use (I keep a kosher home, which means no shellfish). My kimchi was still delicious.

Other than that, we're talking basics. Cabbage, salt, sugar. Garlic and ginger. Soy sauce. Scallions and carrots round out the vegetables in this kimchi, and I've been known to dig to the bottom of the jar for some of those irresistible pickled scallion bits.

I've said before that my goal with this blog is convincing myself, along with you, that good food really isn't so hard to make. Yes, sometimes it requires ingredients that aren't exactly staples. Sometimes we end up needing to teach ourselves new tricks. But with one trip to the somewhat-obscure grocery store and a couple minutes of advance reading, something like kimchi -- which once seemed impossible to make at home -- can be in a mason jar, on your tabletop, in your mouth in practically no time. When good food is this simple, fear of cooking seems like a waste, doesn't it?

Kimchi Adapted from David Chang's Momofuku

1 small to medium head Napa cabbage, discolored or loose outer leaves discarded 2 tablespoons kosher or coarse sea salt (don't use table salt -- it's too harsh) 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar 20 garlic cloves, minced 20 slices peeled fresh ginger, minced 1/2 cup kochukaru (Korean chile powder) 1/4 cup fish sauce 1/4 cup usukuchi (light soy sauce) 2 teaspoons jarred salted shrimp -- I didn't use this, and my kimchi came out great 1/2 cup 1-inch pieces scallions (greens and whites) 1/2 cup julienned carrots

Cut the cabbage lengthwise in half, then cut the halves crosswise into 1 inch wide pieces. Toss the cabbage with the salt and 2 tablespoons of the sugar in a bowl. Let sit for several hours or overnight in the refrigerator.

Combine the garlic, ginger, kochukaru, fish sauce, soy sauce, shrimp if using, and remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a large bowl. If it is very thick, add water 1/3 cup at a time until the brine is just thicker than a creamy salad dressing but no longer a sludge. Stir in the scallions and carrots.

Drain the cabbage and add it to the brine. Cover and refrigerate. After 24 hours, the kimchi will taste great. Don't eat it all right then and there, though -- it'll taste even better after a week of sitting, and at its prime 2 weeks out. It will still be good for another couple weeks after that, though it will grow stronger and funkier.

Summer Squash Couscous with Sultanas, Pistachios, and Mint

My newest hero? The Internet Cooking Princess. Have you seen her blog? I hope you'll clicking over there and check it out. The retro look is lovely, the recipes are top-notch, and her voice is funny and fresh. Also: she made up this couscous salad recipe, and it has become my food of summer.

I took a first look at this recipe and thought, yep -- this is totally something I would make. Hook, line and sinker, I was sold. But examining the recipe more closely, I noticed all sorts of little touches that -- how do you say? -- I'd never have thought to do.

Example: it all starts with a brunoise, a summer squash chopped into pieces so tiny, so evenly tiny, you'll be hooked on their cuteness. Also, she has you cook some shallot, but just for a scant minute or two. I always brown shallots, or caramelize them, or hell, use them raw. I never just cook them for a hot minute. But it works; the shallot softens slightly, but retains its distinctive bite and stands up to the other ingredients in the salad.

And then there's that whole cooked-pistachios thing. I remember when Top Chef-Stephanie made a lamb dish with braised pistachios a few seasons back, and Tim Allen raved that he wished more people would serve him braised pistachios. I was as puzzled then as I was when I saw that ICP has you cook the pistachios. I always toast them until golden, adding them to a dish just before serving so they stay crunchy. Admittedly, I did toast them before following ICP's instructions, because I know I like that intensified pistachio flavor, but heating them through with the moist zucchini and raisins softens them both texturally and flavor-wise to nice effect.

Lastly, and most memorably, Internet Cooking Princess understands the value of subtlety. She has you smash a couple of garlic cloves and let them infuse the dressing while you do everything else. The salad is balanced: sweet and savory, tangy and nutty, rich and fresh. It's just right; it's addictive. And considering I've made it once with regular couscous, once with Israeli pearl couscous, and hell, once with leftover spaghetti, I think I'm an expert on the subject.

Summer Squash Couscous with Sultanas, Pistachios, and Mint From the Internet Cooking Princess, via Food52 (but of course!)

1 tablespoon lemon zest Juice of one lemon 1/2 teaspoon honey Olive oil 3 garlic cloves, crushed 1 1/4 cup vegetable stock 1 cup couscous 1/2 cup diced yellow squash 1/2 cup diced zucchini 1 medium shallot, finely chopped 1/2 cup sultanas/golden raisins (I used a mix) 1/4 cup chopped pistachios Kosher salt 2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint Freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 350. Spread pistachios on rimmed baking sheet in a single layer. Toast about 10 minutes, until pistachios have turned golden. Set aside.

In a small bowl, whisk the lemon zest, lemon juice, honey, and 1/4 cup olive oil. Add garlic cloves and let them steep for about 30 minutes.

Next, bring stock to a boil in a medium saucepan. Stir in couscous, cover, and turn off heat; allow couscous to sit for 5 minutes, or until it absorbs all the liquid. Fluff the couscous with a fork so the grains don't start clumping together, pour into a large mixing bowl, and set aside.

In a skillet over medium high heat, add 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Add the chopped squash and zucchini, shallot, sultanas, pistachios and a pinch or two of salt. Only cook for about a minute or two -- you still want the squash and zucchini to be al dente. This just ensures they aren't too al dente, and all the flavors can marry before they hit the couscous. Set aside until everything reaches room temperature. (Admittedly, I wasn't so strict about this part, and added everything while it was warm. Such is the way with weekday lunch...)

