For the Love of Kimchi!

All the stars are aligned. I have heard so much about Kimchi, a Korean dish of spicy fermented cabbage, and I can't wait to learn more! According to lifeinkorea.com, kimchi is served at almost every meal in Korea. This article from NY Times profiles a mobile taco stand that features a tofu-chili taco with kimchi. This weekend I am hoping to try out a kimchi recipe I found in the Top Chef Cookbook. Typically, as I learned from Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, kimchi typically is fermented with raw oysters in large urns buried in the ground for a three weeks, this recipe only takes three days! Here is the recipe for those who are just as curious as me!

1 head napa cabbage

1 medium daikon radish

1/2 cup salt

3 scallions, thinly sliced

3 garlic cloves, minced

4 tablespoons fresh ginger

1 tablespoon red pepper flakes or kimchi spice mix

2 teaspoons soy sauce

1. Separate the cabbage into leaves. Peel the daikon and cut into 1/4-inch thick slices. In a large bowl, layer the cabbage and daikon slices, sprinkling salt in between each layer, using about 1/2-cup salt total. Add water to cover 1 inch and place a heavy plate on top of the leaves. Set aside overnight.

2. The next day, remove the plate and drain the vegetables. Rinse well under running water and drain. Cut the cabbage into 1/4-inch thick slices. Transfer vegetables to a large bowl. Add the scallions, garlic, ginger, pepper flakes, soy sauce, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1-cup water. Mix gently.

3. Transfer the vegetable mixture and liquid to a large crock. Cover tightly and refrigerate for 3 days, stirring once a day.

The photo comes from lifeinkorea.com

The NY Times article is from nytimes.com

Schedule Your Triple Bypass -- Here Comes The Bacon!

Woah.

Despite the health concerns, bacon has reclaimed its spot as a popular ingredient in any restaurant chef's kitchen. It can be said that bacon makes any dish more delectable; however, could this be taking it too far?

This dish, lovingly coined The Bacon Explosion, has stopped bacon lovers in their tracks to cock their heads and say, "Huh, imagine that." Two heaping pounds of bacon basket woven around two pounds of ground sausage make up "The BBQ Sausage Recipe of all Recipes." The recipe has been linked to more than 16,000 various sites since its premier on a Kansas City BBQ competition site. 

Here is the recipe for those who are daring enough to try.

From NY Times

Adapted from Jason Day and Aaron Chronister

Cooking time: 3 hours

2 pounds thick cut sliced bacon

1 1/2 pounds Italian sausage with casings removed

3 tablespoons barbecue rub

3/4 cup barbecue sauce

1. Use 10 slices of bacon to weave a square lattice by placing 5 slices side-by-side on a large sheet of aluminum foil. Use the remaining 5 to weave into the others.

2. Preheat the oven to 225 degrees or you could use an outdoor smoker. 

3. Place the remaining bacon in a frying pan and cook until crisp. 

4. As it is cooking, sprinkle the weaved bacon with barbecue rub. Evenly spread the sausage over the weave entirely to the outer edges.

5. Cut the fried bacon into bite sized pieces and then spread over the sausage. Drizzle with 1/2 cup of barbecue sauce and then sprinkle with another tablespoon of the barbecue rub.

6. Carefully lift the edge of the sausage, leaving the bacon flat, and begin to roll the sausage over itself away from you. Press the sausage roll to to remove any air pockets and push together seams at the end.

7. Roll the sausage back toward you, this time with the bacon weave, until it is completely wrapped. Place roll seam down. Sprinkle the roll with the remaining barbecue rub.

8. Place the roll on a baking sheet and into the oven or smoker. Cook until the internal temperature is 165 degrees, about 1 hour per inch of thickness. When done, glaze the roll with more barbecue sauce. Serve by slicing into 1/4 inch to 1/2 inch.

So, would you?

