tekka miso

Tekka miso is a condiment traditionally made from burdock, carrots and lotus roots. The grated roots are slowly cooked in sesame oil, then blended with ground black sesame seeds, ginger, and Hatcho miso— a dark, long-fermented type of miso made entirely from soybeans. The paste is slowly cooked over a low fire until all of the moisture evaporates, resulting in a dry, crumbly mixture.

Prized in Japan for its flavor and aroma, tekka miso is reminiscent of chocolate and coffee. Not surprising as it, too, is a product of fermentation and roasting, with parallel complexity.

tekka miso
makes 200ml (¾ cup)

9g sesame oil
30g grated daikon
30g grated carrot
25g grated beet root
25g finely minced scallion
25g black sesame paste
6g microplaned gingerroot
130g hatcho or red miso

Line the bottom of a skillet with the sesame oil and set over medium heat. Add the daikon, carrot, beet root and scallion and toss to coat with the oil. Cook until vegetables just begin to take on color, then lower the heat to medium low and continue cooking until soft and tender, stirring often. Add the sesame paste and gingerroot, pressing into vegetable mixture until incorporated (it will form a clump). Cook for 2-3 minutes while spreading and turning the mixture, then blend in the miso. Spread the resulting thick paste in the bottom of the pan in an even layer. Turn the heat down to lowest setting and continue cooking for 20-30 minutes. Alternately, the mixture can be spread on a baking sheet and baked in a 65C/150F oven. In either case, turn and spread the mixture every few minutes until it is dry and crumbly. Cool before packing into jars. Store in refrigerator for up to 3 months.

roasted buna shimeji stems (brown beech mushrooms)
asparagus pudding
tekka miso

miso

I was making miso when I heard the news about Japan. Sendai miso. I stopped to watch the footage on the same TV screen that, at any given moment, on numerous other channels, I could watch other horrific scenes played out. But this was real. It was happening. Days later, it's still hard to grasp the destruction… the devastation… the loss… the redesign of geography… the bending of time. And as the crisis escalates from a natural disaster to one made by man, I remain in awe of the grace and dignity of the people of Japan.

prepared miso, ready for fermentation
The label indicates the date of production and date of "first sample".
I expect it to take at least a year until it will be ready for use.

Miso is surprisingly easy to make. The hardest parts are: waiting six months to over a year for the fermentation process to complete, and procuring the koji. Although shoyu, miso and sake combined make up 2 percent of the GNP of Japan, there are only about six companies that produce koji, making it difficult to buy in small quantities. I purchased mine from naturalimport.com, but even they are currently out of stock. If you are an adventurous do-it-yourself'er, you can make koji by inoculating rice with tane-koji (Aspergillus oryzae spores), available from GEM cultures.

There are many types of miso, ranging from sweet white (shiro miso), light yellow (shinshu miso), sweet red (edo miso), to barley miso (mugi miso). They vary by ratios of soybeans:koji:salt and in length of fermentation. Sometimes, as is the case with mugi miso, barley (instead of rice) is inoculated with the tane-koji. I chose to make red (sendai miso) because it is what I use most in my kitchen.

red miso (sendai miso)
makes 1.5 litres (just over 6 cups)

PREPARING TO MAKE MISO:
   • To avoid contamination, sterilize everything that will come in contact with the miso.
   • Choose a cylindrical earthenware or glass vessel whose diameter is less than its height. The miso should fill the vessel by at least 80%.
   • Choose a lid to fit snugly inside the vessel. It should be rigid and flat and can be of any material, but porous or reactive material should be well wrapped and sealed with several layers of plastic wrap.

PREPARING SOYBEANS:
1. Rinse 397g/14oz dried organic soybeans under cool running water, then place them into a pressure cooker*. Add 1L/1qt spring water. Cook on high pressure for 40 minutes, then allow pressure to release naturally. Beans should be soft enough to crush easily. (*If pressure cooker is unavailable, soak beans in water for 8-10 hours, then bring to a boil with 2L/2qts spring water. Reduce heat and cook beans at a simmer for 4-5 hours, or until tender.)
2. Pour hot, cooked beans through a strainer, reserving the liquid. Allow to drain for 10 minutes.
3. For a rough, rustic texture, mash beans with a fork or a potato masher. For smooth texture, puree in food processor. Transfer beans to a non-reactive bowl.

