coca or vodka?
I love eating. Some of my best friendships were sparked by our mutual love of eating. And, having a multi-cultural family originating from Spain and Korea means food is a constant, collective obsession, where we debate about our favorite type of kimchi and how many eggs and onions should go into a perfect Spanish tortilla.
My relationship with food has evolved over time. When I was a competitive swimmer, it was all about eating for high performance (though I will admit to you that I was a proud winner of a Krispy Kreme Donut eating contest at one point). When I was done with the phase of engineered and purposeful eating, I happily moved on to my obsession and curiosity with food, especially if it involved a foreign language and culture.
I thought I was the luckiest person when I lied my way to a job as a waitress at a neighborhood restaurant called Les Phineas in Paris. But I quickly learned that my inability to balance trays of empty dishes and my utter failure at distinguishing between an order of coca (as in Coke or Coca Cola in English) and Vodka (as in Vodka in English) not only resulted in me drinking copious amounts of Vodka on the job (to hide any trace of my constant mistake), but also realizing that I did not have a great chance of making a living in the hospitality industry. Surprisingly, I was much better at being a cook at an Italian palazzo on an island called Isola d’Elba whose only claim to fame was being the home of Napoleon’s 1814 exile (and many German tourists since then). But that’s all relative and I realized cooking beef tongue in brandy and chopping up and frying rabbit went above and beyond my definition of culinary adventure.
So when I settled into my “grown up” career as an investment banker and lawyer, I became part of the corporate glut in fancy cities, such as NY, Hong Kong and London, where eating in ridiculously priced, Michelin-starred restaurants became the main outlet and excuse for working ridiculous hours. Talking about the new, hot restaurant that I went to or how good some artistic-looking salad comprised of a clover leaf and mysterious sauce on top at some obnoxiously expensive restaurant was how I justified working in jobs that I didn’t really care for.
Now that I run my own business and have a family, I feel at peace with my love of eating that serves no other purpose than just enjoying it with my family. I do love (and miss) going out to eat, but the places that I enjoy are hole in the wall eateries in my neighboring Koreatown or other unpretentious locales that serve simple, straightforward food. It was many years in the making and took much evolution, but I realize my love of eating really has to do with fresh, authentic food with a very low BS factor. (Yes, that means I may not take you seriously if you talk to me about umami of some exotic dish you love.) I’m happy that there is a movement towards plant based diet (even a restaurant that was voted the world’s best is joining the trend), but, for me, I just want to eat fresh mushrooms (and other vegetables) exactly as they are - I don’t need to have them turned into a pretend burger or faux rice at an exorbitant price.
I may piss off some people for saying this and be accused of not being well informed, but I’m just not sure about all the hype behind meat-alternatives and substitutes. They’re not healthy (have you seen the sodium level?) and they’re still considered processed food. More importantly, I don’t understand what is the point of perpetuating our culture’s burger/meat addiction by calling something different by the same name. Instead, shouldn’t we try to wean off burgers and meat all together and focus on educating and demonstrating to the public that fresh vegetables and fruits can be delicious even if they’re not wearing a cow uniform?
For my virtual dream box this week:
👩🍳 Millericette. I love flipping through all the beautiful cookbooks that are published these days by celebrity chefs (and just plain celebrities). But I consider them more like an eye candy, and a perfect coffee table book. As far as real cookbooks go, this is my favorite one. When I started working as a cook in Italy, I was given the original, 1960s version of this “thousand recipes” cookbook, which quickly became my bible. What I love about this collection of recipes is its terse, pragmatic set of instructions that make up no more than 2-3 sentences per recipe. Compared to today’s detailed, 1 page-long (or even 2 full pages) instructions that rival those written for operating a space rocket, this minimalist approach seems a bit odd (and refreshing). For me, what this implies is that cooking is so much more of an art than science (unless you’re baking). It also implies that whoever is reading this book should have some basic knowledge that does not need explaining. (Sorry, there is no English version of the book but, with so few words dedicated to each salivating recipe, you can totally Google Translate it.)
🔨 Maangchi. This is where I go for all my Korean recipes. And, if I want feel good entertainment, I laugh-cry and watch some of Maangchi’s videos because she comes across as a caricature of herself while making all her dishes seem so effortless and perfect. Part of the reason I like her is because she acts and speaks so much like my dear aunt who passed away more than a decade ago. The other reason why I like her is because her recipes are no frills, basic, yet delicious. Her double-fried fried chicken is out of this world.
🥖 Pan de Pueblo. My husband joined the army of pandemic bakers and has been baking delicious breads with fury. He has been reading about the fascinating history of bread making in Spain, while learning to make traditional Spanish breads at the same time. It’s like a journey through Spain by way of bread. You may be more inclined to conjure up images of jamon or croquetas when you think about Spanish cuisine, but the variety of taste, ingredients and techniques in the book will make you see those sideshow pieces of bread that are served in a discreet basket next to an extravagant main course in a different light. On a completely random note, did you know that there is actually a library of sourdough in Belgium? So many questions and comments about this, I don’t even know where to start.
🧅 Garden chive Salad. Many people have a neatly written collection of recipes and instructions that are handed down from their parents or grandparents. Because I don’t like to follow instructions when cooking and neither does my mom (who is an amazing cook) we rely on spontaneous phone calls or on-the-spot instructions. Whenever I ask my mom how much ingredient to put in a particular dish, she usually says, oh, you know, just enough to taste. This dish is one of my favorite in the spring and I apologize for not having the specific measurements to guide you (put everything in just enough to taste). It is comprised of a bunch of chives we pick from our backyard, a small spoonful of fish sauce, another spoonful of soy sauce, the same for sesame seed oil and a pinch of Korean pepper flakes. You can also add some sesame seeds for crunchiness. I had some steamed chicken and chives mandu with this salad earlier this week and it was the most perfect combination.
📚 Down and Out in London and Paris. This may not be the book that the British writer George Orwell is famous for, but it’s his first full length, semi-autobiographical book that was published in the 1930s on theme of poverty in both cities. I would even say this book reveals sobering Orwellian truths about society that would inspire him to write his most famous book, Nineteen Eighty-Four. I was given this book by a friend when I was working as a bike messenger and waitress in Paris. She thought I would appreciate Orwell’s experience of working in Parisian kitchens as a dish washer. Admittedly, my lifestyle of working in what people considered “menial” jobs was an entirely a choice of mine that I thoroughly enjoyed, but I did appreciate the perspective I got to gain in the city of lights when people assumed I was a poor refugee from Asia (really).