beanpastestew

Seomjin River Cherry Flower Oysters

rogerinkorea — Mon, 28 Apr 2014 11:01:00 GMT

In Korea's South Gyeongsang Province where tidal waters bring salinity up into the lower reaches of the Seomjin River, there grows oysters. Estuary oysters or Crassostrea gigas as they are known to the scientific community. Commercially they are known as the "Pacific Oyster," and to Korean people they are referred to as 'Cherry Flower' oysters or "Kot.guel" in their language. The oysters are given this name by the Koreans because the best time to eat the oysters is around the same time of year that the cherry trees in Korea blossom with their white and pink and red flowers - in April.

Estuary oysters grow in other parts of the world, too, but depending on the geography of their locations they have different tastes and shell structures. They are generally the same size as the Korean variety, which is said to be the indigenous home of the 'Kotguel,' and are harvested at about the same growth rate of 2 to 3 years when the oysters are mature adults. But along the Seomjin River northwest of the town of Hadong on county route 19, there's a family of restaurateurs, who also operate a cherry oyster aqua farm, who let their oysters mature as long as 4 to 5 years before harvesting, which produces a very large size bivalve. The owner of the family's restuarant told my friend and I when we were having a late afternoon lunch of Kotguel and crab soup (along with several side dishes and rice), that they have even allowed some of their oysters to mature for as long as 7 to 8 years. But at that length of time the oysters are beginning to enter into the last stage of their life cycle and the quality starts to decline.

Allowing the oysters to age for four or five years, one might think that the oysters would be tough, chewy and quite salty to the taste. But my friend and I found just the opposite to be true. The oysters we were served were humongous in size, tender in texture, and absent of any heavy taste of salt. We were quite surprised when the owner told us that that aprticular batch of Kotguel were just about five years in growth. The only downside to such a large bivalve laying before the diner[s] is that it is not easy to eat (with chopsticks, a fork or with fingers), thus I highly recommend, which my friend and I had to do, cutting the oysters into smaller, more manageable morsels with a pair of kitchen scissors.

People around Korea seek out these springtime delicacies even though the price can be quite high for the premium sized and plumpest of the harvest. Cherry Flower oysters in Korea are genrally served at their 2-3 year growth rate, thus being about the same smallish size as their counterparts around the globe. Most restaurants around the country that do serve Cherry Flower oysters, five-star hotels included, serve the smaller but still succulent types. Only around the town of Hadong will travelers find the large species, and at that you will have to ask and shop around to seek them out.

In the Village of Milli

rogerinkorea — Mon, 28 Apr 2014 10:33:11 GMT

With friends, I sat at a rickety little table outside the taverna just up the hill from the village of Milli on Greece's Mount Ochi on the island of Euboa (Evvia), where I would be staying with them for the spring and summer. We were waiting for our dinner, my first Greek countryside dinner, when there came an unsuspected, loud, high-pitched, nerve-chilling, split-second animalistic cry from behind where we were sitting.
"I cook for you," the proprietor of the taverna spoke heartedly as he stepped out from behind the building, holding a baby lamb by its hind legs, its body hanging limp, its head dangling obliquely to one side, the animal's life dripping from its neck all along the ground. My friends, being Greek countryside people, went on talking nonchalantly, glancing over at me to take account of my reaction to the scene, the look on my face obviously screaming out: "How in the world did I end up HERE?"
But I did end up there, in that ancient place with its history intertwined down through the millennia with the Phoenicians, the Romans, the Turkish, its people cultivating a culture in herders of goats, people of the sea, growers of olives, lemons and herbs - bakers of bread. As my stay lingered with the slow pace of life of that quiet land, I made friends with farmers, fishermen, a merchant, a monk and 'Missus' Basiz, dear old 'Missus' Basiz, eighty-six years of life on Euboa and still herding her goats up Mount Ochi every morning, leaving twice-a-week as she passed the veranda of our house a round of her freshly made "Mizithra" cheese - Ah, that Mizithra! And that lovely Missus Basiz.
That slow pace of living that was an ongoing integral part of Euboa's culture and way of life when I was there, gave me much time to think about and be thankful for being invited to join a group of artisans, in the restoration of one of the many historic Greek Orthodox churches that dot the islands throughout Greece, and how that invitation led me to 'end up' in the village of Milli enjoying my first taste of braised lamb in the tradition of the Greek countryside.

