Japanese Style Cabbage Pancakes

Dear Devon,

I woke up this morning and realized that I won’t be returning to New York for a long time. I ran to an Asian grocery store because I can’t stand being without kimchi any longer. Three weeks into my stay and I would kill for a Q-tip and a pork laden, umami rich, generously scallioned, steaming bowl of ramen! You would think in a country where pork is the national food, a veritable mascot, ramen would quickly follow. And yes, there are Asian people here. I just don’t know what they are eating or more importantly, where.

I suppose I should be grateful that there is an Asian grocery nearby. In my present state of Asian food withdrawal, this fetid garage that sells Asian-made products was a beacon to a weary sailor. I already commented on the distinctive smells of Barcelona, but this grocery store brings the concept of malodorous stink to an Olympic level. My sense of smell has never been better tested than in the streets and in this case Asian markets of Barcelona. Let’s put it this way, the smell made the fishmongers’ stalls in New York Chinatown smell like the florist.

If that wasn’t enough, I experienced the greatest shock of my entire life in this shop. With my nerves strengthened by the plum sauce in my hand and the friendly company of dried ramen and pho, I approached a shopkeeper to inquire about other necessities. She looked Asian, so I addressed her in Cantonese. She shot me the blank look of incomprehension. My desire to guzzle down an entire bottle of sweet soy milk encouraged me to question her again, this time in Mandarin. Immediately, the same look of utter confusion! I don’t give any pretensions toward fluency in either Cantonese or Mandarin, but I certainly know how to ask, “Where is the soy milk?” Now, I’m sure that the look of incomprehension was on my face. I stumbled to the cashier and hardly notice as he rang up a bottle of soy sauce at 6 euros ($10), the second greatest shock of my life. And no, it’s not the fancy organic kind, it’s not even low sodium (the store doesn’t even carry it).

On a happier note, I did manage to track down my beloved Korean red chili paste at a food stall at the Boqueria market off La Rambla, a modest 2.50 euros. She did not have in stock the bright red chili flakes, but promised to set some aside for me the next week. My plan is to make kimchi. I half dread the visit to the market to inquire about Napa cabbage. Imagine explaining that in Spanish. Do they even know where Napa is? Not to mention, every time I go the market, I leave with my nerves completely shot and the back of my shirt soaked with sweat. The vendors are all extremely friendly. It’s me, I’m extremely anxious, not to mention lost in the metric system (1/2 kilo of ham = about 1 pound, which is now cooling in my fridge). If a kilo sounds like a lot, ½ a kilo is still more than I would probably ever buy at home.

How many import laws would be violated if you FedExed me a bowl of Momofuku ramen and pork belly buns?


Japanese Style Cabbage Pancakes
(makes four pancakes)

1 cup flour
1 cup water
1 tbsp salt
1 egg
¼ head of cabbage, shredded
½ small onion, thinly sliced
1 clove garlic, thinly sliced
1 hot pepper, diced

Spicy Red Pepper Sauce
(makes about 1 cup)

2 tbsp Korean red pepper paste
2 tbsp plum sauce
2 ½ tbsp soy sauce
1 ½ tbsp brown sugar
1 ½ tbsp corn oil
½ tsp sesame oil

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, water, egg, and salt. Carbonated water can be substituted for still water. It gives the pancakes an extra bit of lift, but is by no means necessary. Allow batter to rest for about 15 minutes before using.

Shred cabbage, thinly slice onions, garlic, and hot pepper. Make four separate piles for the cabbage, onions, garlic, and hot pepper. Toss together a quarter of each pile into a separate mixing bowl. This insures an even distribution of each ingredient per pancake.

Bring a medium sized skillet to medium high heat. Add a drop of oil about the size of two quarters into the hot skillet. To the hot oil, add the cabbage and onion mixture. Gently fry for a minute or two, just to get some nice color. Splash in about a quarter cup of water. The water creates a steaming affect and slows down the cooking process. It is very easy to burn the cabbage. When the water has just about evaporated and the cabbage is about transparent, pour in a large ladleful of batter. Using a wooden spatula, fold the batter on to the cabbage to make a circular pancake. Add a drop more oil. When the edges begin to brown and bubble, flip the pancake. Add a bit more oil as needed. The pancake is done when both sides are nicely browned and the pancake has a solid feel.

Serve with a spicy red pepper sauce. Combine the ingredients listed above in a large mixing bowl. Mix together thoroughly. Adjust seasonings to your taste. I prefer my sauce slightly sweet. The sauce is greatly enhanced with the addition of toasted sesame seeds and/or a generous drop of honey.