FatManSeoul

You’ve been told it’s difficult, that it takes years of practice to make perfect, that only select humans known as Ajumas can achieve the zen-like state of flow and oneness with the universe that leads to its creation.
LIES!
Anyone can make kimchi – it’s shockingly easy. And you don’t have to make it in huge quantities, or use much in the way of strange ingredients. Heck, you probably have most of the stuff lying around in your pantry right now (ok, if you keep a Korean pantry – but don’t we all?) And despite what your mother told you, it doesn’t not involve insane amounts of labor and suffering for the culinary arts. Shall we begin?

Start with a head of napa cabbage, and pull off the outer-most leaves. They’re green and bitter and you don’t need them. Now, pretend it’s the French Revolution and you’re Robespierre, mirthfully quartering that royalist cabbage.

Now, take a big, big bowl of cold, clean water and toss in a few tablespoons of salt.

Swish that salt around until it dissolves. Take your cabbage and dunk it in the water. It won’t be enough merely trying to stick the thing under though; take some more of the salt and sprinkle it between the leaves.

There we go! Hold that sucker down! Don’t let ‘em get away!

Who knew kimjang was so violent? Once you’ve salted and drowned your cabbage, you’ll need to put something heavy on top to hold it down so that the entire thing stays submerged. Stick something heavy in a smaller bowl and put the bowl on top of the cabbage unless you’re really bored and standing around for a few hours up to your elbows in saltwater sounds amusing. But how many hours?
Well, it depends. The colder it is the longer it will take. Three or four hours is plenty in the summer, but in the winter it can be as much as eight or ten hours to achieve the desired amount of wilting. Go read a good book, plant a tree, do something for world peace. Make yourself useful.

You’ll know its ready when you can bend the cabbage leaves without them snapping or breaking. Only when you’ve truly broken its spirit can you continue. Drain it for a little bit to take off excess water.

Isn’t it pathetic? Don’t get too caught up in its plight, because the real torture is yet to begin . . .

Make yourself a nice clean workspace and prepare:

• ginger
• garlic
• daikon radish
• onion
• green onion
• fish sauce
• salt
• sugar
• red pepper flakes
• toasted sesame seeds
• and anything else you want to throw in: pear, apple, oysters, salted shrimp, kumquats, dog biscuits . . . go wild! But don’t blame Fatman if it tastes funny. This is your responsibility.

Got it all together?

Good, now its time to start chopping. Take your ginger and garlic and mince like there’s no tomorrow. Fatman supposes you could always just buy the already minced stuff at the grocery story, but that’s cheating.   Mince, baby, mince. Done? Good, now mince that onion!
How much?
Gosh, we don’t know . . . how much would you like? If you like ginger, have a lot of ginger. People afraid of vampires should use lots of garlic. Fatman can’t make all your decisions for you! If you’re adding fruit like pear or apple, you can make that into matchsticks now, too. Don’t relax yet though, because it’s time to tackle the radish. First, slice it into thin rounds.

Now stack the rounds and slice into matchsticks.

Wasn’t that easy? Ok, we’re now ready to rumble.

Take a few heaping spoonfuls of garlic, ginger, onion,, and salt and plop it all in a mixing bowl, which will now be able to fulfill its lifelong dream of being used to mix things, because you’re going to stir it all together. Throw in some sesame seeds. Now, add a few heaping spoonfuls of pepper powder. Don’t be a wuss! Now, add the fish sauce spoonful by spoonful, stirring in between until you get a paste, and finish off with a little bit of sugar.

Get out your gloves, because from here on out it’s getting messy. Throw in your radish sticks and some shreds of green onion, and massage them into the paste.

Feeling cocky now, are we? Ready to rush onto the next step? Well, hold your horses! The ingredients some time to parlay and discuss their next move, so give them at least an hour to congress. Wait until the stuff in the bowl on the right turns into something that looks like the bowl on the left . . .

Go watch a movie, take the dog for a walk, or sit down with the latest issue of Scientific American or Psychology Today and improve your mind for a while. When both you and the mixture have sufficiently relaxed, you’ll be fresh and new and it ought to be gloriously messy and soggy-looking, like this:

Now for the really fun part! Remember this guy?

His time has come! Back on with the prophylactics, it’s about to get interesting. . ..
Open the cabbage so that the first few leaves are flopping down on the plate, and the rest are held high above its poor wee head, as if it were performing some particularly uncomfortable gymnastics or yoga routine. Smear the red gunk all over the limp, pathetic leaves.

Keep spreading gunk between the leaves until the poor sucker has been stuffed to the gills with goo. Make sure you got it into every nook and cranny.

Ready for the last step? Ok, now, all you have left to do is-

OH MY GOD! CTHULHU!!!

Sweet Camille Paglia, who will save us now??? Pick up the Great Old One cabbage and turn it cut side down, but letting two or three of the outermost leaves fall loose. Fold the cabbage in half, grab the loose leaves, and wrap them around the main body of the cabbage.

Voila! The monster has been vanquished! You now have your own perfect-in-every-particular kimchi. Enjoy immediately, or see how long you can leave it in the fridge before it grows legs and heads back to R’lyeh. Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!

Bon Appetite!

Many, many thanks to the wonderful people at Food and Culture Korea for their exceptional instruction and kindness! This post owes all its good parts to them, and any mistakes, mess ups, or ridiculousness is entirely Fatman’s fault.