Savoring the food of life.

Passport & Plate - Kimchi Bokumbap

USA | Friday, March 14, 2014 | 5 photos

Ingredients
3 bowls of sticky rice (previously made, better if it is cold)
1 cup chopped Kimchi (the best ones are those that come as whole cabbages)
1/4 cup Kimchi juice
1 teaspoon of olive oil
1 generous tablespoon of sesame oil

 

How to prepare this recipe
Heat up the pan on medium-high heat with one teaspoon of olive oil. Make sure the pan gets really warm.
Add the chopped cup of Kimchi to the pan (should make a nice sizzling sound).
Stir-fry for about one minute.
Then add the 3 cups of cold rice to the pan and then pour the Kimchi juice on top. Poke and stir the ingredients with the wooden spoon to get everything mixed nicely. Stir for about 7 minutes.
Add the generous tablespoon of sesame oil, turn off the stove, and remove the pan from heat. Stir the pan and serve right away.
*Note: When I want to change things up, I either add a fried egg or cheese and Sriracha sauce.

 

The story behind this recipe
“Feel for it,” she said. Instead of using the normal American measuring system, my mom eyeballed and then cupped the shredded Kimchi with her hands. She tossed it into the heated pan and I heard the cabbage and its juices sizzle. In a few moments, the smell of garlic and red pepper flakes permeated the kitchen. Some of my friends find the smell of Kimchi pungent, but it reminds me of the special moments spent with my mom at home. For instance, I crawled home from a particularly long track practice and dramatically stated that I was dying of starvation. My mom responded by saying, “Wait a few minutes.” I instantly heard the flickering from the gas stove and the sliding of the cutting board from its rack. The clanging of the metal knife hitting the wooden surface of a cutting board soon followed and I exhaustedly zoned out. After about ten minutes, she brought out a steaming pan with two spoons and I jumped up to run to the table. Seconds later, we both dug in and time seemed to stand still. Nothing mattered more than shoveling spoons full of Kimchi Bokumbap into my mouth. As my face emerged from the pan and I patted my stomach, my mom and I started laughing with each other. We always felt happy after sharing a pan of food. Then, when I moved to college, the shared experience of food changed. I constantly craved this simple dish and ventured to make it by myself for the first time. With my mom on the phone, I asked, “How much oil?” “A swirl.” I imagined her imitating the motion with her arm over the phone. She constantly struggled to articulate the recipe and kept repeating, “Feel for it” for all the directions. This led to many failed pans: the undercooked Kimchi one, the overly sticky rice one, and the excessively oily one. After numerous trial and errors, I finally made my own feel-cooking Kimchi Bokumbap. Sometimes I add cheese, a fried egg, or Siraracha sauce to change things up to fit my mood—this dish taught me how to cook what feels right.