Samphire (also okra, fern and bamboo shoots) kimchi

he only reason why Koreans do not make kimchi out of  samphire is because samphire only grows in North-Western Europe. Should it favour East Asia too, I have no doubt it would have long been part of the gorgeous sanchae or sansai, wild vegetables commonly used to make pickles in Korea and Japan.

Last month I decided to correct this Mother Nature's oversight and made kimchi out of Norfolk samphire. Fresh, crunchy and naturally briny, it is perfectly complemented by ginger and pepper. Just follow your regular kimchi recipe, but use samphire instead of cabbage or daikon. Depending on how much you make, the amount of  ingredients will vary, so I will rather give proportions than exact quantities. You should make enough kimchi base paste to smother the main ingredient comfortably.

 Kimchi base ingredients:

1. equal quantities of minced garlic, fish sauce and minced onion.  
2. double quantities of rice porridge and gochugaru (hot pepper flakes, can be substituted with gochujang)
3. quarter quantity of minced ginger. 

Procedure:

1. Rinse samphire well and remove the woody parts. Cut into equal pieces.
2. Mix the kimchi base ingredients. Fold the samphire into the mixture.
3. Cover with a lid and leave to ferment at a room temperature for 24 hours. When bubbles start showing, the process has kicked off. Move to a cold place, ideally a few degrees above zero degree centigrade. A few days is normally enough to complete fermentation: keep checking until you are satisfied with the taste.

P.S. I also use bamboo shoots, okra, string beans, turnip, daikon (mooli) and fiddlehead fern (warabi or gosari) for my kimchi preserves. Bean sprouts are rather delicate in texture so they can be simply mixed with the excess of juice from already made kimchi and left overnight in the fridge. Kimchi out of bean sprouts and samphire do not hold long, so finish yours within a week or so.

Yukhoe - Korean steak tartare (육회)

ho would think that eating chopped raw beef mixed with raw egg yolk on a bed of sliced pears would make for a great culinary experience? Well it did! It comes flavoured in that characteristically subtle Korean way, just underlining the natural goodness of the ingredients. I figured that it must be just sesame oil with a wee sprinkle of toasted white sesame. So, that's pretty much the recipe! Mas-issge deu seyo, enjoy your food!

Sanchae Korean mountain vegetables 산채 - 山菜

Yeepie-ho, my quest is over. I have managed to find sanchae (산채), Korean mountain vegetables, in London. No Korean restaurant here yet serves my all-time favourite sanchae-bibimbap (산채비빔밥 ), so I may be one the first ones to cook it in the Big Smoke.

Moo guk: Korean radish soup recipe (무우국)

White and juicy daikon radish gently boiled into a still crunchy softness - that is the highlight of moo-guk (무우국) the Korean radish soup. Don't even get started on phallic connotations: in soup, daikon ends up chopped to bite-size chunks!

1. Cut 50 g of lean beef or chicken into thin stripes.
2. Marinate them in a 1 tsp of sesame oil and some freshly ground black pepper.
   
3. Peel half a daikon (aka, mooli or Chinese white radish) and cut into bite-size chunks.
4. Stir-fry the beef in a well heated pot, then add the daikon and stri-fry a couple more minutes.
5. Add 3 cups of water - and, if you so wish, a handful of pre-washed bean sprouts and /or half a chopped leek - and bring to a boil.
6. Reduce the fire and allow to simmer for 5-6 minutes.
7. Serve with a wee drizzle of sesame oil and a sprinkle of freshly ground black pepper.

Serve as a starter or an accompaniment to a Korean main dish such as jaeyuk bokkeum (spicy pork stew).

Jeyuk bokkeum: improved recipe

While my jaeyuk bokkeum (재육볶음) recipe is apparently a big hit at Barclay Russia's Moscow HQ, I have kept working on it and developed an improved version of this classic Korean dish, which I call "dry" jeyuk bokkeum.

The difference with the "wet" jeyuk bokkeum is that here the meat and veg get grilled and eaten with a gochujang dip instead of getting stewed with gochujang, in which process both kind of lose their most interesting flavours.

To avoid that, I divided the process in two parts: grilling and making the dip.