PREPARING MISO:
4. Measure 454g/16oz of the reserved bean cooking liquid. Add 163g/5.75oz kosher salt. Stir.
5. Add mixture to mashed beans. Stir until well blended.
6. Check the temperature of the bean mixture. It should be no higher than 37.78C/100F. Set aside to cool, if necessary, then add 340g/12oz koji. Stir until well blended.

PREPARING MISO FOR FERMENTATION:
7. With clean hands, moisten the inside of vessel by dabbing the walls and bottom with wet fingertips. Sprinkle 3g/½tsp kosher salt inside vessel and distribute evenly with fingertips.
8. Pack prepared miso tightly into vessel, stopping between layers to press and release trapped air pockets. Smooth top of miso and sprinkle 6g/1tsp kosher salt evenly over surface.
9. Cover miso with a piece of plastic wrap, pressing onto surface and draping over rim of vessel. Secure plastic wrap to top of vessel with a rubber band or string, leaving a little slack to allow for compression.
10. Fit lid inside rim of vessel. Press firmly. Place a 1-1.5kilo/2-3lb weight on top of lid. Affix label to vessel with the date of preparation and the estimated date of completion.

FERMENTATION:
For natural fermentation (1-3 years)— Choose a clean, cool (not over 21C/70F), dry location that is well ventilated and not in direct sunlight, such as a garage, barn, or cellar. Elevate vessel so that it is not sitting on floor. Do not disturb miso for at least the first six months, except to monitor the level of tamari (liquid) that rises to the top. After one month, if there is no tamari, increase the weight on the vessel. If there is more than 1/2", decrease the weight. After six months, The tamari can be tasted for aroma and flavor, keeping in mind that it will be saltier than the finished miso. Surface mold is not harmful and can be scraped off, in which case the surface should be re-salted and covered with a clean piece of plastic. Continue to sample every three months until the flavor is mature and satisfactory. If at anytime the miso tastes or smells overly acidic, sour, or alcoholic, it should be discarded.

Miso can be fermented in under 6 months by storing in a carefully controlled environment between 21C/70F and 32C/90F, a process that is too detailed to cover here. For further information and inspiration on how to make and use miso, refer to the comprehensive "The Book of Miso", by William Shurtleff and Akiko Aoyagi.

consuming passion

heart fortune cookies

There is some room to play with the flavor of these cookies— the oil, juice, and extract can be varied according to your desired flavor profile and the sugar can be infused with strongly-scented products such as herbs, vanilla beans, citrus peel, or rose petals.

❤cookie batter:
2 egg whites
46g sweet almond oil
13g beet juice
4g raspberry extract
100g sugar
67g AP flour
6g cornstarch
red food coloring

Place the egg whites, oil, juice, and extract in a medium bowl and whisk lightly to incorporate. Sift the sugar, flour, and cornstarch together and add to wet ingredients. Stir with a wooden spoon until batter is smooth. Add food coloring to desired shade and blend well.

❤stencil:
cookie template
thick sheet of acetate or plastic
X-acto knife or sharp blade
slips of paper printed with fortunes, folded in half

trace cookie template onto acetate or plastic. Cut out center with an X-acto knife or sharp blade.

❤to make cookies:
Preheat oven to 163C/325F. Place stencil on silpat or parcment-lined baking sheet. Spoon about a Tablespoon of batter onto center of stencil cutout. With a small offset spatula, spread the batter thinly and evenly to completely fill cutout in stencil. Carefully lift stencil and rinse and pat dry for next use. If you have experience with shaping hot tuiles, you can bake up to 4 cookies at a time— beginners should start with one. Place baking sheet in the oven and check after 4 minutes. The surface should be glossy but not wet to the touch and the edges should be just starting to brown. Remove baking sheet from oven and carefully (they're hot!) but quickly (they must be worked hot) peel cookie off of silpat and flip it top side down. Place a folded fortune in the center of the cookie. Lift pointed edge that is nearest to you and fold up and over to meet and align with other pointed edge, enclosing the fortune. Lift the cookie with the points facing up, pinching them together and lightly drape the folded bottom edge over the rim of a cup or bowl to create the crease that will form the top of the heart. Hold the cookie in place over the rim until it hardens while working the sides together so that they meet and close. The cookie must be shaped while it is hot and flexible— if it hardens too quickly, it can be returned to the oven for 1-2 minutes to soften. Place cookies in a muffin tin to hold their shape until they cool.

mortadella kohlrabi pistachio

Kohlrabi is unique among vegetables in that the edible part is actually a swollen stem. The leaves, which are commonly eaten in parts of India, are often removed in US markets. On the few occasions that I've grown kohlrabi, I've found the leaves to be similar in texture and flavor to kale, collards and other cruciferous greens. This vegetable is really about the stem.

