Post 110: Collaboration with Whisks & Ruffles - Pork Belly, Part 2

In my previous post, I shared the first part of my collaboration with Angelina Ang Lee of Whisks & Ruffles.  This post will continue with more pork belly deliciousness.  Rather than braising this time, I grilled some thinner cuts of the pork belly.  And so continues the life of an inner fatty...

I used thin cuts of pork belly strips with beautiful fat on the trim.  The pork belly was marinated with a mixture of gochujang (Korean hot pepper paste), a bit of soy, sesame oil, chopped perilla (sesame seed leaves also known as shiso), and sesame seeds.  I added some ground black pepper too, but salt is not needed since the gochujang and soy sauce provide enough of that saltiness.

I faux grilled the pork belly using a Korean stone wok, which works great because it heats up quickly and retains the heat even after the stove is turned off.  The strips were cooked at medium-high heat.  The temperature must be hot enough for the fat to sizzle.  Must... hear... sizzle! Like... cooking bacon! Mmmmm... Flip the meat once only, and cook until it's brown and crisp on both sides.  If the heat is high enough, the meat will be fully cooked through because the cuts are not very thick.

Tiffany, my Chinese-American from Taiwan but also raised in Korea friend, came over for a taste test.  We ate the pork belly wrapped with fresh perilla leaves, raw sliced garlic, jalapeños, and diagonally cut scallions (see instructional clip by yours truly).  We also had sides of kimchi, yellow pickled daikon, and kimbap (Korean sushi or rice rolls) from the supermarket.  See Angelina's post on homemade kimbap to prepare your own.

I have been cutting down on some carbs lately, but the grilled pork belly would also work really well with steamed rice.  No worries, I could never cut carbs out entirely, but for now, meat and greens are good enough for me.  If the jalapeños aren't spicy enough for your taste, an extra dash of Sriracha hot sauce also helps add a spicy yet sweet flavor to your dish.  Or try Angelina's method, which is to add dried hot peppers... Indonesian style. 

Check out what Angelina came up with in the Lee kitchen using pork belly two ways.  Her double recipe storm includes a pork belly braised low and slow, which looks absolutely mouth watering.  Her second recipe is something that her mom used to make in Indonesia called babi kecap, a simmered stew of pork belly, tofu, and hard boiled eggs.  Ah, Mom's home cooking... my mouth is literally drooling right now...

Great job, Angelina.  I truly enjoyed our coast-to-coast collaboration.  Let's do it again soon! Until the next collaboration, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20130221

Post 46.2: Another Pit-stop at Chego (West LA: Palms)

A month ago I barely knew about this place.  In fact, I didn't even know that Palms existed. 

M1: You live where?
M2: Palms
M1: Where is that?
M2: I don't know... somewhere in West LA..
M1: I'll Google map it.

I now identify Palms by "where Chego is."

So Palms, I'm back to pick up M2... which means Chego, I'm back for the buttered kimchi chow and chubby pork belly.  Bring em out, bring em out!

M1 and M2 dropped by on the way to LAX, and we planned to get some take-out, but our flight was delayed until after midnight (good job, Southwest), which means we had plenty of time to finish our food.  And thank goodness for the extra time... those were big bowls of food.

The buttered kimchi chow is a bed of rice... no, a hilltop of rice... topped off with red chili tofu, edamame, chopped sesame seed leaves, bits of chicharrones, and a fried egg.  The taste of the first bite reminded me of an already-mixed soon tofu with rice.  The rice is buttery rich, and when it's mixed with the creaminess of the runny egg yolk, there is an allusion to the possibility of Korean risotto.  What is made smooth from the buttered rice and egg yolk is contrasted by the pop of kimchi, the bumps of edamame, and the vein-textured gaenip... but perhaps not enough.  I kept picking the kimchi out just to get a bit more contrast in flavor and texture.  Luckily I found what I wanted in texture and flavor contrast in the chubby pork belly.

The chubby pork belly is exactly what the title says it is.  Plump, fatty, flavorful pork belly in all its juicy, lipidic glory.  Mmmmm... and all of that delicious fatty pork looks like it's sprouting from a bed of rice.  Implanted in the rice are chopped water spinach (ong choy), peanuts, and pickled watermelon radishes.  The triple combo of ong choy, peanuts, and pickled radishes in the pork belly bowl works better than the kimchi chow's triple combo of kimchi, edamame and gaenip.  The contrasting textures and flavors are more apparent, which helps maintain interest and curiosity in digging deeper into the big bowl of food.  This one... I like.  Yum.