Grilling:

1. For the marinade, mix 2 tablespoonfuls of mirin, one tablespoonful of soya sauce, one tbsp rice wine, wee glug of sesame oil, white and black sesame seeds, half a teaspoonful each, a few drops of liquid smoke.
   
2. Marinate 200g thin stripes of best beef for about 20 minutes. Better get the stripes from a good butcher or a very good Asian supermarket.
   
3. Cut 8 pre-soaked (better overnight) shiitake mushrooms into thin stripes.
4. Do the same with carrots.
5. Grill the meat and veg on a ribbed skillet or whatever grilling equipment you have.
   

Now for the dip. I am very proud of it. I invented it myself, it is a deeper, richer and more intense version of the classic liquid gochujang they carry in Korean restaurants. For the dip you will need to mix in a bowl:

• a few generous spoonfuls of gochujang;
  
• a few cloves of garlic, crushed;
• 2 inches of fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated;
• a tablespoonful of finely toasted white sesame seeds (easy on this one as it tastes bitter in big doses);
• a tee-wee glug of fish sauce;
• when necessary, some water to achieve the desired consistency.

Serve the meat and veg on separate plates, the dip on the side, a big bowl of freshly steamed rice (here's how to cook rice to perfection) and a platter of Little Gem lettuce leaves or, alternatively, cut Cos (Romaine) lettuce to appropriate size. Wrap a few slices of meat and veg in in a leaf, dunk into the dip and chase with a mouthful of rice. The ultimate winter heart-warmer.

Miyeok guk: Korean seaweed soup recipe (미역국)

iyeok guk (미역국), Korean seaweed soup, is packed with essential nutrients that are hardly ever present in your daily 5. That is why in Korea it is given to pregnant women and students about to sit for an exam.

Like all Korean recipes it is straightforward, simple and yields amazing results. The beef stock lends the seaweed a depth of flavour, while the aromas of garlic and sesame oil make the melody of this soup a fully harmonised one.

1. Soak 2 tbsp of dried seaweed (miyeok in Korean or wakame in Japanese) in plenty of cold water. I also use kombu/dasima but that is optional
   
2. In the meantime cut 50 g lean beef into thin strips and marinade them in 1 tbsp of sesame oil and a modicum of freshly ground black pepper.
   
3. Heat a wok and quickly stir-fry the beef.
   
4. When the beef is nicely browned, reduce the fire and add the seaweed. Make sure to wring it out as dry as possible. Stir-fry very briefly.
   
5. Add 3 cups of water and bring to a simmer.
6. Add 3-5 cloves of garlic, sliced, and soya sauce to taste.
7. Simmer until the garlic is soft.
8. Serve with a sprinkle of freshly ground black pepper , a drizzle of sesame oil and a pinch of finely sliced scallions.
   

Kongnamul guk: veg soups can be fab too! (콩나물국)

his is a surprisingly simple and flavourful soup. Kongnamul guk (콩나물국) is made from truly basic ingredients and takes just a few minutes to cook, yielding a remarkable combination of healthiness and taste.

1. Bring to a boil 3 cups of water.
2. Add 2 generous handfuls of bean sprouts, pre-washed, and 2 tablespoonfuls of fish sauce.
3. Let simmer for 4-5 minutes.
4. Add 1 chopped spring onion, one finely sliced de-seeded chili pepper and 3 finely sliced garlic cloves.
5. Let simmer for another couple of minutes.
6. Season with sesame oil and freshly ground black pepper.
7. Serve!
   

Dakdoritang: chicken stew for wintry days (닭도리탕)

hen the city is snowed in and the frost bites your cheeks, you learn to appreciate the warmth of your home and the satiating qualities of your food with all your physical being. Nothing like hearty spicy stews on a cold December day.

Tonight I cooked dakdoritang (닭도리탕), a Korean chicken casserole. Because it sounds too Japanese, there is a movement in Korea towards renaming the dish dak-bokkeum (닭볶음). A good example of how even gastronomy can be politicised.