Photos: bullfighting in Korea

rogerinkorea — Thu, 13 Mar 2014 17:28:00 GMT

international bullfighting festival-cheongdo , Korea

Bullfighting in Korea

rogerinkorea — Thu, 13 Mar 2014 16:51:00 GMT

OLE! WITHOUT MATADORS, PICADORS or BLOOD

In the central region of Korea just southeast of the major city of Daegu, lies the town of Cheongdo and its nearby Iseo Valley farming community. It is in Iseo Valley, at the end of March, beginning of April, where travellers can experience the Cheongdo International Bullfighting Festival. That's Right! You read correctly; there's bullfighting in Korea.

Bullfighting in Korea has a long tradition historically dating back to the Shilla Dynasty era (57 BC - 935 AD), and a long tradition of having a unique style of competition, civilized, humane, and for the most part, bloodless, quite unlike the "El Toro" slaughtering events you might see in Mexico or Spain. Bullfighting in Korea is an exact literal understanding of the term: Bulls Fighting. In the Korean tradition there are no picadors poking sharpened lances into flanks and backs and necks, or matadors flashing polished swords above the heads of weakended animals succumbing to the cries of crowds calling for their blood. Nor is there any lopping-off of ears and tails of the fallen in defeat, or the bravado prancing of toreadores recieiving roses in reigning glory.

Bullfighting Korean style is striaght forward, "Mano a Mano," or I should say 'Toro a Toro.' Six-hundred and forty to well over seven-hundred and thirty kilograms in weight, the bulls face-off one-on-one, snorting, grunting, drooling, pushing, shoving, sometimes charging their massive bodies of muscle and sweat into an opponent's side trying to topple him off guard. Individual battles between bulls can last quite some time, as brutes of 1,400 to 1,600 pounds usually don't give up easily. Although, this traveller has seen matches where one bull or another just didn't have it in his heart to fight on a particular day and the contests ended minutes after their starts. Most fights, however, are generally long and end when one bull goes down on his front knees or simply turns and walks away, signaling that he is "out of steam."

When I first visited the bullfights at the festival grounds along Iseo Valley some years back, the events were held outdoors on a field full of colorful tents and lean-tos, with the grounds noisily exciting and with the smells of meats grilling over charcoal fires, exotic spices spilling through the air, vendors hawking their wares in sing-song cadences, music playing and chilren running and laughing, all in the same spirit as an old European Medieval fair. But, these days that lively farmers' tradition has been replaced with an "upscale" for tourists version of the event, now held indoors in a closed-top stadium style arena - Blah!

But nonetheless, bullfighting Korean style is worth going to see for an afternoon just to experience something that you probably won't experience anywhere else. And besides, you'll have a good time despite the upscale changes.

Photos: spring cleaning the mind and body: black bone chicken, tree-water & cress

rogerinkorea — Sun, 2 Mar 2014 17:48:00 GMT

healthy spring foods from Korea

spring cleaning the body and mind:

rogerinkorea — Sun, 2 Mar 2014 17:09:00 GMT

The vernal Equinox is just on the horizon. The western calendar has it registered for arrival in Asia on the twenty-second day of March. But according to the traditional Chinese Lunar calendar, which is used similarly in Korea, Japan and Vietnam, spring has already arrived. That means, at least in Korea, that it is the time of year for nature and humankind alike to shed the grays of winter, the time for rejuvenating their earthly bodies with the newness of life.

In Korea, it's the custom of many people in the month of March to put away their winter clothes and to cleanse their bodies of the sluggishness of the January and February cold by eating natural medicinal foods. Three of those natural, healthy sustenances that have been part of the Korean medicinal culinary fare for generations are Black Bone Chicken, Tree-Water and Cress.