 

Pictures by Don Ipock for the New York Times

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/28/dining/281brex.html?ref=dining

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/28/dining/28bacon.html?em

"No Substitutions. No Ketchup." -- Black Rabbit Bistro

The clarification that appears at the bottom of the menu sets the tone of this Eugene restaurant gem. "No Substitutions. No Ketchup." Like you could ever need Ketchup on any of the delectable dishes offered at this affordable high-brow bistro. 

The Black Rabbit Bistro, not to be confused as The Rabbit Bistro, is a favorite among locals they wish they could keep to themselves. Only having been open for a few months, the bistro is often full early in the evening on the weekends. I was very relieved to get one of the last tables when I arrived at 6 p.m. on a Saturday. 

Do not let the location deceive you. It is located in a high end shopping center on upper Willamette, only a few doors down from Whole Foods Market. Once you walk in the door, the ambiance created helps you to forget where you are -- Low light with votive candles.

 

The menu offers many exotic proteins from mussels to frog legs and veal to rabbit. Per the season, many of their dishes feature truffles, a treat most households are not familiar with but is like velvet on your palate. The attention to detail is very impressive, even sprinkling sea salt over the table butter to accompany the fresh French bread.

The highlight of my trip to the restaurant was the french onion soup. I fancy myself a connoisseur of french onion soup, finding myself drawn to sample it if it is on the menu. Even when I do not mean to order it, "French onion soup, please," falls out of my mouth as if my appetite speaks for me. The french onion soup at The Black Rabbit Bistro is rich, unique, and absolutely delicious. The browned chicken stock gives the soup its rich flavor, but only the start of what makes the soup unique. I have encountered many variations of how to present the cheese and the crouton on the soup: On top, on bottom, big crouton, little cheese and vice versa. At the bistro, the soup is served in a larger bowl with a small french baguette crouton and the perfect amount of cheese. How do I explain what I mean by perfect? The cheese is in no way overwhelming, where no matter how you spoon the soup, every bite is saturated with cheese. However, cheese is not an afterthought in this soup. It is very much a happy medium done thoughtfully. Black Rabbit Bistro's french onion soup dominates the top of my list of favorite soups. 

A Very Viennese Christmas

You can smell it before you can see it. 

Bratwurst cooking on the grill, hazelnuts, literally, roasting on an open fire, gluhwein, a hot spiced wine, permeating the air around you. Before you arrive at the annual Christmas Markets in Vienna, Austria, you already feel as if you are in a Christmas song. 

Upon arriving at the world famous market, you first spot the breathtaking Parliament building in the background. It has a tall clock tower in the center and four steeples. The windows are covered with large blue boards and number one through 24, creating an advent calendar to countdown the days until Christmas. The Christmas stands of stained wooden houses form a small village in front of the building. Each stand has an evergreen roof lined with pine awnings and bright clear Christmas lights.

The air is so chilly on this November day that hat, gloves, and a warm mug filled with some alcoholic beverage are required. Hot chocolate with Bailey's, gluhwein, or punsch, a warm version of an Italian spritz with Campari or Aperol, are among the simplest choices of the day at the market. The more difficult choices are presented at the market stands. Overwhelming would be the best word to describe the feeling from the immense variety of Christmas products available for purchase. Ornaments, decorations, Christmas lights, Christmas food, marionettes, Santa figurines, snowman figurines, angel figurines, postcards, stuffed animals, jewelery, dried fruit and spice awnings, literally everything you could imagine dealing with Christmas is available at this market. 

Having grown up celebrating Christmas with a German influence, many of the decorations were familiar to me, making me feel nostalgic for the comforts of home. I searched high and low for a Santa figurine that portrayed the traditional German Santa attire, a long red jacket, skinnier build, and a long grey beard. Of the close to 100 storefronts, I found my Santa in only one. I was overjoyed. Not only did this storefront have my Santa, they had the cutest snowman dressed in a red and white stripped shirt, a top hat and big black boots. He carries a red bag overflowing with toys and a lantern his way. Next, off to my next goal: German trinkets. 

