Snap Pea Fried Rice with Korean Seasoning Paste

If bread is the staff of life for Westerners, rice is the very pillar for people of the Far East.

Hardly a day would pass without our Chinatown family enjoying its pleasures when I was growing up. 

White rice with coin purse eggs. Sautéed greens strewn across a bed of the fluffy grains. Bits of succulent meat in a colorful stir fry piled on top of individual bowls of rice.

We leaned heavily on rice. Put all our weight against it, you could say. 

We even found uses for it besides those epicurean.

Our grandmother somehow discovered for instance, that with the addition of a little water, old rice could be cooked on the stove top to make a glue-like paste for our myriad art projects. She usually cooked the mixture on a large metal spoon over a low flame.

It wasn't quite congruent with the many stories we heard about her. Like, how before the Sino-Japanese War, she had a house full of servants who did everything for her.

And, how when the Japanese burned down the family home, she fled with her children, my mother included. My grandmother's jewelry - the only things of value she could carry with her when they escaped - were sewn into the hem of her dress.

Even as child, these were the types of images that appeared in my mind whenever I watched her hold that spoonful of sticky paste over a flame.

For me, the best use of the hard-working grain has always been as fried rice.

A dish of economy, fried rice is one of the most satisfying ways to use that left-over hardened white (or brown) block inside some forgotten container in the back of nearly every fridge across America.

You know you have one. Go check. It's there.

Use it up! Right now! (As my grandmother, who incidentally, was quite bossy would say.)

Here’s what I did with mine. First, I had to stop my husband from throwing that chunk of old rice into a bowl to “nuke” in the microwave. He was intending for it to be his entire meal.

“Seriously? You’re having just that for lunch?” I said watching him.

He nodded.

“You can’t eat just that,” I insisted, snatching the rice from him. 

I remembered that we had an overabundance of snap peas from our veggie CSA. The fat little pods were crisp and sweet, but so many had appeared recently in our weekly produce box that we hadn’t quite managed to eat them all.

Snap Peas, Unadorned

I moved onto the flavorings.

Rice is great at absorbing whatever seasonings you add to it. The traditional flavorings for Chinese fried rice orbit around ginger and green onions, garlic and soy. Some soft, quickly cooked eggs might be added in for richness. Green peas might be thrown in with a handful of scallions at the end.

I chose to go a different route. I was thinking of kimchi.

If you haven’t had it, you must. Rambunctious, bold and always confident of being liked even when dressed in its full regalia of ground chili, garlic, ginger, anchovy sauce or whatever other un-shy finery it might be wearing, kimchi is delicious.

Often, when for no reason I think of it, my mouth will start watering.

Sadly, I had none in my refrigerator. Yes, I was utterly kimchi-less. So, I did the next best thing.

I made a seasoning paste with the exact ingredients I would normally use to make a bok choy kimchi. 

Korean pepper, garlic, ginger. Anchovy sauce not pictured.

I quickly sautéed my diagonal-cut snap peas first then set them aside.

Next, I seared my seasoning paste in a very hot pan with a few tablespoons of oil. The paste caramelized and took on a smoky flavor.

I added the block of old rice, using a wooden spoon to break it up as I worked the seasoning paste into it. Then, I let the rice sit in the hot pan in as thin a layer as possible to allow the rice to soften and take on all the flavors.

The snap peas were added back in toward the end after the rice was cooked through with the paste.

On top of that, I tossed in a generous amount of chopped cilantro and green onion for freshness. A generous drizzle of toasted aromatic sesame oil followed.

I scooped it up into a bowl and handed it over to Marc.

There, much better. Savory, spicy, fresh. Super quick. And made from leftovers.

"Thanks," He said smiling as he took the bowl. 

What are you waiting for? Go make some already!

*P.S. For those of you eating paleo or ketogenic, you can still make this using cauliflower rice. Add in some cooked bacon or add a fried egg on top! Delicious.