Black Bone Chicken, as its name implies, is a type of poultry whose bones are literally black in colour. The bird's skin and feathers, too, are black. "Oh.gol.gye," the chicken's name in Korean language (or Gallus-Gallus Domesticus - its Latin classification), is a native of the Korean region of Asia, and has been bred and eaten for medicinal purposes for over two-thousand years. It is noted in ancient Chinese medicine books as "having virtues of health fit for royalty," and so, it was served to Kings in the form of soup in late winters-early springs as a "Noble Drug." The medicinal 'virtues' of the bird's meat is said to produce bodily strength, help prevent strokes by thinning the blood, aid in the cure of pleaurisy and neurosis, and add protein to nursing mothers' milk.

Black Bone Chickens are raised in the central and southern regions of Korea but not in any large quantity. They are raised primarily for the quality and nutritional value of their meat, thus they are more expensive compared to their lesser relatives - the common chicken.

The taste of Black Bone Chicken, at least to this traveller, is similar to that of the everyday 'backyard' bird, but somewhat stronger in flavor. Perhaps because it is often prepared with ginseng and other distinctly tasting medicinal roots and herbs. As for the recipe for the soup, there are as many as there are cooks preparing the dish, and I am sure that any one of the recipes is as tasty and nutritious as any other recipe.

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Tree-Water, or "Goh.lo.swae.mool" in Korean, is the sap of the Mono Aceracae, known in everyday English as the Painted Maple. From late February to late March in the mountains of korea, the cold nights and warm days produce a flowing sap that is high in sugar, iron, maganesium, maganese and vitamins A,B, & C. The liquid that is tapped from the trees is slightly translucent in clarity and somewhat sweet and acidic in taste. The legacy and legends of Tree-Water in Korea go back over one-thousand years, with its medicinal values claimed to be good for healing wounds, purging the stomach and intestines of unwanted bacteria, and for fighting diabetes, neuralgia and arthritis. The down side of this 'healthy' drink, however, is that it must be consumed in very large quantities and at one time in order to 'work its magic.'

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Cress, or 'Mi.nar.li," the Korean word, is not a true watercress as is known in the west. 'Korean Cress' is more related to the parsley family of plants, in which it gets its other nomenclature - 'Japanese Parsley.' Some translations of the word 'Minarli' refer to the plant as "Dropwort," although it is not truely a dropwort plant either. But regardless of name, Korean Cress grows with the same prolificacy and manner as its western cousin, and in the spring of the year around Korea it can be found in abundance, as throughout the winter months it is grown in specially built flooded greenhouses and sheltered ponds.

Minarli is said to be good for stabilizing blood pressure and for "cooling-down" the liver (regulating liver functions). The savory edible leaves and stems of the plant are used in flavoring soups and stews, and in salads with other nourishing greens. It is also simply eaten as is, wrapped around a small piece of grilled meat. Minarli is readily found in supermarkets during the spring and summer months, and in abundance during that same time at roadside stands along the countryside and at traditional street markets.

So, if you happen to be in Korea this spring -or any other spring for that matter - rejuvenate your wintered body with a healthy dose of Gohloswaemool, and after your system has been 'purged,' sit down to a steaming bowl of Black Bone Chicken Soup with a Minarli salad on the side. Your body just might thank you.

Photos: whale meat in Korea

rogerinkorea — Tue, 25 Feb 2014 18:11:00 GMT

photos of whale museum and whale meat

WHALE HO! in JANG.SAENG.PO

rogerinkorea — Tue, 25 Feb 2014 17:06:00 GMT

I write this journal entry not to elicit any ethical, moral or environmental debate over the business of whaling and/or the practice of eating whale meat. I am merely writing this piece to inform travellers that the culinary tradition of eating whale meat in Korea can still be found in various pockets of society throughout the country.

While it is true that the practice of eating whale meat has lost popularity in recent times ( mostly among the younger generations), it is also true that many middle-age and older Koreans still enjoy the custom. According to the Greenpeace environmental organization there are about fifty "registered" whale meat restuarants doing business in South Korea. The organization also claims that Koreans consume 150 tons of whale meat annually (although, I'm not sure of the accuracy of these reports). But it is accurate to report that many Korean people, including some in government, want to revise the business of whaling in Korea, albeit under "sustainable fishing" guidelines (The Korea Times Newspaper).