In the United States, the cost of an authentic German nutcracker has risen dramatically, as well as the rarity that they are found in American Christmas stores. Mostly, nutcrackers made in China or Japan are complete knockoffs the more valuable, original German versions. Therefore, coming across a world full of authentic German nutcrackers for an extraordinarily low price of 40 Euro was like finding heaven on earth. In addition to the nutcrackers, there were little wooden traveling smokers available, and I snatched up the last two at the storefront. The smokers are delicate little wooden figurines that come apart in the middle to burn incense in them. The smoke then comes out of their mouths to make them look as if they are smoking out of the metal pipes they hold. One of the smokers I bough holds a birdcage in his fragile hands, while the other is walking his wood dog. 

Walking around the market, you are constantly preceded by the sight of your breath, reminding you of the frigid temperature outside. Throughout the day, the temperature hovered at about 34 degrees. I decided it was best to sample a different kind of hot drink available at the market, so I purchased a Bailey's Irish Cream hot chocolate to help warm me up. As I clenched the mug in my hands, I realized how special of an experience I was currently wrapped up in and wondered when I would be able to experience something so memorable again. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to leave the Christmas markets the way I came: Smelling the scents of the market that make it so festive and special.

Villa Sandi Winery

Villa Sandi Winery lies nestled in the valleys of the Veneto region of Italy best know for its prosecco sparkling wine. The villa and winery on the property date back to the 17^th-century and seeps history from every corner of the property. As you walk through the cold, dark cellars, you start your time travel through history in the 17^th-century. The first cellar was built underground for the original owners and winemakers of the winery, the Sandi’s. The cellars are built with old stone brick cracked with age. The temperature is kept consistently between 13 and 14 degrees Celsius making a jacket required and a scarf advised. The dingy aroma emanated from the mold in the walls and the bottles. Dark green wine bottles lined the walls of the cellars, sometimes seeming to extend as far as you can see. The next cellar dates back to World War I and connects to the historic, palatial villa. During the war, these cellars were used as tunnels for soldiers in the Italian army. Today, they are homes to thousands of bottles of prosecco laying in rest to age for three, five, or seven years until they proceed to the distilling process.

The process of making prosecco is unlike any that I have ever seen. I was surprised to see the prosecco does not age in French oak barrels or stainless steel vats, but in their own bottles. After up to seven years of aging untouched, they are carefully moved to steel cages where a machine slowly turns them upside down, shaking them slightly in the process. The task takes many weeks and used to be done by hand, requiring workers to turn the bottles every 30 minutes everyday for a couple weeks. Once the bottles are turned completely upside down, all the sediment is left in the neck of the bottle. From there, the bottles are putting into a specialized freezer upside down. The freezer turns the liquid in the neck to ice, capturing all the left over sediment in the prosecco. Once the sediment is frozen, the bottle can be turned upright and have the cap released. The bottle naturally expels the frozen impurities and is topped of with more of the same prosecco. From here, the bottles can be thoroughly topped, cleaned and labeled for sale.

The prosecco made by Villa Sandi is known worldwide for its excellence and floral tones. The sparkling and still wines are renowned and the Moretti Polegato family, the current winemakers, have received hundreds of awards and recognition for their wines and prosecco. Learning more about the prosecco-making process has been very valuable to me as someone interested in wine and winemaking, and I am thankful to have learned more from one of the best in Italy.

Picture: http://www.cellartours.com/italy/italian-wineries/villa-sandi-winery.html

Munchen Style

Sitting amongst the Germans in the Haufbrau Keller, the English Garden's beer garden, I was thinking to myself, "I never want to leave this place." Munich was a dream, and my comfort there can only be described as having my roots take hold in the place that called to my soul. Yes, it really was that deep. Beer, brats, and the fall; what more could I need in life?