Always look for small kohlrabi, as large ones can be pithy. Once the thin skins are removed, the crisp, creamy-white orbs can be enjoyed cooked or raw. Sliced thin, they make excellent quick pickles.

Lately, I've taken to replacing the water in a pickle solution with fruit juice when I want a bit of sweetness. Apple juice works well, but white grape juice doesn't darken the pickle as much.

kohlrabi quick pickle

250g cider vinegar
4.5g kosher salt
200g white grape juice
2.5g pink peppercorns
8 allspice berries
2 bay leaves
5 small kohlrabi

Combine vinegar and salt in saucepan. Heat until salt is dissolved. Remove from heat and stir in grape juice and spices. Let cool completely. Meanwhile, peel the kohlrabi and slice thinly with a knife or a mandoline. Place kohlrabi in a clean jar or bowl and pour cooled brine over top. Stir to separate slices. Set aside, covered, in refrigerator. Pickles can be consumed after 2 hours, but are better after 4. There is little difference in flavor if kept for longer than 4 hours, but they will continue to soften.

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I've always thought of mortadella as bologna's refined older sister and the hotdog as their skinny younger brother. Indeed, they all belong to a family of cured sausages that utilize meat paste.

This dish came together while exploring various textures of mortadella that started with thin, silky slices wrapped around a light mousse of liquid mortadella and gelatin. When whipped, the gelatin gives the mousse structure without added fat and a clean mouthmelt. For the third texture: crispy pan fried mortadella strips. The fourth was added when I heated a dollop of the mousse in a hot pan and watched it spread and form a lacy wafer. Brittle and crisp, the wafers add textural interest with a bacony flavor.

Mortadellaravioli

mortadella mousse

This versatile mousse can be used as a dip for crudites or spread on toasted brioche. Here, it's used to fill thin slices of mortadella ravioli-style and made into lace wafers by thinly spreading dollops on a nonstick skillet and cooking over medium-high heat until water evaporates and they harden.

90g mortadella, cubed
93g hot water
12g tepid water
2g gelatin

Place mortadella and hot water in high speed blender and blend for 5 minutes, or until mortadella is liquified. Place tepid water in microwavable bowl and sprinkle gelatin over top. Let bloom for 3 minutes, then stir and heat in microwave in 30-second increments, until gelatin is completely dissolved. Add to mixture in blender and blend briefly to incorporate. Pour mixture out into a large bowl and allow to cool to room temperature. Half-fill a larger bowl with ice and cold water to make an ice bath. Set bowl with mousse mixture inside ice bath and beat with a hand-held electric mixer until mixture lightens in color and texture and holds its shape.

mortadella mousse ravioli
pan fried mortadella
mortadella lace
kohlrabi pickle
raw pistachio pesto

sticky toffee foie pudding

I remember the moment I fell in love with textiles. I was studying fashion design at Parsons when the draping instructor suggested I attend an exhibit of 18th century textiles at the Met. I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to see a bunch of dusty old fabrics. "Go", she said. "they will inspire you."

Coming out of a lifetime of denim, polyester, and cotton jersey, I was hopelessly unprepared for the opulence of that exhibit. Printed chintzes, sumptuous velvet brocades, luxe silk damasks, allegorical Toile de Jouy, gossamer laces—each one a masterpiece of fiber and thread. Collectively, they told a story of a pre-industrial era of impeccable craftsmanship and a soignee world of extravagance and luxury. I had no desire to possess them, I wanted only to bask in their splendor.
I was, indeed, inspired.

If ever there was to be an exhibit of Pure Luxury, foie gras would make a salient display. The luxury of foie is not in its price, though considerable, but in the sensual experience of consuming it. I've always found it's velvety mouthfeel and resonant flavor to be more hedonistically aligned with a rich dessert.