In the country's Southeastern region, in the large industrial city of Ulsan, the modern-day port of Jangsaengpo was once, historically and economically, an important whaling center. But today, since whaling was abolished in Korea in 1988, the site along the port's quay that used to be the key whaling station and processing plant, is now the Ulsan Whale Museum and Marine Research Center. With this in mind, I thought it reasonable to visit Jangsaengpo to learn something about the history and business of whaling in Ulsan, and I thought it reasonable also to sample some whale meat to better understand why there is a desire among many Korean people to keep the tradition of eating whale meat alive. So, one balmy saturday I set out to the old neighborhood to visit the whale museum and take in a lunch at one of the many whale meat restaurants that line the main street of the old harbour front, there.

The Ulsan Whale Museum is an architecturally ultra-modern designed structure standing three stories tall, with exhibition floors, education facilities, a library and a gift shop. It also has an outdoor deck that connects to a restored whaling vessel that visitors can walk about on in order to get a feel of what it is like to live and work aboard such a ship. There are two large buildings next to the museum where marine research is collected and conducted.

The exhibitions in the museum take guests from pre-historic times and early methods of whaling, to present times and whale conservation and ecological preservation practices. The exhibits open with a replica of "Petroglyph" rock carvings produced by pre-historic people who lived hunting, gathering and fishing in a valley region just west of today's Ulsan City over 3,000 years ago. The rock carvings show how those early Koreans hunted tigers, bears, deer and other smaller game, and how they fished for dolphins, sharks and various types of whlaes that inhabited the waters around the Korean peninsula. Korea boasts archeological findings that record people hunting and fishing around the peninsula as early as 5,000 BCE. The closing exhibit at the museum displays a 'mockup' of the inside of the whaling station that used to stand on that same spot, which depicts, with life-size mannequins, the various stages of "trying" (cutting, boiling and preserving) the whale's meat.

As for the business of dining on whale meat, travellers can find as many different tastes, textures and tinges of colour in whale meat as there are whales in the seas. Whale meat (goh.lae.goh.gi [in Korean]) is quite expensive in restaurants, so I opted to travel to Ulsan's Agricultural and Fisheries Wholesale Market where several vendors operate small lunch stalls that sell the meat at reasonable prices. There, I purchased a "set" of whale meat that consisted of a good-size portion of thinly sliced whale meat pieces, several cloves of raw garlic, slices of raw onion, a few hot peppers and a cold bottle of local beer for about twenty U.S. dollars.

The meat that I ate from the set that I purchased was the colour and texture of roasted beef. There was a tinge of reddish-brown flowing veinly through the meat, and it had not much of any strong aroma or oily smell that I expected it would have. The flavors of the meat were not strong, either. But some whale meat, I am told, is quite strong in flavor, oiliness and aroma. The type of meat I was eating I cannot say for sure as to what kind of whale it came from, as the woman operating the stall where I ate did not ( or did not want to) understand my question about the species of whale she was selling - But that is another story.

All in all, I must say that I quite enjoyed the meat that I was eating, but I also must say that I am not sure that the pleasing taste or the nutritional value of eating whale meat justifies the hunting of creature that are known to be "endangered" species. However, the decision to justify or not to justify the hunting and eating of whales I will leave to the readers of this journal entry and the International Whaling Commision.

Photos: yungduk daegae

rogerinkorea — Mon, 24 Feb 2014 20:57:00 GMT

photos of ganggu harbour

AWAY FROM THE TOURIST TRAILS: EATING 'YUNGDUK DAEGAE' ALONG kOREA'S EAST COAST

rogerinkorea — Mon, 24 Feb 2014 12:20:00 GMT

They come from the cold, deep waters of the North Pacific along Russia and Korea's eastern coastlines. They are big in size and plentiful in numbers during the winter months of January and February when it is a custom of many Korean people to seek out these delectable tasting crustaceans, as it is believed that those who eat Yungduk Daegae around the time of Lunar New Year (end of Jan., beginning of Feb.) will have good fortune, a bounty of physical stamina and a good dose of excellent health throughout the remainder of the year.