On my first pit-stop to Chego, I picked up two items from the End section of the menu... on this pit-stop I tasted two items from the Middle section of the menu.  Perhaps the next pit-stop in Palms will yield two items from the Beginning... the ooey gooey fries and 3PM meatballs sound promising.

Until the next pit-stop, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110225

Post 35: Finishing a Very Korean September with Gamjatang (LA: Koreatown)

Tick... pop... crack.  

As I continued to chew I wondered what was making the firecracker sensation in my mouth...

M: "What are those?"
K: "Sesame seeds."
M: "No man, they're black.  I think those are poppy seeds."
G: "Dude, my co-worker failed a drug test 'cuz she had a poppy seed bagel..."
M: "No way... that's an insignificant..."
K: "I'm telling you... they're sesame seeds"
A: "Wait.  What's wrong with poppy seeds?"
M: "Opium."
J: "What?"

The ticking, popping, and cracking black seeds were actually ground and toasted sesame seeds.  Grinding them up and toasting the seeds cause them to look round and black, allowing them to mask as poppy seeds.  They were floating around happily amongst white sesame seeds and bright green sesame seed (perilla) leaves in a deep red soup brewed from the bones of the pig's spine.  In addition to the tender, still-on-the-bone pork, the many variations of sesame seed, chunks of starchy potato were lodged at the bottom of the steel hot pot.  Hmmmm... so this is gamjatang (감자탕).

Kimmy, my token Korean friend from high school, volunteered to be our Korean food hostess for the weekend.  We call her Kimmy (her real name is Grace Kim) to highlight her Korean-ness.  Forget the fact that we have a million friends named Grace... it's her Korean-ness that allows us to call her Kimmy.  But I digress.  Kimmy, our Korean cuisine hostess extraordinaire, led us to Gam Ja Gol in Koreatown where she was about to show us some true blood Korean food... the non-BBQ, non-tofu, non-soju type of true blood Korean food.

Kimmy introduced us gamjatang, a savory stew made with the bones of a pig's spine, the earthy potatoes, and an abundance of enticing and somewhat exotic leaves of the sesame seed.  The soup was deep red.  Deep, deep red.  But it wasn't insanely spicy.  Just enough to cause droplets of perspiration to form on foreheads around the table.

In between bites of the soft pork, slurps of the savory stew, and glances at the banchan spread, I looked up every so often to ask Kimmy a question or two about the Korean food that we were having.  Gamjatang, translated literally, means potato (gamja) soup (tang), but Kimmy warned, "it's not really about the potato..."

Apparently not.  It was all about the soft and tender meat... it was about the savory and addicting soup... it was all about the fragrance of the perilla leaves... it was all about the way the gamjatang was poured into my bowl with heart, soul, and pride in the Korean culture.  It was about the complete destruction of a pig's spine... the bones looked as if they were leftover from a Velociraptor's meal.  And it was all about the second course of the meal...

As we the gamjatang slowly dwindled to its last remaining drops, the server arrived to wisp away the steel hot pot... only to refill it with white rice, chopped kimchi, and an assortment of ingredients.  I followed the sounds of the sizzle and crackle to the corner of the restaurant where it was cooking.  And as I peered into the popping pot, the server exclaimed from behind me, "chao fan!"

Bewildered, I spun around.  The supposedly Korean server used Mandarin to tell me that it was fried rice.  I didn't quite know just what to say.... or even what language to respond in.  So I just sat back down at the table, which is when Kimmy informed me, "she," pointing at the server, "told me that you looked Chinese."

I found out later that she was ethnically Korean but was born in northeastern China, so she learned to speak Mandarin growing up.  I guess that's where she learned to tell non-Koreans apart from ethnic Koreans.

But does that mean I like fried rice? Well, I sure as hell enjoyed this one.  In the little time it took to cook the fried rice, the grains of white rice had absorbed the remaining gamjatang... it was bursting with spicy and savory flavors... only a hint of which came from kimchi.  I was absolutely stuffed, and there was not a single section of spine left for us to pick at.  But I kept wanting more.  

The gamjatang rice was almost a drug.  If I had to take this drug every 8 hours for a course of 2 weeks (with food), I wouldn't have any problem with it.  In fact, I wouldn't have a problem with gamjatang or the fried rice being an intravenous drug.  Mmmm... this stuff is good.  Shoot it straight into my veins.

The gamjatang was an awesome Korean food experience.  What made it even better was that I learned and tried something I never knew existed.  Kamsamhapnida, Kimmy.  Solid meal.

Until another true blood experience, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 201000926/20101006