Snap Pea Fried Rice with Kimchi Seasoning Paste

Ingredients

For Kimchi Seasoning Paste:
1 ½ Tablespoons gochugaru (Korean chili pepper flakes)
1 Tablespoon anchovy sauce
1 teaspoon evaporated cane sugar
1 teaspoon minced garlic
½ teaspoon peeled, grated ginger

For Fried Rice:
1 cup fresh snap peas
3 ½ cups cooked leftover rice
Kimchi seasoning paste (see above)
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro plus more for garnish
¼ cup chopped green onions,  plus more for garnish
4-5 Tablespoons oil of your choice (I used olive oil)
Additional salt, as needed
Dark toasted sesame oil to finish dish

Instructions
In a small bowl, stir together ingredients for seasoning paste. Set aside to allow flavors to combine for about 15 minutes.

In the meantime, remove ends of snap peas by pulling down on top and bottom ends to remove string-like “tail.” After you have done this with all of your snap peas, cut each one on the diagonal into ¼-inch pieces and place them in a small bowl. Some of the peas from inside will begin to spill out one the entire pod is cut. Toss them into your bowl.

Heat skillet (or wok) over medium-high heat. Place a tablespoon or two of oil in your skillet. Toss in the cut snap peas (and loose peas). Season with a generous pinch of salt. Stir and toss to cook for 2-3 minutes. You want the peas to be still very crisp. Set aside.

Wipe out the skillet.

After your seasoning paste has had time to come together, place skillet or wok over high heat. Allow skillet to become nice and hot before turning down to medium-high. Add oil then paste. Allow paste to sizzle and cook until it darkens a bit. It may even smoke slightly.

Add rice, breaking any chunks by pressing down gently on it with a wooden spoon or spatula. Stir and flip rice with utensil to work paste in well then spread out in a layer on the bottom of the pan. Allow to cook undisturbed for 7-8 minutes. Scrape up rice and continue to flip and stir for 5-10 more minutes. This depends on how long your rice has been hanging out in the back of your refrigerator.

When your rice is sufficiently softened and cooked, toss in cooked snap peas. Toss and flip rice to combine. Toss in cilantro and green onions. Quickly combine then shut off heat. Taste for salt and add any additional as needed.

Scoop into a serving dish and garnish with additional chopped green onions and cilantro. Drizzle generously with sesame oil.

Serves 3 generously.

Pot de Creme with Roasted Strawberries

Have you seen all the roasted strawberry ice cream recipes floating around the internet lately?  

Okay, I had to try one. I chose David Liebovitz’, which also includes miso. But, I skipped the miso since I didn’t have any. And, I used my neighbor Heather’s ice cream machine, which she lent to me while she was out of town.

This ice cream! My, was it delicious.

If you haven’t made it already, you should. It is incredible: A creamy vanilla base streaked through with sweet-tart, deeply-flavored strawberries.

Roasting the fruit removes much of the water and cooking it with the syrup helps prevent the fruit from freezing into icy bits. Instead, while in the oven, the strawberries develop a complexity worthy of partnership with the cream-and-custard base.

After Heather returned, I gave the machine back (and have been contemplating buying one ever since). Yes, fresh ice cream is incomparable.

I know there are many ice cream recipes out there which don't require a machine, including some by Nigella Lawson. I just haven't tried them yet. But I will. Soon.

Today, though, I was craving flavors similar to that strawberry ice cream. The David Liebovitz one. 

I made this instead.

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Nothing plain Jane about this custard...

Pot de crème is basically an egg custard. It is a simple and often considered by some as a homely sort here in America, where the general preference runs toward more showy, decadent desserts whose names suggest the idea of sin.

Sometimes though, all I want is a little sweetness and nothing over the top. As I made my pot de creme today, I remembered eating an ethereal, just sweetened steamed custard before bedtime as a child. 

I encourage you to embrace the humble custard. Classic ice cream begins with a custard, so why not choose this?

I made the same roasted strawberries from the David Liebovitz recipe and put them in the bottom of a glass topped with a vanilla custard. Then, I put the whole thing into a water bath in the oven. After my custards cooled a bit, I spooned just a tad more of the strawberries and syrup over each one.