The chemical compounds Taurine (Tauracholic Acid) and Chiosan (Chitin), found abundantly in snow crab, are understood to break down cholesterol, absorb heavy metals and clean the liver, thus 'purifying' the body, giving it a fresh start for the new year. If travellers go along Highway 7 in the Northeast corridor of South Korea's Yungduk County, they will see very large signs and billboards boasting oversized pictures and images of giant spidery-like, orange colored snow crabs. The signs are there to let people know that they are in the snow crab 'capital' of the country, and all along that stretch of raod there are many claims by many restaurants and seaside resorts boasting that their crabs are "the real thing - the best" they'll try to sell you. But "Buyer Beware" in that as many 'Best' claims that there are, there are just as many disappointments.

The 'Best' - the freshest, largest and fullest (most full of succulent meat) crabs are found just south of the township of Yungduk proper around Samsahaesang and its Ganggu Harbour, where the crabs are off-loaded right from the commercial trawlers that operate out of that port. It is also that the crabs sold along the streets and in the restaurants at the harbour, because of their freshness, are said to be the only crabs to carry the necessary "Karma" needed to deliver the New Year prophecy of good health and fortune true.

Ganggu Harbour is a bustling place during the winter months. It is there that travellers can buy, trade or haggle prices for crabs, fish, squid, octopus, and critters they have probably never seen before. The streets around the harbour (there are only a few) are narrow and raucously alive with 'ajuma' (middle-age women) hucksters and wholesale merchants trying to convince buyers to do business with only them. As for choosing a restaurant to eat in, do use some discretion. Even though most of them will charge the same price (daily prices are usually fixed by a market standard, and, of course, supply and demand), ask at several different places before stepping into one. And be sure that the price is agreed upon before sitting down to eat.

As for the crabs, the eating is an epicurean delight. Daegae meat is sweet, tender, firm in texture, and moist. Unlike many Korean foods, Daegae is not accompanied with any peppery sauces or fiery condiments. It is simply what it is - fresh, plainly steamed in its own salt-water juices with no additives or preservatives, an all natural healthy food. After steaming, the crabs are brought to the table and placed upside down so that all the juices and fat collect in the shells of the crab's body. After openng the crab (pulling it carefully away from its outer shell so as to retain the juices and fat) you can "dig in," eating the meat anyway you desire, for Daegae is a hands-on, 'finger-lickin' good time fun food to eat. Eating Daegae is a social pleasure that requires no formality and little dining etiquette, where relaxed manners around the table always summons light hearted conversation and satisfied smiles. When finished eating the crab's meat, the host will mix steamed rice, dried seaweed, and a coupe of splashes of sesame oil and chopped scalions into the upside down shell full of the crab's juices and fat. With a spoon for scooping out this delicious compliment to the crab, sit back and savor this wonderful treat. Bon Appetit or as they say in Korea: MAN.EUM.GUT.DU.SAE.YO or MAN.HEE.DU.SAE.YO!

Photos: Passport & Plate - Korean crab & shrimp bean paste stew

rogerinkorea — Mon, 17 Feb 2014 15:00:00 GMT

Ingredients
ingredients for "Got Gae-Sae woo Deonjang JJigae
Korean Crab & Shrimp Bean Paste Stew
water (preferably non-chlorinated
three strands of dried black seaweed [about 100 grams]
5 small anchovy-dried
2 heaping tablespoons of Deonjang (Bean Paste)*
4 shiitake mushrooms (cut into quarters)
1 welsh onion & 1 yellow onion
1 Korean radish sliced in random cuts (approx.200 grams)**
1 small white potato coarsely sliced - optional
1 small longneck squash sliced into rings and then halved
5 medium size shrimp (in their shells)
3 blue crabs-outer shells removed and bodies halved
Diced Korean hot peppers (or Mexican jalapenos - to taste)
1 small block of tofu
2 teaspoons of minced garlic
*NOTE: Deonjang is the Korean word for fermented soybean. JJigae is the Korean term for stew. Traditional Deonjang is made from a lengthy process of fermenting soybeans in sea-salt [for up to one year]. The "paste" is then partially dried and formed into blocks which are wrapped in ropes of rice straw and hung on racks to "cure" in the dry autumn-early winter air. The dried Deonjang can be stored for very long periods of time. To use, cooks simply break-off desired pieces to be rehydrated for the recipe they are preparing.
These days, however, commercial Deonjang is readily available in Asian markets, but it varies in texture, taste and color. Although it is different from the traditional Deonjang, commercial Deonjang is use throughout the restaurant industry and in many hoe kitchens due to its convenience and milder, less pungent flavor.
**Note 2: Do not substitute round, red radish for Korean radish, as they are not the same. Korean radish can be found in most supermarkets under the name "Diakon."