Once the vegetables have reached room temperature, add them to the couscous and toss to combine. Remove and discard cloves of garlic from the dressing, and toss it with the couscous (add the dressing gradually, as you may not need it all; I used about half). Fold in the mint, season with additional salt and pepper if necessary and serve at room temperature.

Taco Night Coleslaw

Taco night is a perennial favorite. It's an easy meal to prepare, most components can be prepared well in advance, and if you make it for a dinner party, you'll be feasting on leftovers for days. When I say "taco night," of course, I'm referring to that generic category of weeknight suppers, including but not limited to tacos, fajitas, burritos, and anything else involving tortillas, fillings, and toppings of your choice.

In case you're at a loss for where to start, here's my go-to iteration of Tex-Mex dinner: I serve warm flour tortillas, refried beans, sauteed peppers and onions, cabbage slaw with lime and chile, and salsa, guacamole, and queso fresco to top it all off. It's a regular feast.

And please, don't let me cramp your style: the possibilities aren't limited to beans and whatnot. If you're not a fan of the legumes, pan-fry some chicken, fish, or beef slices over high heat until charred, squeeze a lime juice and sprinkle some salt and pepper, and you've got yourself a taco or fajita filling.

The peppers and onions are dead simple. Halve a red onion, trim the ends, and slice each half into three. Take a few bell peppers (I like red) and poblano peppers (the big dark-green ones -- they're pretty mild, with just a whisper of spice) and slice them into long strips. Add pepper and onion slices to a hot pan with a bit of olive oil and some salt, much like you did with the protein. Stir at regular intervals so that lots of different pieces get charred. When you see enough brown spots, turn off heat, and transfer hot vegetables to serving bowl. They'll steam and soften while sitting there, so by the time you're ready to serve, they're ready, too.

Another great dish is simple charred corn. If you have fresh ears available (and there's no time like July for fresh, sweet corn), use them. If not, frozen kernels work great here, too. Follow the rules above: into a hot pan with just a spoonful of oil, and maybe some epazote (if you have it) or cilantro (works too). Toss once in a while, let the kernels char, you get the drill. Hit with some salt and pepper, maybe a squeeze of lime, done.

The crown jewel at dinners like these is the cabbage slaw. (When isn't it?) This one is about as basic as they come: red and green (or Napa) cabbage, lime dressing. Fin. The tangy crunch of this simple concoction, provides the perfect contrast to tacos and fajitas. It's the must-have dish in the spread, if you ask me. Then again, I'm hard-pressed to pick a favorite element. Every dish in this meal is pretty darn tasty.

Taco Night Coleslaw

1 small head red cabbage 1 small head green or Napa cabbage (I prefer Napa, as it's slightly softer but just as crunchy) juice and zest of 2 limes 1/2 teaspoon chile flakes, preferably something smoked like chipotle or ancho, but any will do 1/3 cup olive oil 1/2 teaspoon salt black pepper to taste

Shred cabbage using sharp knife or mandoline; you're going for as thin slices as possible. Combine remaining ingredients in a large bowl and stir to combine. Add cabbage, and toss to coat. Set aside to macerate for at least 15 minutes before serving. If you leave it for more than an hour or so, put it in the fridge. You'll note that as time passes, the red cabbage will turn the dressing (and with it, the rest of the slaw) a bright pink shade. All the prettier, if you ask me.

Cucumber-Avocado Soup

No food-friendly home is without its strange culinary rituals, and mine is no exception. Just ask a recent house guest, who during her 3-day stay caught me in the kitchen before 7 am in wet hair and a bathrobe on two separate occasions, cooking not eggs and toast as the normal people do, but strawberry-chili jam and walnut chocolate chip cookies. I like making elaborate things early in the morning; I'm a total weirdo.

Take another odd ritual in chez NDP: when summer rolls around, I start awkwardly hoarding empty yogurt tubs, filling them as quickly as possible with all sorts of cold summer soups: white gazpacho and chilled corn soup and more. Why I can't use tupperware like the rest of earthlings, I don't know. All I know is that cold soup ladled from recycled yogurt tubs on a hot and humid summer day makes me grin big.

Here, then, is my first chilled soup of the summer, one that has already made its (very temporary) home in a yogurt tub. It's inspired by a soup my friend Beth made last weekend, which was creamy and smooth, yet seemed almost whipped, it was so light and airy. The key, of course, is to make it in a blender. Its ingredients are few -- cucumbers and avocado, yogurt and jalapeno, perhaps some chives -- but bowls of the stuff would be lovely garnished with any number of things. I've done yogurt and more chopped chives, and I'm particularly excited about topping my next bowl with some quartered cherry tomatoes.

Chilled soup provides such easy reprieve from the heat, I'll be making it regularly through August. Stay tuned for more recipes, and as always, feel free to share your own in the comments!

Cucumber Avocado Soup serves 4-6

2 avocados, preferably Hass, halved and roughly chopped 1 English (seedless) long cucumber, halved lengthwise and sliced coarsely 1 jalapeno pepper, chopped (with seeds), more to taste 1 cup yogurt (I used greek, but any will do) salt and pepper to taste 5-6 fresh chives, chopped

Combine all ingredients in a blender, starting with just half of the jalapeno and reserving 2-3 sprigs chives and 1/4 cup yogurt for garnish. Add 1/8 cup water to get the blending started, then blend on medium until completely smooth. Taste, and add salt, pepper, and more jalapeno to taste.

Refrigerate at least 1 hour.

To serve, fill bowls and garnish with yogurt, chives, chopped cherry tomatoes, or anything else that suits your fancy.