Among other things, studying fashion instilled in me an awareness of trends and the cycles of design; most are just revivals of old elements made new for modern taste. Looking through a book of medieval cookery, I was struck by how many savory dishes were made sweet with honey and fruits. Now, it seems, the dessert cycle has leaned towards the savory— adding salt, savory herbs, vegetables and animal. The latter— lest we forget— includes eggs, butter and cream. How to take it to the next step? Are we ready for fish, flesh, or offal even, in our dessert? Maybe we'll never be ready for candied kidneys, but in regards to foie gras, I can only wonder "what took so long?".

Brandy-soaked cubes of foie, embedded in moist cakes redolent of dates and muscavado, an arabesque of sticky sweet brandy-spiked sauce— it is the stuff of baroque fairy tales; a decadence fit for kings and queens— the gustatory equivalent of brocade pillows and damask sheets.

sticky toffee foie pudding
red currant jelly ice cream
sugared red currants

sticky toffee foie pudding
serves 6

40g foie gras, cleaned of veins
130g Tuaca or brandy
60g dates, roughly chopped
86g reserved Tuaca or brandy from soaking foie
56g unsalted butter at room temperature
55g muscovado sugar
97g eggs
84g flour
4g baking soda
6g baking powder

sauce:
78g muscovado sugar
1.5g salt
175g heavy cream
25g butter
30g reserved Tuaca or brandy from soaking foie

Cut foie with a heated knife into 6 cubes, each measuring 1.25cm x 1.25 cm x 2cm and place in small bowl. Pour Tuaca or brandy over foie to submerge (use more if needed). Set aside to marinate for 2 hours. Strain through a fine sieve, reserving brandy for cake and sauce.
Heat 86g of reserved brandy in a small saucepan to 43C/110F. Add dates and cook over very low heat for 5 minutes. Remove pan from heat, cover, and set aside for 10-15 minutes to soften dates. Stir the dates and brandy vigorously with a wooden spoon until they break up and the mixture looks like a chunky puree. Set aside to cool.
Preheat oven to 176C/350F. Grease 6 small dariole molds. Cream the butter and sugar with an electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment on medium speed until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and beat for 2 minutes, then add the date/brandy puree and beat for 1 minute. Sift together the dry ingredients and add to mixer. Beat for 1-2 minutes, or just until incorporated.
Spoon batter into each of greased molds until half full. Place a cube of marinated foie in each of the molds, then cover with remaining batter until molds are nearly full. Place filled molds in a baking dish, spacing them 5cm apart. Pour boiling water into baking dish until it comes halfway up the sides of the molds. Immediately cover tightly with foil and place in oven. Bake for 12 minutes or until the top of the cake springs back when pressed. Remove cakes from water bath, cover loosely with foil to keep warm while making sauce.
To make sauce: Place all ingredients except brandy in a medium saucepan. Set over medium heat and whisk while cooking until thick and smooth, about 4- 5 minutes. Remove from heat and whisk in 30g of reserved brandy until smooth and silky.
To serve: Unmold the warm cakes and dip each one in the sauce, rolling around until well coated. Transfer each to serving plate and carefully spoon a small amount of sauce over the top, letting it drip down the sides. Serve warm.

jelly ice cream

"His ideal of dessert is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." She offered that as an explanation right after she said there would be no birthday cake.

"Maybe ice cream and cookies… something we can stick some candles in."

So I set out to make a special birthday dessert for someone who doesn't like cake, but likes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and, apparently, ice cream and cookies. Easy, I thought, I'll make peanut butter cookies and grape ice cream sandwiches. As luck would have it, I had a concord grape puree in my freezer that would serve as the base for the ice cream. And I had a recipe for killer peanut butter cookies that I had refined over the years and recently tweaked to include miso. But you know what they say about the best laid plans…

Unpacking in the client's kitchen, I had a sudden vision of the grape ice cream… still sitting in my freezer at home! I wanted to panic but there was no time. My schedule was tight even before I was asked to move dinner up a half hour.

