Big Tuna.

Now enough about my feelings, let's eat.


Spicy Tuna + Avocado Crisps Inspired by the ahi taco shimi from Ronin Izakaya, the ahi tuna tartare from Magnolia on Sunset, and other variations at different restaurants, I decided to attempt my own interpretation of it. I layered multigrain chips with guacamole (avocados, chopped red onion, chopped serrano chili, and lime juice) and spicy tuna (sashimi-grade tuna, Sriracha, sesame seed oil, and chopped green onion - recipe courtesy of BP). Definitely a keeper.


Tuna Tartare in Cucumber Cups I'm always intrigued by food presentations that incorporate the shells of vegetables and fruits. Finding a few neglected pickling cucumbers in my vegetable drawer, I decided to make hors d'oeuvres served in hollow cucumber shells. I seasoned the spicy tuna (see above) with soy sauce and wasabi and filled the cucumbers with the mixture. Cool as a cucumber.

Bubbly.

My mom likes beer. She doesn't even try to be pretentious about it. Not Guinness. Not Stella. Not Lowenbrau. She likes the stuff that truckers in the Midwest like. Those truckers who wear "John Deere" hats, not because it's trendy, but because they're actually employed by John Deere. I'm talking about Mickey's and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. She, herself, is originally from Middle America - Iowa/ Illinois - think Bridges of Madison County and Chevy pickup trucks. Over the years, she has acquired a taste for red wine, specifically Syrah. And vodka martinis. But just between you and me, I think she just likes the martinis for the olives.

On those hot, summer days when you just lose your appetite for anything, I know that my mom would appreciate an ice-cold bottle of beer. On those quiet nights, when the rest of the world has gone to bed, I know that my mom would want a nice glass of garnet-colored wine. And on those days where you're just tired of the same ol' story, I know that my mom would be delighted by a crisp, colorful cocktail.

Tonight, I picked up a bottle of champagne on my way back to Orange County. A bottle of Korbel (I can't afford French champagne just yet, only ones from Sonoma/Napa Valley.) and a bouquet of flowers. We're not big champagne drinkers, but it only seemed appropriate because there was reason to celebrate - my mom got a job.

There is a lot to be said about how proud I am of my mom. About what a great accomplishment this is. About how excited, anxious, and a little bit scared I am for what the future holds for her. About how excited, anxious, and a little bit scared I am for what this means for me and the rest of our family. But for right now, I am so happy for her.

So we celebrated.

Blood sausage and sea salt gelato.

I know of 2 different ways for making Kimchi chigae (Kimchi stew/soup/goodness). One is with dried anchovy broth, which actually tastes better than it sounds. And another is with pork. I'm not a big fan of pork broth, which is why I stay away from ramen (pork broth + noodles) and gamja tang (pork, specifically pork neck, broth + potatoes). So usually, I make it with anchovies, but today, I decided to make it using pork, in honor of my loyal tasters - C, HKT, and BP.




We had quite a spread, as we always do. Banchan (side dishes) that my mom had neatly packed for us in plastic Ziploc containers. Fresh perilla leaves and red leaf lettuce that I had made BP wash, leaf by leaf. Steamed rice with a sprinkling of what C and I call "purple rice" (heuk-mi). Grilled pork belly (leftovers from the kimchi chigae) with sesame seed oil + salt + pepper. And of course, the pièce de résistance - kimchi chigae. We talked about Danish pork belly, football, and the Kardashians.



The perfect end to my less-than perfect day: SCOOPS. If you ever find yourself on the dark and sketchy corner of Melrose and Heliotrope, follow the Christmas lights and the crowds of people into this small mecca for gourmands, like yours truly, where they serve innovative, DELICIOUS, and affordable(!) gelato. 2 flavors! 2 scoops! $2.75! The flavors change daily - and they never disappoint. Chocolate peanut butter! Oreo mascarpone! Vanilla malt! Strawberry balsamic! We sat around the table, indulging ourselves, and came up with our own creative combinations - Taro coconut! Blood sausage and sea salt! Pickled ginger and ahi tuna! Dduk-bok-ee (rice cakes with red pepper paste)!