How to prepare this recipe
Process for Preparing
Korean Crab and Shrimp Bean Paste Stew
1. In an earthen or enamel pot, add water to about 3/4/level and then put in the anchovies and seaweed. Bring to boil then simmer for about 10 minutes.
2. Remove anchovies and seaweed with a strainer and discard.(if you have pet cats, they will love this mixed in with their food-after it cools, of course).
3. Return water to a medium simmer.
4. Add the "bean paste," stirring until dissolved.
5. Put in the Korean 'Daikon' radish slices first as they require a longer time to soften (add coarsely cut potato if using in recipe).
6. Checking to make sure the radish [and potato if added] are beginning to soften, add the quartered mushrooms and cut squash.
7. Cut the hot peppers in slivers, diagonally along the peppers' lengths. Remember - the closer you cut to the stem of the pepper, the hotter the taste will be. CUT WISELY!
8. Slice the Welsh Onion into small rings, chopping the yellow onion coarsely and add them to the pot.
9. slice the tofu into cubes, placing them gently into the stew so they do not break apart.
10. Wash and add the shrimp to the stew but do not remove their shells. This prevents them from curling up into something unrecognizable during the cooking process. It also enhances the visual aesthetics of the dish when presented at table side.
11. Remove outer shells from the blue crabs, washing the crabs carefully. After breaking the bodies in halves (keeping legs and claws intact) add them to the stew.
12. Add garlic (to taste) and simmer the stew for about 30 minutes at medium heat.
**This dish is always served with bowls of steamed Korean rice.
Now gather up some people and serve them this long-standing traditional Korean dish and - "MANI DU SHIP SHI YO" {ENJOY YOUR MEAL}

The story behind this recipe
GOT GAE-SAE WOO DEONJANG JJIGAE
(Korean Crab and Shrimp Bean Paste Stew)
Pronounced /dwen jahng chi gae/, I learned of 'bean paste stew' my first full day in Korea eighteen years ago, when my Korean host family introduced me to the dish at their breakfast table. Years later from my Korean wife I learned to make Bean Paste (deonjang) in its traditional measure, a lengthy culinary procedure that requires the cultivation, harvesting and preparation of soybeans for the yearlong fermentation and curing process that makes up the true essence of Bean Paste Stew.
As I learned to make Deonjang and to prepare Bean Paste Stew, I also learned a deep respect for the hard toiling people of the Korean countryside who, through their devotion to tradition and their rooted knowledge of culinary understanding, have taken, down through the generations, the necessary patience and labor to keep this heartwarming and delectable dish a part of the Korean cuisine.
By custom, Bean Paste Stew is served as a communal food with bowls of steamed rice and is to be shared by those at the table from the same pot. It's a dish prepared from the love of good food and the warmth of building friendships, thus, whenever I eat "JJigae," I still remember that first day in the country and that lovely host family who introduced me to this small part of Korean culinary history.
It is with that memory and my respect for those who taught me the means of making deonjang and bean paste stew, and those who tirelessly keep the traditional methods of making Korean foods alive, that I have come to believe that if you gather up some strangers and set forth a hearty bowl of Bean Paste Stew, by the time you and those strangers have finished eating, you will have made some new friends, for Deonjang JJigae is always known to bring to a table, pleasant smiles and kind conversation.