“Looking for another chance
For someone else to be
Looking for another chance
To ride into the sun.”

— Lou Reed

I was stirring a cup of roughly chopped kimchi into a pan of sauteeing onions the other night when Lou Reed's "Ride Into the Sun" came blasting through the kitchen speakers. I couldn't remember the last time I had heard that song, but just as I was thinking this, a feeling of joy surged through me. I paused, holding my wooden spoon in mid-air.

It's always surprising when a strong emotion shows up unexpectedly during an otherwise mundane moment. You're just doing what you do, minding your own business. In my case, I was making dinner by myself while everyone else in the house was happily engaged in other activities.

The song itself reminded me of being young, discovering Lou Reed's music for the first time in the form of The Velvet Underground. I remembered listening to it at the age of fourteen and feeling then that somehow the world was suddenly different, I was different, and that my life would never be the same again. The things he wrote about! Drug use, addicts, Holly from Miami F-L-A who "plucked her eyebrows on the way/shaved her legs and then he was a she" -- people who lived on the margins of the margins of society. I was a Chinatown- and Chinese Baptist Church-raised girl, but somehow he spoke to me.

Fourteen. It feels so profound and real, whatever you're feeling at that age. You're alive in a way that no one else is. You're convinced of this undeniable fact, certain that you are connected to the deepest, truest parts of yourself. You hear your favorite song, or one that has those lyrics that mean something, and you are rapt as you suddenly feel altered yet again...and forever. I made such feelings known to the world by way of the canvas bookbag I carried everywhere; I'd painted Lou Reed's face on it so that it covered the entire front flap. Stomped around in my Doc Martens.

Perhaps that's what it was, the feeling that had appeared when I was tossing some kimchi into a frying pan that particular night: a deep sense of aliveness. It was as if a gap had opened up in the everyday which allowed the slender glimmer of another time to slide back into my momentary existence, just like that, before disappearing again. Such moments, nearly forgotten gifts of the past.

But I started off talking about kimchi and cooking, didn't I? Well, let's talk about it then, shall we? I've posted about kimchi mac n' cheese and my family's kimchi pasta, but I've never posted an actual kimchi recipe. Well, that's being remedied here today.

If you're not very familiar with kimchi, it is a staple of the Korean diet, which Lauryn Chun of Mother-In-Law Kimchi describes as "more than one type of recipe; it is one of the most versatile pickling techniques." Kimchi can be made using a wide range of vegetables, from napa cabbage and chives to bok choy and even butternut squash. Here in the West, the type we most often see is napa cabbage or daikon mixed with a seasoning paste containing salted shrimp or fish and red chili flakes.

This version makes a smallish amount, which is a good place to begin, is very easy and adds just the right bit of joy and aliveness to my life these days. Here it is, along with a bit of Lou Reed.

Everyday Kimchi (Napa Cabbage and Daikon Radish)

Makes 3 pints

Adapted from The Kimchi Cookbook.

Tips: Use glass or ceramic bowls and containers for mixing and storing. Pack your vegetables very tightly. Keep out of sunlight. Resist the temptation to open the jar when you are initially fermenting this at room temperature. Opening it up will introduce oxygen which can promote the growth of mold. You'll be able to see some bubbling up, which means that things are happening. Also, note that the ambient temperature will affect the fermentation rate. Somewhere in the 65°F to 70°F range is ideal. If it's cooler than that, it will take slightly longer and if it is warmer it will ferment faster. At Momofuku, they put their kimchi straight into the refrigerator to ferment rather than leaving it at room temperature, so that's an option too. Just know that the fermentation process will take longer.

Ingredients
For the initial vegetable brine:
1 medium head napa cabbage (about 2-3 pounds), cut into 1 1/2" squares
1 medium daikon radish, cut in half lengthwise then sliced into pieces 1/8" thick
1/4 cup kosher salt

For the seasoning paste:
1/4 cup thinly sliced yellow onion
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 teaspoon peeled, finely grated ginger
2 tablespoons anchovy sauce, such as Red Boat
1/2 small apple, peeled and grated
1/4 cup Korean chili pepper flakes (gochugaru)

2 green onions, green parts only, cut into 2-inch pieces
2 tablespoons water

Instructions
Set aside three clean glass pint jars. Mason jars work well.

Combine the cabbage and daikon with the salt in a large bowl. Set aside aside for about an hour. Drain the liquid. Rinse the vegetables to remove any residual salt. Drain in a colander for about 20 minutes. Alternatively, place the veggies in a salad spinner to remove extra water.

In a mini-chopper or blender pulse together yellow onion, garlic, ginger, anchovy sauce and apple. A paste will form. Transfer it to a bowl and add the chili pepper flakes, combining well. Allow mixture to sit for at least 15 minutes so that the flavors can come together.

In a large bowl, mix together seasoning paste, vegetables and green onions. Combine thoroughly, flipping the vegetables and seasoning paste around so that the paste is evenly distributed throughout. Pack as tightly as you can into the clean jars. Add the water to the bowl and swirl it around to collect any remaining seasoning paste. Pour this into the packed jars, dividing evenly. Cover the jars tightly. Place a tray or plates under the jars. The vegetables will expand as they ferment, which may cause an overflow of liquid.

From here, you can let the jars sit at room temperature for about three days before placing into the refrigerator. Or, place them directly into the refrigerator for a slower and longer fermentation process. Your kimchi can be eaten beginning in about 7 days if initially left at room temperature. I like it best at about 14 days. It's alive and will continue to age and ferment, changing in taste and texture. This is best eaten within 6 months.

From his 1972 album Lou Reed.

Everyone has their ways to stay balanced, sane or to even feel truly alive. Mine is to make things.