Not ice cream. Not David Liebovitz’ most delicious ice cream ever, but a good second choice. Which I'd say is not a bad thing at all.

Here’s to being Number Two! 

P.S. If you want to be a real American about it, a good dollop of sweetened whipped cream on top would also be divine.

Pot de Crème with Roasted Strawberries

Makes 6 small custards (in 4-6 ounce ramekins). Or, make fewer but larger ones, if you wish!

Ingredients
For the Roasted Strawberries
1 dry pint strawberries, hulled
1 ½ Tablespoons golden syrup or honey
¼ teaspoon balsamic vinegar
A couple of turns of fresh black pepper

For the Custard
2 1/3 cups half-and-half
1 vanilla bean, split in half
5 large egg yolks
¼ cup evaporated cane sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions
Roasted Strawberries: 
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. 

Cut berries into quarters. Place in a wide, shallow dish. Drizzle golden syrup and balsamic vinegar over the berries. Sprinkle pepper on top. Place on top rack of oven. Stir once or twice during the cooking process. Allow to cook for 30-40 minutes, until berries are softened, have darkened a bit and syrup has become thickened.

Add a tablespoon to the bottom of each ramekin; set aside. (Strawberries may be prepared up to three days ahead and refrigerated.)

Custard:
Preheat oven to 320 degrees.

In a saucepan, place half-and-half. Using a small paring knife, scrape in vanilla seeds from split bean and toss in the pod itself. Bring to a gentle boil then remove from the pot. Allow to infuse for a minimum of 30 minutes. Use a fine sieve, strain the liquid. The half-and-half should remain warm to the touch.

In a bowl, beat the yolks with the sugar. Pour the infused half-and-half slowly, whisking the mixture. Stir in the vanilla extract. Pour the mixture into your ramekins or jars, making sure to remove any foam that might have formed on the surface.

Set jars in a pan and fill half way up the sides of the jars with warm water. Cover tightly with foil. Place in oven and cook for 40-45 minutes, until the custard is jiggly but not set.

Top with remaining roasted strawberries and/or sweetened whipped cream.

Note: Can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 3 days after warming up at room temperature. But these are best when still slightly warm! 

Adapted from/inspired by the amazing David Liebovitz.

Rice Porridge (Jook/Congee) with Sauteed Chard

When I was growing up in LA’s Chinatown, it was our family’s ritual to head over to the dim sum parlor on Broadway every Sunday morning. The restaurant was always crowded with families waiting by the front and loudly talking over one another. My mother always seemed to know one of the wait staff who would sneak us in before it was actually our turn on the waiting list.

Once inside, a pot of Bo Lai tea would be placed on our table. It was a bountiful scene. There were shrimp dumplings, tender egg tarts and stewed chicken feet, among many other things that we wanted to stuff right into our mouths. Food seemed to magically appear as one by one the dim sum ladies pushed their full carts up to our table. They would loudly announce their goods and if necessary, cajole us if we turned them down.

But, what I often wanted more than the rich dumplings and pork-stuffed rice noodles was a large bowl of rice porridge called jook (or congee). At its plainest, it is made of nothing more than rice, water and perhaps a bit of salt and pepper. It is a food that was eaten during war and famine. A food that has its origins in hardship and want.  

Inevitably, I would ask one of the ladies for some jook (the restaurant version being enriched with chicken stock and bits of meat, sometimes pork and “thousand-year-old” eggs). This would result in my mother declaring once again how she couldn’t understand why I wanted to eat that when there were so many other good things to eat: We ate it when we were running from the Japanese! When we were starving and there was nothing else! We would use one cup of rice and ten cups of water to make a pot of jook to feed everyone!

Once you make this recipe, you might start to understand my love of this simple dish and how it was able to sustain so many hungry people who had nothing but a small bit of white rice to share between them. It is soothing, settles the belly and warms you. Its flavor is subtle and clean.

Glorious Chard, Fresh and Nutritious...

Here, I have added chard that was sautéed separately in plenty of oil infused with garlic and a piece of ginger. The silkiness of the greens is perfect with the porridge and the whole thing is even better when finished with a drizzle of scallion oil, sesame oil and a shower of chopped green onions. When the oils hit the hot porridge, the smell is just intoxicating. 