As a rose by any name is still a rose, let's get on with the recipe:

1. Peel 3 large potatoes and cut them in bite-size cubes. Leave them to dry in a sieve: that will help them keep shape when cooked, without disintegrating into mash.
2. Do the same with 1 large carrot and 2 large onions.
3. Mix 3 crushed cloves of garlic, a dab of fish (or soya) sauce, 1 tbsp of finely grated ginger and 2 tbsp of gochujang to make marinade.
   
4. Chop 2 organic free-range (they do taste better!) chicken legs or breasts into bite-size chunks and fold into the marinade. Leave for 15-20 minutes.
5. In the meantime, fry the vegetables in a cast-iron pot until half-ready. Remove and set aside.
6. Fry chicken until golden brown.
7. Put the veg back into the pot and add 3 cups of mushroom stock or water. Simmer for 20 minutes on a low fire, gently stirring once in a while.
   
8. Add salt or fish sauce to taste.
9. Turn off the fire and wait until the bubbling stops.
   
10. Blend in 2 tbsp of gochujang and 2 tbsp of finely grated ginger into the stew. Let stay on the stove for 10-15 minutes (although, ideally, overnight to let the flavours to mingle well!).
11. Serve on whole lettuce leaves with a sprinkle of chopped scallions and freshly cooked rice.
    

Dolsot bibimbap: Korean stone bowl fried rice (돌솥 비빔밥)

ibimbap to Koreans is what pizza is to Italians, a beloved staple. A bowl of rice topped with stripes of vegetables, meat or seafood. Like pizza toppings, the variety is limitless.

My favourite one is sanchae bibimbap (산채비빔밥) that I yet have to find in London restaurants. Sanchae (산채 or 山菜) stands for "mountain vegetables". Every year lively packs of chirpy Korean pensioners venture out into the mountainous areas to look for looking for gosari (고사리) or fiddleheads, immature fronds of bracken fern, and an array of various edible leafs that only have Latin names in English.

But here I am on about a less exotic and more widely available type of bibimbap, dolsot bibimbap (돌솥 비빔밥). Most of times it features raw, uncooked toppings because it is served in a piping hot stone bowl. The toppings get cooked as you stir them with the rice and douse with the liquid version of gochujang. I like to see shock and bewilderment on the faces of my friends when they are served a bibimbap bowl with a raw egg on top and how it changes to as it gets nicely cooked right in front of them.

Sujeonggwa: Korean cinnamon & persimmon tea (수정과)

oreans are big on teas. There exists an astounding variety of ingredients to make a culinary experience out of a simple cup of tea. By tea here I mean any kind of infusion that is served like tea.

Sujeonggwa is a Korean traditional fruit punch. It is made from dried persimmons, cinnamon and ginger, and is often garnished with pine nuts. I bet you have never thought of this combination before but it tastes utterly scrumptious!

Hwe moochim: Korean fish carpaccio (회무침 )

his is perhaps the best way to describe this dish: Korean fish carpaccio. Unlike the typical miserly platters of 3 paper-thin sheets of meat you get in Italian restos, hwe moochim (회무침 ) is a main in its own right so servings are rather large. It always takes me a while to tuck it in, coupled with a bowl of rice,

So what exactly is hwe moochim (sometimes also spelt hwe muchim)? Multiple slivers of raw fish on a generous mound of shredded raw vegetables doused in liberal quantities of gochujang-based sauce, whereto it owes its Technicolor hues. It is not as spicy as it looks though: it even has a touch sweetness that only underlines the pleasant texture of the raw fish.

Soju (Korean Kitchen) in Soho, London (소주)

love Korean cuisine, it is clean-cut and refreshing, just like the minimalistic wood-and-steel interiors of Korean restaurants around the world. Soju, in Great Windmill Street, is a savoury jewel in a not-such-savoury lane in Soho.

Strangely enough, the sign that you see when walking down the street says "Korean Kitchen", perhaps for the benefits of those who might take it for yet another Chinese grease joint that are so abundant in the vicinity.

TBC

Pro's: A wide range of Korean favourites. Quality ingredients. Friendly, efficient service.
Con's: Not really cheap.
In a nutshell: Great place for quality Korean fare.