As I began preparing dinner, my attention turned to a replacement for the ice cream. With a kitchen full of professional appliances, but no cooks in the house, I knew there was little chance of finding an ice cream maker tucked away in a cupboard. I had plenty of cream, but nothing for a flavor base or sugar. A search through the kitchen produced neither, but I did find three jars of grape jelly. I assessed the situation: no equipment to churn— but I had cream and a sweetened flavor base. A plan was quickly put in place: melt the jelly, blend in the cream, freeze in a shallow tray, whisk often, hope for the best, and pray that I wasn't turning into Sandra Lee. I got the base in the freezer just as the first guests arrived. They were hungry. And impatient. And I had to focus on dinner.

It wasn't until dinner was on the table and I returned to the kitchen that I remembered the neglected ice cream base. I opened the freezer expecting to find a solid block of grape-flavored ice crystals. To my surprise (and relief) it yielded easily to a spoon and out came a scoop of creamy smooth ice cream!

Since then, I've made this ice cream several times with both commercial and homemade jellies. I've tried churning it in an ice cream machine to test the difference. It was slightly creamier, but not dramatically so. I've even kept it uncovered(!) in the freezer for 4 days with no loss of texture or ice crystal build up. I believe this works because jelly is largely invert sugar and pectin, a combination with a high freezing point that stabilizes texture by preventing it from freezing solid and forming ice crystals.

While it may not be the most refined of ice creams, it comes together with only two ingredients and minimal effort. That alone (and that it saved my ass) is worth adding it to my emergency food kit.

stupid-simple jelly ice cream

measure by weight:
7 parts jelly
10 parts heavy cream

Melt the jelly until it is completely fluid. Add the heavy cream, a little at a time, while whisking. Pass through sieve into a bowl or container. Freeze thoroughly.

peanut butter miso cookies

Some time ago, I mentioned adding miso to peanut butter cookies on twitter. I received a number of requests for the recipe/ratios, which I promised to post.

You wouldn't know that it's miso that makes these cookies special unless you were privy, but you'll notice the difference in the rounded flavor. Sweets that are nuanced with savory and salty are always a winning combination in my book.

peanut butter miso cookies

makes 24 7.5cm/3" cookies

106g unsalted butter, at room temperature
130g peanut butter
40g shiro miso (light miso)
88g dark brown sugar (preferably muscavado)
80g granulated sugar
8g glucose
53g egg
5g baking soda
10g boiling water
175g all-purpose flour

Place the butter, peanut butter, miso, brown sugar, granulated sugar, and glucose in a mixer bowl. Beat the ingredients with the paddle attachment at medium speed until light and creamy. Add the egg and beat just until incorporated. In a small bowl, dissolve the baking soda in the boiling water and add to the mixer bowl along with the flour. Mix on low speed for 2 minutes until all of the ingredients are well combined.
Preheat oven to 163C/325F, or 157C/315F if using convection. Using a 3.80cm/1.5" scoop, lay out level scoops of dough on a silpat or parchment-lined baking sheet, leaving about 5cm/2" between cookies to allow for spreading. Chill cookies for 20 minutes to firm dough. Scoops of raw dough can also be frozen for future cookie cravings, then packed into ziplocks. Remove cookies from refrigerator and press with the tines of a fork in a cross-hatch pattern, if desired. Bake for 10 minutes for a softer cookie, or 12 for a crisper cookie.

Miso and peanut butter are so similar in appearance and texture that I'm surprised I haven't made the connection before. In addition to improving a classic cookie, the peanut butter-miso connection captured my imagination for another product: peanut miso.

Most people don't realize that peanuts are in fact legumes. Culinarily, we use them like nuts, but botanically they belong to the plant family Leguminosae, or Fabaceae, and are more closely related to peas and beans. This connection begs the question: if miso is made from soybeans, can it also be made from other beans?

I do know that [I] can't make miso from citrus rinds, though I gave it a good try. During the 10 month fermentation, I had hopes of transforming all sorts of products by fermenting with Aspergillus oryzae(koji mold), the fungus used in the production of miso, soy sauce, and sake. In my haste to make a new product, I failed to follow two fundamental tenets: understanding of product and process, and groundwork. Had I started with a time-honored traditional soybean miso, I would've had a map for when it was on course and where it veered off. Had I done my research, I would have understood that pectin-rich citrus pericarps were not an inviting environment for the enzymatic reaction that koji forms with protein.

