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.

Fall Gnocchi with Cabbage, Apples, and Chorizo

Dear Michelle,

You know, the first time I remember having madeleines was when you sent them to me my first year in college. I was so impressed! Can't wait to try this recipe.

I have been on a bit of a gnocchi craze lately. Ever since I lived in Florence, packaged gnocchi have never been the same for me. Compared to the puffy little potato pillows they have there (which are not really that hard to make from scratch, but time-consuming), store-bought gnocchi seemed so dry and heavy. That is, until I recently saw Jacques Pepin's technique, on a public television rerun of one of More Fast Food My Way. It seemed so obvious; instead of boiling them, you saute them in fat, then cover almost all the way with water and let simmer till they are almost dry. They are still a whole different thing than Florentine gnocchi, but they deserve a respect all their own. They get a little crispy and golden on the outside, and soft and tender on the inside, and they are perfect for this cold weather when you want something substantial.


Jeff and I tried a chorizo taco at our favorite Mexican restaurant (this place is seriously good, and easy on the wallet. Try the tongue taco. For the squeamish, there are lots of terrific normal tacos, and all sorts of other delightful things), and loved it. When we saw some chorizo at a local bodega, he wanted me to try cooking something with it. I think that the fresh version might be better in this dish; I imagine it would fall apart instead of staying in chunks, but those were perfectly fine. Like usual, it was a winning suggestion on his part. Not only does the sausage ooze a bright orange fat when it is cooked, and I do love anything that intensely colorful, but the flavor is amazing. It is smoky and peppery from the paprika, and crunchy and delicious like anything made from the fatty parts of a pig tends to be. Add in soft gnocchi, silky sauteed cabbage, and just-cooked apples, and you've got a winner of a cool-weather meal.



Fall Gnocchi with Cabbage, Apple, and Chorizo

1/2 link chorizo, casing removed, diced (about a 1/2 cup)
1/2 package pre-made gnocchi
1/4-1/2 small green cabbage, core removed, cut in thin ribbons
1 apple
bacon fat and/or olive oil
butter
1/4 cup chicken stock (optional)
splash beer (optional)
water
splash apple cider vinegar
salt and pepper
some sort of cheese to grate on top (optional, and we used aged Gouda)


Add 1T fat and/or oil to large, heated frying pan. Add chorizo and cook, stirring, till crispy and just browned. Remove, leaving fat in pan. Add gnocchi, and cook, stirring occasionally, till crispy and lightly browned (they will turn orange from chorizo fat, or I'd say till golden). Add cabbage and saute till mostly wilted. Add stock, beer, and water, or just water, till gnocchi and cabbage is 3/4 covered. Turn down to slow simmer, cover, and let soak up water for about 10 minutes, or until almost dry. Add apples. Add a splash of vinegar and pepper to taste. Stir in chorizo. Add salt to taste, and stir in 1T of butter. Plate and grate cheese on top if using.