Soju (Korean Kitchen)
32 Great Windmill Street
London, W1D 7LR
020 7434 3262

Little Korea: budget hotties

ut it it would be too spicy!" quoth our waiter when I ask where is our kimchi we were supposed to have as a side order. Well, well, well, you did not see me eating spicy yet. From our faces and accents he must have gathered we can't take hot peppers but why would we come to a Korean restaurant then at all?

Little Korea is tucked away at the very beginning of Lisle Street in Covent Garden. It is a cafeteria-looking budget eatery with an extensive Korean-Japanese menu. I stumbled upon it when walking around Covent Garden with my visitors from Amsterdam but they refused to eat "foreign muck", so I kept it until a more auspicious time, namely, Floyd's visit.

As once again I failed to get hold of my sanchae bibimbap, I went for one with seafood in a hot plate (해산물비빔밥). For the price (£5.99), it is quite a treat even though the seafood mix comes from the frozen section of the supermarket. I won't act a prissy purist, I use it myself.

Floyd had a jjam-bbong (짬뽕), which actually is the same as Japanese champon, just spicier, a generous bowl of spicy-ish udon with veggies and seafood. I must say the way I fix it is much more exciting, but don't we all think our cooking is the best! However, to give due credit jjam-bbong was hearty and honest.

The banchan (Korean side dishes customarily accompanying bigger orders) consisted of three entries.

• Firstly, rather bland if not inedible kongnamul (blanched bean sprouts) that lacked the sesame flavour I expected.
  
• Secondly, somewhat insipid courgette pickles.
• Very nice classic kimchi from Chinese cabbage, done just the way you expect, crunchy and spicy.

As it goes with Asian food and two big guys who regularly work out, that did not quite feed our faces. The bulgogi with rice (불고기 덮밥) we decided to share turn out very nice, if obviously not freshly cooked just for us. Luckily, it was not of the slimy texture of constantly reheated muck that you get all too often in many a Chinese grease joint in the area. For five quid you can't ask for more.

I love Korean food for the punchy kick of fresh flavours and, of course, hot chillis. I love the smell of gochujang and barbecued meat, what a blessed combination! The hwe moochim, a Korean cross between sashimi and spicy carpaccio that I always get in this place is always a very special treat.

Kombu: Japanese kelp

n Russian, it is called "sea cabbage" or laminaria and is normally the base ingredient for an uninspired pickled salad. When Yeltsin and his cronies were busy plundering Soviet assets, canned laminaria salad was one of the few items always available in food shops. This seaweed's taste would have forever associated for me with Yeltin's hunger winters, had I not rediscovered it upon moving to Japan. The Japanese know a myriad highly delectably uses for it and it is in Japan that I grew to love this multifarious kelp.

For hundreds of years in Buddhist Japan a ban on meat consumption ban was in force, so people had to come up with something else than veal or chicken stock for cooking. Kombu, as it is known in Japan, is one of the three main soup bases (dashi). It is of gentler flavour than the other two, which are made of dried flakes of skipper mackerel (katsuo) and shiitake.

When it is sold dry it comes in two ways: shredded (on the picture) or in sheets. It is always covered with sharp-tasting residual sea salt and hence is high in iodine. When consumed over a long period of time, kombu is known to reduce grey hair and darken your natural hair hue. Thanks to it, through the years I have gone from light brown to dark brown with not a silver hair in sight.

I use it to make stock for miso-shiru, to make congee or o-kayu for breakfast, to prepare delicious beer snack tsukudani.

Jaeyuk bokkeum: spicy Korean pork stir-fry (재육볶음)

hen it is gloomy and raining outside, I like to spice up my day with hot food. For myself, I would normally whip up something quick like Thai phad phak ruam mit or Korean gochujang-flavoured udon. For guests, I go to greater lengths. When Muhabbat and Jitte came to visit me from Amsterdam, I treated them to jaeyuk bokkeum.

Jaeyuk bokkeum (재육볶음) is a Korean stir-fried pork. Basically, you marinate thinly sliced pork and vegetables, stir-fry them and serve with lettuce, seaweed, and bean sprouts.

1. Slice thinly 400 g lean pork (or veal for Jews and Muslims), 1 big carrot, 1 big onion, 6 shiitake mushrooms pre-soaked and 1 green bell pepper.
   