Over the years, I've developed the belief that it's crucial to make at least one thing a day. It can be anything. A pie, a blog post, a tiny paper flag on a toothpick (we've been making a lot of these for Kingston's mini-race tracks).

You can even do as my friend Rowan does, which is to make piles of leaves and twigs and other organic detritus to fend off the woods and hold the perimeter of her five-acre property. It's her ongoing art project. The piles somehow eventually dwindle down then disappear completely. But where do they go? We can only wonder.

As humans, we're just meant to make things. It's the so-called "creative impulse." The stubborn pushing back against mortality. It's the effort that matters more than any actual final product. To care enough, as the poet Dylan Thomas put it, to "Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

I've been doing my share of this lately and happily making plenty of things. One of them happens to be kombucha, a slightly fizzy, fermented tea that may have its origins dating back centuries, to Asia.

Recently, our family friend, Ralph, gave me a baby SCOBY (AKA a "symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast") birthed from the "mother" of his continuous-brew kombucha. I took it gratefully and following his instructions, managed to turn it into a sweet and tart, living fermented product.

I don't know about you, but for me, there is nothing that gives me more joy - that pure, kid-like glee - than making something out of what seems like not that much of anything. In this case, a few teaspoons of tea, sugar, water, and a floppy white alien being-thing with yellowish strands hanging down from the edges of it.

"That stuff's yeast," Ralph said, smiling at me.

Maybe it's something like when as a kid you would take some clay or sand and water, some paint or crayons, fling it around, and vóila! The stuff was transformed into a new universe filled with strange creatures or maybe just every kind of dog or cat or candy that you ever wanted.

Remember those moments?

There's something especially magical about shoving an adult-version of clay and water, in this case, my gallon-size jar of sweet tea and SCOBY into a warmish, dark corner for 10 days knowing that it will become totally altered. I keep trying to forget about it. Meanwhile, I keep wishing I could shrink myself down to nano particle size in order to jump in, swim around and see what's really going on in that brew of mine.

I know it's not possible. But still.

Making stuff yourself is a big part of the culture up here where we live. It's part of why I like it so much. Turn in any direction and you'll run into makers and producers of everything from goat cheese and Ethiopian Doro Wat to "new" clothing made from old.

We have brewers of all sorts of things. Yes, there's mead, kombucha and craft distillers of eau de vie, vodka and gin, but beer is especially big one here. In fact, for a town of our size we have our more-than-fair share of two things: microbreweries and bike shops.

It seems that most of the people I know here in town have a crock or mason jar of some sort of living fermented thing going on in the hidden recesses of their homes. Now that I've gotten to know kombucha-making, I can understand why.

The stuff is alive, feeding on the sugar added to the brew. It's full of organic acids and B vitamins. Homebrew also changes from batch to batch, according to a lot of different factors (length of fermentation, type of tea used, flavor additions during a second fermentation) so that it can come out slightly different each time. It's fully satisfying project for the type of person who likes to make things.

I encourage you to try this one out and play around with the flavors and brew times. Watch those SCOBYs multiply. I'll admit that it can feel a little freaky. After all, it's alive!

A Basic Ginger Kombucha (Batch Method)
This is the version I ended up with after guidance from Ralph and Kombucha Kamp. You can make kombucha from black or green tea. The green tea offers a cleaner, lighter taste, which I prefer.

Makes 1 gallon, from which you'll save your new SCOBY and 1 cup starter liquid.

Ingredients
4 organic green or black tea bags (or use 4 teaspoons loose green tea as I did)
1 cup organic evaporated cane sugar, plus extra for the flavoring stage
Filtered, non-chlorinated water
1 healthy SCOBY plus 1 cup starter liquid*
1 gallon brewing vessel made of glass or ceramic
A cloth cover or coffee filter
A rubber band

A few inches of fresh ginger, cut into small pieces
A second bottle, such as a large growler or glass bottles with flip tops

Instructions
Before you begin, make sure everything is clean - any utensils, the area you're working in, and of course your brewing vessel and bottles. Very important: Clean only using hot water and/or vinegar. Soap can introduce unwanted bacteria or mold into your brew.

Place tea in a tea pot. Bring 4 cups of water to a boil. Pour water over the tea and allow to steep for 5 minutes. Add sugar and stir to dissolve. Pour the hot, sweet tea into your brewing vessel (I used a 1 gallon glass jar) then add enough cold water to fill the container about 2 inches short of the top.

Allow liquid to cool to at least body temperature or cooler. Place SCOBY into the liquid. It will sink toward the bottom, but will eventually rise to the top. (For my first batch, this took a full 7 days.) Cover the top of your brewing vessel and secure the cover using a rubber band. Place your brew in a dark place that isn't too cool and where air can circulate.

Allow to ferment, undisturbed for 7-10 days. After that time, scoop a bit off the top (leaving the SCOBY alone) to taste. If it seems too sweet, allow it to ferment another day or too. If it is too tart for your taste, keep this in mind for the next batch and ferment for a shorter period next time.

Flavoring your kombucha:
Decant kombucha into clean bottles using either a funnel or a large measuring cup. Push pieces of ginger into the bottleneck. Put as much as you'd like. Add 1/2 teaspoon of sugar. This will provide a bit of extra "food" for the good bacteria and yeast in the brew to feed on, which promotes carbonation. If you want even more carbonation, add a bit more sugar.

Allow your flavored kombucha to continue fermenting for another 3-5 days. Burp the bottles at least once each day to avoid explosions. Yes, the carbonation can get that strong! At the time of your choosing, start enjoying your delicious fermented drink.

To make a new batch, follow these steps all over again.

*Note: Always use a SCOBY that is fresh and has never been refrigerated or dehydrated if you want optimal results. Starter liquid is the liquid from the batch of kombucha from which your SCOBY originated.