If you want, you can make variations of this. The easiest one is to simply use chicken stock instead of water to enrich it. You can substitute the greens with shredded chicken, pork, beef or yes, even a Thousand-Year-Old egg (a duck egg preserved in lime, causing the egg white to turn brown and the yolk to transform into a gooey green in the process). Japanese and Korean versions often add a raw egg that gets stirred in and cooked by the heat of the porridge.

Many of my favorite things to eat are simple, plain and uncomplicated. This is at the top of my list.

Rice Porridge(Jook/Congee) with Spring Greens

Ingredients

1 cup white short grain rice
10 cups water
2 teaspoons salt
1 or 2 pinches of ground white pepper
1 bunch swiss chard, stems removed (save for another use), rinsed, and leaves chopped into ribbons
1 clove garlic, smashed
1 slice fresh ginger, smashed
2 Tablespoons sunflower oil

For garnish:

Chopped scallions, greens and whites
Dark toasted sesame oil
Black sesame seeds

Green Scallion Oil 

Instructions

For greens

1. Heat pan on medium-high. When pan is hot, add oil, garlic and then ginger. Remove garlic and ginger after 2-3 minutes.

2. Add greens and stir, coating greens with oil and sauté. If your greens become too dry, add a tablespoon or two of liquid, stirring. Cook until nicely wilted, about 5 minutes. Set greens aside.

Jook/Congee

1. Give rice a good rinse to remove any talc. Place in large heavy-bottom pot.

2. Add water, salt.

3. Turn heat to medium high and bring to a boil.

4. Once it boils, turn it down to low.

5. While porridge is simmering, make greens (see above).

6. Simmer partially covered for an hour, or until mixture resembles a heavy cream.

7. Place a small pile of greens in bowl. Ladle porridge in around the greens. Garnish with chopped scallions, sesame seeds. Drizzle sesame oil generously. Drizzle scallion oil on generously as well.

8. Eat, share. Eat some more.

Green Goddess Dressing with Roasted Garlic

So, okay. While living in winter darkness, dutifully swallowing my daily vitamin D and salmon oil capsules to maintain a positive mood, I consumed a lot, possibly gallons of Green Goddess Dressing.

My tarragon plant had gone dormant. So, I substituted some dried herbs. But my dressing was still green and creamy and a much-needed reminder of the eventual return of spring. I slathered it on lettuce, dunked cut-up carrots and celery in it and dipped crackers into it. I even poured it over quinoa-feta cakes.

Green Goddess Dressing may be a relic of the hippie sixties to some, but for me, it's a sustaining elixir. While the version you may be familiar with uses raw garlic, I like to use roasted garlic to temper some of the bite. I started doing this after my teenage niece, Alex, came over and said the dressing was a little "strong" for her tastes.

Roasted garlic provides grounding and offers voluptuousness to the lighter, more showy green notes.

I won’t hog you to myself anymore, Green Goddess. Now that Spring’s here, everyone ought to be enjoying your happy flavors.

Here's to sharing!

Green Goddess Dressing (adapted from Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone) 

¾ c. sour cream or yogurt

4 tablespoons mayonnaise

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

½ cup chopped parsley

3 tablespoons chopped chives (or 2 tablespoons green onions)

1 ½ tablespoon chopped tarragon (or 1 teaspoon dried)

2 small garlic cloves

1 or 2 anchovies, depending on your preferred taste or ¼ teaspoon salt for vegetarians

Heat up a cast-iron skillet and toss in your cloves of garlic, skin still on. Let them blister and blacken, turning as needed.

Combine all the ingredients, including the roasted garlic, along with 2 tablespoons water in a blender or food processor. An immersion blender works too. Blend until smooth and pale green, the color of Spring. Taste and add more anchovy/salt if needed.

Slather on everything edible in sight. This dressing likes sturdy lettuces, such as large romaine leaves. Try it on quinoa cakes, veggies or crackers. Devour. Then devour some more.