Still, I'm hopeful and excited about roasted peanut miso.
And spicy black bean miso.
And fermented hummus.
But first— I'll start with the basics.

a new beginning

"Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true."
~Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Wishing you a delicious New Year.

Cheers,
Linda

new beginning
makes 8 drinks

Tuaca is a brandy-based Italian liqueur, subtly flavored with citrus and vanilla. Infusing it with the perfumed zest of buddha's hand citron gives it another dimension of flavor.
This is a drink to linger over, to enjoy the layers of flavor as the bay-infused eggnog sphere melts into the liqueur— a perfect libation to contemplate a new year and a new beginning.

150g heavy cream
2g fresh bay leaves
.15g fresh grated nutmeg
2 egg yolks
5g sugar
30g mascarpone

350g Tuaca
15g buddha's hand citron zest strips
50g Patron XO Cafe

frozen eggnog spheres: Place the heavy cream in a small pan and bring to a simmer. Add the bay leaves and nutmeg, stir and cover. Set aside for 20 minutes to infuse. Remove bay leaves and bring back to a simmer. Whip the egg yolks with the sugar on high speed in a mixer bowl with the whisk attachment until light in color and slightly thickened. Slowly drizzle in the hot infused cream while whisking on low. Stir in the mascarpone. Pour eggnog into 8 sphere molds and freeze until solid.

citron-infused Tuaca: Place the Tuaca and citron zest in a .5 Litre iSi whip canister. Screw on the lid and charge with 1 N2O cartridge. Swirl the contents gently for 1 minute. Discharge gas quickly, remove lid and set aside for 15 minutes.

To serve: Place a frozen eggnog sphere in the bottom of each of 8 glasses. Strain infused Tuaca into a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Add XO Cafe. Shake vigorously and strain over the eggnog spheres. Serve immediately.

autumn glory kimchi

Fiesty. Fragrant. Fiery. I love kimchi in all of its funky fermented forms

Koreans make a hundred different kinds of kimchi and perhaps a hundred more that are undocumented. They range from familiar varieties made with common ingredients like cabbage and radishes to wildly esoteric regional specialties such as Doraji kimchi, made with bellflower roots. Fruits, vegetables, seaweed, fish, meat— you name it— anything can be (and probably has been) made kimchi.
In addition to the bulk ingredients (or 'so'), kimchi's flavor is defined by the traditional seasoning of garlic, ginger, scallions, and the burn of hot chili pepper. But it was not always the fiery condiment that we know today. Early versions were simple pickled vegetables— a process that Koreans adopted from the Chinese.
During the Josean Dynasty that began in the late 14th century, Korea was swept by a culinary renaissance that stemmed from an agricultural boom. As cultivated crops became abundant and varied, new vegetables and spices were introduced from other countries. But no other ingredient produced such a profound change in the Korean diet as red hot chili pepper.

Pumpkins and sweet potatoes were among the newly introduced vegetables and it wasn't long before they each found a place among the expanding repertoire of kimchi— pumpkin in Hobak kimchi, and sweet potato in Kogumajulgi kimchi. Here they are united with asian pear and kale in a deliciously seasonal version.

autumn glory kimchi

1 liter boiling water
215g kosher salt
300g pumpkin, sliced 6mm thick and cut into 7cm long leaves
150g sweet potato, sliced 6mm thick and cut into 2.5cm x 7cm rectangles
100g asian pear, sliced 6mm thick and cut into 5cm rounds
80g kale leaves, roughly chopped

40g thinly sliced scallions
20g microplaned garlic
20g microplaned fresh ginger
5g ground dried bird chilies

Pour the boiling water into a large nonreactive bowl. Stir in the salt until it is dissolved. Cool completely, then add the pumpkin, sweet potato, asian pear, and kale, pressing down until they are completely submerged. Set aside in a cool place for 4 hours.
Pour the brine out of the bowl and refill with fresh, cold water. Set aside for 5 minutes, then drain thoroughly through a colander. Return vegetables to the bowl. Add remaining ingredients and toss gently until seasoning is evenly distributed.
Pack mixture into a glass jar or ceramic crock. Press firmly until exuded liquid covers the solids. If necessary, insert a weighted plate into the jar or crock to keep the contents submerged. Cover and set aside to ferment for 3-4 days in a cool (10C/50F) spot, then transfer to the refrigerator, where it can be stored for up to 1 month. Kimchi can be consumed after the 3 day fermentation, but the flavor will continue to develop in storage.