Overall, today was an unproductive day, as evidenced by the gluttony captured on camera and this post itself. But today was good. Though my day was marked with random moments of uncontrollable sorrow and fear, I was smiling, laughing and more importantly, eating.

The sky is falling.

I know I said that this would be about my own culinary experimentation, but sometimes, we all need a little inspiration.

Today was a difficult day.

And if I could, I would have cooked dinner, like I always do. Maybe some seafood linguine? Or Tyler Florence's recipe for "Hunter's Minestrone" that I've been meaning to try.

But it didn't work out that way.

My mom and I drove to my apartment in LA, separately but one after the other. We cleaned up, changed our clothes and I decided to take my mom to Ronin Izakaya on La Cienega Blvd for some fusion Japanese tapas. A pitcher of Sapporo draft beer, garlic edamame, ahi taco shimi, calamari fritters with jalapeno aioli, pork in light shoyu broth, and some oxtail braised in miso. She loved it.

We didn't talk about what happened and what's going to happen. Instead, we talked about how much my brother would love this place. How my 2nd aunt would probably not like Ronin. (She's the practical one = cheap + big portions) How my 1st aunt would probably love it. (She's the romantic one = cheese + wine) What makes LA different from NYC. Possible business ideas, including a fusion Korean tapas bar.

I asked her if she ever thinks about what my grandma would say if she were alive. A couple of days ago, my cousin had asked me the same thing. And for some reason, that imaginary conversation was more comforting than anything else I had heard all week. I was hoping it would do the same for my mom. My mom said that my grandma used to always say, "Even if the sky is falling, there's always a way out." (loosely translated) My grandma was a true survivor - the Japanese occupation, the Korean War, immigration to the States, her own marriage. So for my grandma, the sky always seemed to be falling, but she never lost sight of her faith, her passion for life and her will to live.

My mom is comforted, encouraged, inspired and motivated by my grandma's legacy, and I am thankful for that. And I know that this gut-wrenching knot in the pit of my stomach will eventually go away. And I know that one day (soon), I will be happier than sad, more humble than angry, more hopeful than defeated.

After some coffee at Peet's on Larchmont, I drove my mom back to her car. She tried to cheer me up by assuring me that she's so much stronger than I give her credit for. I wanted to believe her, but a part of me just wanted to drive right behind her all the way back to Orange County.

Epiphany.

I don't remember when I started cooking.
But I do remember that I was always surrounded by cooking...

I remember my grandma, my aunts and my mom in the kitchen at one of my (3) aunt's houses kneading, rolling, slicing dough to make kal-guk-soo (Korean flour noodles in hot broth). And my aunt telling me, "The key to kal-guk-soo is to make the noodles from scratch..."

I remember my mom making kimchi in the backyard and asking me (as she always does when she makes kimchi) if I'm going to remember these recipes and make kimchi once I'm married. I always replied, "No." Regardless, she would continue to say that the hardest and the most critical phase of the whole kimchi-making procedure was to salt the napa just right...

I remember taking a summer cooking class in elementary school, at the Yorba Linda Community Center. We learned how to make chicken parmigiana (using Kellogg's corn flakes) and one fateful day, we made chocolate whipped-cream roll. Chocolate cake + chocolate whipped cream + chocolate frosting. I was sick the rest of the day, and I've had an aversion to chocolate since.

Since then, I have advanced to the higher gastronomical realms of Giada de Laurentiis, Ina Garten, and Michael Chiarello. (I don't use the recipes of the other Food Network chefs for their lack of pretentiousness.) I've since discovered the magical world of orzo, kalamata olives, fennel, parmigiano-reggiano, and "good" olive oil.

In the aftermath of the s***storm that has hit our beautiful single-story residence in Yorba Linda, I had an epiphany. While grilling steaks, asparagus, and cherry tomatoes for my estranged parents, I realized that I cook to create momentary lapses of happiness for myself and those around me. For the past 25 years, I had come to convince myself that I can make things better (at least temporarily) by making lasagna rollatinis, French onion soup, kimchi chigae, buta no kakuni, and more. And wine. Wine is always good.

I do realize that I'm going to need some serious therapy some time in the near future. But for now, I'm going to keep cooking and create photographic records of it in cyberspace.