2. In a large bowl mix 2 tbsp gochujang (less if you are not into spicy food), 2 tbsp shoyu, 2 tbsp rice wine (dry white wine may also do), 1 tsp brown sugar, 4-5 cloves chopped garlic, 2-inch piece of ginger finely shredded, 1 tsp black sesame and 1 tsp white sesame. I also add 1 tsp kapi paste but this is not obligatory.
   
3. Mix 1 and 2 well and leave to marinate for at least 40 minutes.
   
4. Heat well a thick-bottomed cast-iron skillet. Add 1 tbsp sesame oil and fry 3 until the pork is done.
5. Serve with lettuce, seaweed, bean sprouts and freshly cooked rice.
   

Gochujang: spicy Korean bean paste (고추장)

n the olden days, this spicy Korean condiment was left for half a year outside to ferment in large earthen pots. As a food purist as I am, I don't even dream of going to such lengths in quest of authenticity. All I need to do is to go to a Korean store, although quite a few Chinese and Japanese shops these days carry gochujang too.

It is made from chilli paste, bean powder and ground glutinous rice, which distinguishes it from Chinese doubanjian made in a very similar fashion but from chillies and beans. Gochujang's deliciously pungent aroma is essential for such trademark Korean dishes as bibimbap and naengmeyon.

According to Mrs. Che Cheun Suni, my first Japanese teacher, who also happens to be of a very noble Korean lineage, gochujang does possess certain aphrodisiac qualities, making men as hot and fiery as its taste. I welcome your comments on that, should you have a first-hand experience.

Jjam-bong: udon, Korean style (매운우동)

Long before people in Korea and Japan started calling themselves Korean and Japanese, people in Nagasaki and Pusan knew that culturally they had more in common with each other than with their respective political capitals in Edo (Tokyo) and Seoul. One of the things they shared was this dish, jjambong or champon. It is served as soup that comes in a multitude of flavours and accompanying goodies.

I fix it the Korean way. It takes exactly 15 minutes and costs under 1 quid to fix a flavourful, healthy and delicious lunch. This is how it goes.

1. Slice thinly a couple of pre-soaked shiitake. I normally keep some soaked shiitake in the fridge so that I always have it handy. Feel free to follow my suit.
2. Next thing is to soak black kikurage, white kikurage and golden needles 20 g each in water for at least 20 minutes. I f you can't get hold of those, just skip this step.
   
3. Then peel and slice a few cloves of garlic.
4. Heat a frying pan, add 1 tbsp odourless vegetable oil. Sprinkle some black and white sesame (third a teaspoonful each), wait until it starts sizzling.
   
5. Fry the garlic in the pan until fragrant (light yellow in colour), then add 3 very finely sliced medium onions. When those are nice and fragrant too, add the sliced shiitake. Fry until the mushrooms are fragrant too.
   
6. In the meantime, bring to boil exactly how much water you need for your udon. I use the bowl you can see on the picture as the measure.
7. When the water boils, add one pack of udon. Bring to boil again, reduce the heat and simmer for a couple of minutes.
   
8. Tip the frying pan into the sauce pan and add the kikurage, golden needles, and half a handful of whatever leafy vegetables you have: spinach, pakchoi, kangkong, Chinese broccoli. Dissolve 1 tbsp gochujang in the broth. You will need to find this delicious chilli paste as it is defines the taste of the whole dish.
   
9. Let boil for a minute or so. Mind that the udon does not get overdone, it should be cooked just one notch beyond al dente.
10. Serve with a sprinkle of chopped spring onions.

This spicy dish, also known as jjam-bong (짬뽕) if cooked with thinner noodles, when consumed regularly is known to boost your sexual drive.

Bi Won: or Be Warned and read the fine script

ndreas is a German volcanologist who has spent a lot of time in New Zealand walking into craters and analysing billion-year-old rocks. He also happens to be my neighbour in Brixton. Today we went to celebrate his imminent assignment in Singapore. As he knows the true meaning of hot", I thought I would take him to a Thai restaurant.