pumpkin oven

The final week of November is, without doubt, the busiest of my year. Between filling orders at the restaurant and cooking for clients, the cooking marathon known as Thanksgiving passes me by in a blur. Even though it's stressful, I enjoy the process, knowing that I am contributing to what is perhaps the most nostalgic— thus, emotional meal of the year. As always, organization keeps things flowing smoothly, but there are always glitches— forgotten ingredients, malfunctioning equipment, etc. The real drama, though, plays out when I shut down at night. The stress and anxiety that I have no time for during the day manifests itself in my dreams— or, more accurately— nightmares.

One perennial nightmare that perplexes me is when the entire turkey vanishes into thin air after being loaded into the oven, never to be seen again. In another, dessert turns into a calamity of events that begin with a pumpkin souffle that sinks like a battleship and ends with flambeed cranberries that set the dining room on fire. Then there's the one where I spill a cup of hot coffee down a guest's back. Oh… wait… that one actually happened.

Mercifully, whether in reality or the imagination, Thanksgiving does not only induce visions of disaster; sometimes there are glimpses of perfection: crackling golden skin, moist juicy flesh, fluffy potatoes, flaky crusts, flavors that produce smiles and make memories. And, in the most traditional of holidays, it is only in the nocturnal world that I am allowed flights of food fantasies like this one:
A colossal gilded pumpkin , pulled from a cavernous oven, placed on a carriage and escorted into the dining room by a pair of footmen dressed like dandy pilgrims. Guests gathered round as the lid was lifted off the pumpkin, releasing a cloud of enticing aromas. The footmen, standing on tufted stools, reached in and pulled out a golden brown turkey large enough to feed a crowd. They reached in again and each pulled out a pumpkin, one filled with potatoes, the other with chestnuts. They reached in yet again and pulled out more pumpkins, these filled with brussels sprouts and cranberries. This went on and on like clowns coming out of a Volkswagen until the sizable table groaned with pumpkins filled with all manner of fruits, grains, and vegetables.
An entire meal for the masses cooked in a pumpkin!

Cooking in a pumpkin is nothing new. Indigenous North Americans used hollowed-out pumpkins and gourds as cooking vessels. They would fill them with soups or stews and drop in hot rocks or cook them along with their contents, buried in hot embers. Early European settlers adopted this method by filling them with a custard made of eggs, milk, and honey. Although there is no documentation, there is speculation that this dessert appeared on early Thanksgiving tables. Similarly, in Thailand, Sankaya is a popular street food that consists of a pandanus-scented coconut milk custard, steamed in a small kabocha squash. You can find a recipe and video here.

Now that the holiday has passed (without incident), my waking life, as well as dreamland, can calm down. Inspired by the fantastical dream, I created my own private feast from my very own personal pumpkin oven.

Remove breast and backbone from quail. Stuff cavity with fresh lemon balm.

Cover quail with aromatic paste: Mix together 10g microplaned fresh ginger (1" piece), 10g microplaned garlic (2 medium cloves), 3.5g ground long pepper (1 tsp), 1g ground dried bird chili (1/2 tsp), 4g ground sumac (1 1/2 tsp), 16g extra virgin olive oil (1 Tblsp), 6g kosher salt (1 tsp).

Cut the top off of a medium-sized sugar pumpkin. Scrape out pulp and seeds. Bake in a 176C/350F oven for 30 minutes to heat the cavity. Meanwhile, bring 103g (1/2 cup) apple cider to a boil. Add 42g (1/4 cup) wild pecan rice and a pinch of salt. Return to boil and remove from heat. Immediately pour into warmed pumpkin. Lay a few sprigs of lemon balm over rice. Place quail on top of lemon balm. Cover pumpkin with lid and return to oven. Turn oven temperature up to 232C/450F and bake for 45 minutes, or until rice is tender and quail reaches 74C/165F.

Bring pumpkin oven to table and admire.

Lift lid and inhale.

Serve quail and rice with autumn bbq sauce and a scoop of the fragrant roasted pumpkin flesh. Enjoy.