My journey to this beautiful place was not as enjoyable. In fact, it was a nightmare. Eight long hours sitting upright on a train filled to the brim, so much so, it was bursting its seams. My car was full with six people to a room, none of whom I knew. Next to me sat an older gentleman in his early 50s. Country of origin unknown, but what was evident to the other five of us in the room was he had not bathed in two weeks -- just my luck. The following hours drug on like waiting for molasses to pour, all the while sitting completely upright with no leg room. Obviously, there was no sleep for me on this overnight train to Munich. I was ecstatic when it was finally over.

And was it all worth it? Was it worth going through that torture to be sitting in the crisp, fresh, autumn air in Munich, Germany, eating bratwurst, blaukraut, and pretzels larger than my head, drinking beer in a glass so heavy I need two hands to hold it? The answer is simple: Yes. And I cannot wait to go back. I have officially left my heart in Munich.

Italian Cafeteria Experience

ONE FOR SCHOOL:

On the ground floor of the PIO building in the Instituti Filipini, I am waiting patiently in line for dinner, not completely sure if I am hungry at all. The unrecognizable smells of cooked vegetables and tomato sauce permeate the air, finding its way to my nostrils, and putting me off from any desire to eat what the cooks serve to me.

The line starts to inch forward, like the movement of a centipede, and I give a big sigh: Another meal in an Italian school cafeteria.

Reluctantly, I grab a tray and a thin, gray paper place mat. I select my glass cup for water, and my silverware. Tonight, I decide to skip the bread rolls because finding a soft one is like searching for Waldo. I set my tray on the stainless steel shelf and turn to face the jolly old man who waits to serve me flavorless pasta. He is dressed in a gray short-sleeved shirt, white apron, and a white cap tied over his grey, balding hair.

Kindly, I ask for “Pasta con pomodoro,”

“Buonissimo,” he replies laughing as he darts the bowl away from my hands as I try to claim it. He reminds me of a caring and loving grandfather playing airplane with a grandchild. It works. He gets a smile out of me, and my mood is lifted for the next phase of the cafeteria line: The meat and vegetables section.

I have always looked at this section of the line as the most questionable. The meat is always unusual colors, making it hard to guess what kind it is.

“Could I please have the turkey?”

“Turkey? No Turkey, only beef.”

“I will have the hot dogs, then. Thank you!”

And that is how I ended up eating hot dogs and fries.

I sat down and further examined the food that I ended up with, only half wanting. First, there is farfalle pasta, which looks like little bow ties, with tomato sauce placed absent-mindedly on top. My hot dogs are pale as flesh that has not seen sun in 20 years, leading me to believe they are most likely not all natural meat. The only part of my meal I can count on to taste enjoyable are my steakhouse style fries, which I proceed to cover with salt.

I pick up my fork and take a chunk off of the hot dog. I decide it is best not to examine the piece before putting it in my mouth. Adding a dab of dark yellow mustard, I plop the hot dog in my mouth and chew. The taste is there, reminding me of summer barbecues eating Ball Park Franks; however, the consistency is a total miss. It is soft and mushy on the inside, as if it was over cooked. What did I expect? Hot dogs are an American pastime, so I should not have had high expectations. I finish the hot dogs anyway. Moving on, I try the pasta and tomato sauce. The sauce is thick, assuring it is freshly made. The pasta is served al dente; however, the noodles are oily, giving the whole dish a liquid consistency. The sauce is somewhat low on flavor, so, once again, I dump more salt on top, chuckling to myself about the sharp increase in iodine to my daily diet.

At this point in my meal, I am in a food coma. I no longer care about what I am eating; I am just eating it like a drone. My meal is over before I even realized it started, further clarifying how unremarkable it truly was. I slowly grab my tray and maneuver my way to the door, and slide my tray in the stainless steel cart. As I walk away toward my dormitory, I think, “Just another meal in an Italian school cafeteria.”