But as we walked around London from Southbank to Russell Square enjoying the sunny day, we stumbled upon a Korean place, Bi Won. Bibimbap - that is a magic word for me. Andreas did not mind. It was one hour before the dinner opening time but I betted with Andreas that Koreans would open the place a few minutes earlier. It is amazing how what Confucius said 2,500 years ago still matters to them.

I was right. Ten minutes to six the shop was open and ready to feed anyone with enough quid in their pocket.

We both went for a bibimbap set in a hot claypot (£9.50). Served on a plate that would be 1 pound cheaper but what the heck, claypots are nice. I was a tad disappointed that the bibimbap served would be a plain one. The sunchae kind, archetypal for Korean cuisine, with toraji (bellflower root) and kosari (fiddleheads), that you always get in any Korean restaurant worth its kimchi was not to be had in Bi Won. Well, I should have read the menu more carefully.

"Well", I told Andreas, "at least we get to taste all little panchan, Korean pickles and salads that come in wee bowls to accompany the bibimbap." That way, what is essentially a bowl of rice topped with veggies and a few stripes of meat, becomes a satisfying meal. We happily dug into our bibimbap bowls, letting the raw egg get cooked by the heat of the clay pot and the crust form where the rice touches the pot. Well worth the extra quid. But my heart was crying out for the panchan that still was not arriving. I reminded the proprietress of it. Her steely look told me the truth even before she put it in words.

Eat your heart out. They only serve panchan at lunch. Phew! I felt I let Andreas down. Polite as ever, he kept dutifully explore his pot. The volcanologist in him did show as he carefully avoided the fiery gochujang.

Two grown men won't get full from two bowls of rice, no matter how great it may taste. I ordered a namul platter (£6.20): kongnamul (cold boiled bean sprouts with sesame oil), musaengchae (finely julienned white radish in a sweet vinegar sauce), young zucchini namul (usually, it would be cucumbers) and sigeumchi namul (sesame-flavoured blanched spinach). It all was very lovely, crispy fresh, lightly parboiled just to give a nice crunchy texture and gently flavoured with sesame oil, garlic and soya sauce.

Pro's: Fresh good quality ingredients.
Con's: Wee bit on the pricey side. Read the fine script too.
In a nutshell: Good quality Korean food, if not the cheapest you can get.

Mung bean sprouts: the pure energy of life (もやし, 豆芽)

ruly, truly, one man's food, another man's poison. I remember how I scared my Moscow friends when I brought a bag of bean sprouts to fix some Chinese food for them. They decided they were in for a feast of creepy Asian worms.

Bean sprouts are widely used in Pacific Asian cuisines. They are known as moyashi (もやし) in Japan, dou ya (豆芽) in China, kongnamul (콩나물) in Korea, tauge in Indonesia (and Holland), thua ngok (ถั่วงอก) in Thailand. In Iran, they are traditionally prepared for the New Year's festival Navrooz. There they symbolize the power of new life.

In Thailand, folk wisdom has it that bean sprouts, when consumed raw, increase sexual drive. It come as no surprise if you consider all the life energy of enzymes and vitamines of freshly sprouting seeds!

I use them for a number of dishes: from Indonesian gado-gado to Chinese mapo-dofu. I can chew them raw much to the consternation of my friends. But I don't mind as it defo gives me a huge perk once in between the sheets! +wink wink+

Daikon-guk: clear Korean soup (식물국)

Daikon-guk is a clear beef broth served in the olden days to the Korean emperor.

The recipe is simple and the aromatic soup is deeply satisfying on a cold winter day.

1. Cut 100 g lean beef into thin strips.
2. Chop the white of one leek into thin (apprx. 2 mm) circles.
3. Peel 10 cm of daikon and cut it into thin (3-4 mm) semi-circles.
   
4. Stir-fry the beef quickly in a tablespoonful of sesame oil.
5. Add the leeks and the daikon and quickly sautee. The vegetables have to stay crunchy.
   
6. Add a splash of Kikkoman soya sauce and tip into a pot with a litre of cold water.
7. Bring to boil, switch off the heat.
8. Serve with just a tad of ground black pepper and a sprinkle of chopped parsley.

Here is a theme song for this fragrant Korean meal: