Songsoo Kim’s oyster jook with soy-cured egg, fishcakes with daikon in broth, and crispy jeon (pancake)
An essay about cooking for Alice and Dalai, and recipes for a rainy day. Words and photographs by Songsoo Kim.
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Welcome to Vittles Recipes! In this weekly slot, our roster of six rotating columnists will share their recipes and wisdom with you. This week’s columnist is Songsoo Kim. You can read our archive of cookery writing here.
Cooking for Alice and Dalai
There’s an expression in Korean – 染 – that blames one’s melancholy on the seasons. The verb ‘blame’ may not be adequate: the character 染 is a combination of the characters 氵(‘water’), 九 (‘hook’), and 木 (‘tree’) – to hang (on a hook 九) from a tree (木) in water (氵). Perhaps a better way to think of the concept is as if one is dyed by the season. The verb draws attention to the importance of observing nature’s rhythms, and recognises how our emotions may be completely enmeshed in them.
This winter, I often felt coloured by the season, and regularly wandered into reclusive melancholy. One day, I decide to give this feeling company. I message Alice and Dalai, and ask them if they would like to come over for a meal. Alice and Dalai are from Taiwan, and like me, came to London via the working holiday visa scheme. Now, we have all been in London for more than seven years. With them, I share unspoken understandings that I don’t always have with others – about concepts of home (and where and what home may be), and caring for our ageing parents in a way that is culturally unlike our European peers. I wish to discuss such thoughts with them over a meal – ideas of home-making, distance, and how to make sense of where we find ourselves in the world.
When Alice and Dalai arrive, it’s raining outside. I cook them an oyster jook (congee) with glutinous rice, the flesh of the oyster swimming in the sticky rice amid streaks of soy-cured egg yolk. As we laugh and slurp our jook, they coo at their bowls, signalling to me as if to say, ‘This is great, this is correct.’ The jook is delicate but also rich and distinctive, complex without being too heavy. I also serve a broth with fishcakes and daikon, and a jeon or crispy pancake with julienned leeks and daikon. Alice and Dalai take great comfort in these dishes, switching between the fried pancake and broth, dipping in and out of their bowls. This meal is soothing, and matches the rain outside. I think of how, in Korea, pancakes are eaten when the rain comes.
Our conversation is collage-like. English enables us to speak to one another, but our disjointed communication in it leaves space for feelings more powerful than words. With Alice and Dalai, I share gestures and cultures of care, food, and feelings, products of our shared histories, concerns, and decisions. As we eat and listen to the rain, our chatter dampens my melancholy, infusing it with kinship and meaning. I think about spring, which will have arrived by the time this column is in the world, and about surrendering to the seasons once again.
Oyster jook (congee) with soy-cured egg yolks
This recipe is based on a dish I remember from when I was around thirteen. It was winter, and we had this oyster jook for breakfast in Myeong-dong, Seoul. It may seem unusual to cook oysters, but by warming them gently in the congee, the oysters become super creamy, simultaneously delicate and rich.
Serves 2
Time 1 hr 15 mins plus 1 hr soaking
Ingredients
for the oyster jook
1L chicken or vegetable stock
200g short grain rice, rinsed and soaked in cold water for 1 hr
salt, to taste
4 oysters
for the soy-cured yolks
2 egg yolks
2 tbsp soy sauce or tamari
to serve
toasted sesame seeds, roughly crushed
toasted sesame oil
Method
1 Heat the stock in a medium-sized saucepan over a medium-high heat. Drain the rice and add it to the stock, then stir in a pinch of salt and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer gently for about 30–40 mins, stirring every 10 mins.
2 Meanwhile, cure your egg yolks. Put the soy sauce or tamari in a small bowl, then carefully add the yolks. Cover the bowl and set aside for 30 mins, gently turning the yolks halfway through.
3 When the rice is completely cooked through, and some grains have broken down so that the jook has a smooth, porridge-like texture, carefully shuck the oysters. Strain the oyster juice into a bowl, then pour it into the jook and give it a stir. Taste the jook – it should be subtly salty, with a briny, seaside flavour. Very gently fold the whole oysters into the jook and cook for 1–2 mins. Be careful not to overcook them; they should be soft, creamy, and just warmed through.
4 Ladle the jook into bowls. Top each bowl with a cured yolk, crushed sesame seeds, and a generous drizzle of toasted sesame oil. Eat straight away.
Fishcakes with daikon in broth
Although light, the broth in this recipe has lots of flavour, which the daikon soaks up well. The fried fishcakes add extra flavour, body, and texture.
Serves 3–4
Time 2 hrs 30 mins
Ingredients
for the fishcakes
400g skinless and boneless firm white fish (eg hake and pollock), cut into chunks
60g leeks, finely diced
1½ tbsp cooking sake
1 tsp salt
neutral oil, for deep frying
for the broth
80g dried anchovies (see notes)
1 sheet kombu
40g katsuobushi or bonito flakes (see notes)
60g leek or ½ a white onion
1.2L water
for the daikon
500g daikon, peeled
1–2 tbsp kombu tsuyu (see notes)
1 tbsp mirin
1 good pinch flaky sea salt
Method
1 Begin by preparing your fishcakes. Add the fish, sake, and a pinch of salt to a food processor and blitz until mostly smooth (don’t worry if there are a couple of chunks here and there). Mix through the finely chopped leeks, then spread the mixture into a square 10cm x 10cm container, cover, and place in the fridge for 10 mins to firm up, or until you are ready to fry.
2 Remove the fish mixture from the fridge then form the fishcakes into balls (a little smaller than golf balls), then flatten them slightly. Fill a medium-sized saucepan three-quarters of the way with oil and heat to 180°C (see notes). Carefully add three or four fishcakes to the pan and fry until they are a deep golden brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and transfer to a plate lined with kitchen paper. Repeat in small batches until all the fishcakes are cooked. Set aside.
3 Next, make the broth. Place a large saucepan over a medium-high heat and add the dried anchovies. Toast for 2 mins, without letting them take on any colour – this helps to temper the fishiness. Add the leek or onion and pour over 1.2L of cold water. Bring to a rolling boil for 10 mins, then reduce to a very gentle simmer and add the kombu sheet. Bring back up to the boil, then add the katsuobushi flakes and immediately remove from the heat. Cover and set aside for 20 mins.
4 After 20 mins, pass the broth through a sieve, then return to the saucepan and add the daikon. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 30 mins.
5 Add the fishcakes to the broth and bring it back to a gentle boil. Add the mirin, simmer for 20–30 mins more until the daikon is completely tender. Feel free to top up the broth with a little more water if necessary. Check the seasoning, then add 1–2 tbsp kombu tsuyu and a pinch of sea salt, to taste. The broth should be light and gentle but flavourful, the daikon should be soft but still holding its shape, and the fishcakes should be a bit puffed up from the broth.
6 When you’re ready to eat, ladle the daikon, fishcakes, and broth into bowls.
Notes
You can find dried anchovies in the refrigerated or frozen section of Asian supermarkets or groceries. Bonito flakes and kombu tsuyu (a Japanese soup base made with kelp, dried shiitake mushrooms, and soy sauce) can also be bought in Asian supermarkets or online.
I tend to cut the daikon on a bias and rotate it by a quarter between cuts. This is a cutting method that the Japanese call rangiri. You can watch a video on rangiri here.
The fishcakes can be made up to a day in advance. They will keep in the freezer for up to a month after cooking, and can be used in various dishes.
If you don’t have a cooking thermometer to check the heat of the oil for deep-frying the fishcakes, you can test the temperature of the oil by dropping in a little bit of the mixture. If the mixture sizzles and small bubbles quickly form around it, then the oil is hot enough for frying.
Leek and daikon jeon (pancake)
Serves 2–3 (as a snack or side dish)
Time 25 mins
Ingredients
200g daikon, julienned
200g leeks (see notes), julienned
1 tsp fine sea salt
150g shop-bought tempura batter mix (see notes)
220ml ice-cold water (see notes)
neutral oil, for frying
to serve
ponzu (see below for a recipe for a home-made version, although note that it needs to infuse for 6 months)
1 Put a colander in the sink and add the daikon and the leek. Sprinkle with the salt and toss to combine. Leave for 10 mins, then squeeze out any excess water.
2 Put the vegetables into a large bowl and sprinkle over the dry tempura mix. Toss well so that all the vegetables are evenly coated, then pour over 220ml water and mix to make a batter.
4 Place a cast iron pan or heavy-duty frying pan over medium heat and add 5 tbsp oil. When the oil starts to shimmer, test the heat by dropping in a little bit of the batter. If the batter sizzles and crisps up, then you’re ready to go.
5 Use a large spoon to add enough batter to the pan to make an 18–20cm pancake. Use the back of the spoon to evenly spread out the mixture thinly – ideally it should be thin, no more than around 1cm thick. Don’t fret over any gaps or imperfect edges – these make for an extra-crispy texture.
6 Fry for 4–5 mins, or until the jeon is golden brown and crispy on the base, then flip over and cook the other side. Gently remove from the pan and drain on kitchen paper. Repeat with any remaining batter. Serve the jeon while it’s crispy and piping hot, with a ramekin of ponzu on the side.
Notes
You can use any long allium vegetables for this recipe. Spring is a good time to use three-cornered leeks or wild garlic (although these wild vegetables might not be so readily available in cities), but leeks also work well.
You can get tempura batter mix in Asian or other speciality grocery stores, in some supermarkets, and online.
I’ve used 220ml of water in this recipe because usually the ratio of tempura mix to water is 1:1½. However, make sure you read the back of the packet, because the proportions might differ for different brands.
Citrus ponzu
Ponzu is a citrus-based sauce used in Japanese cuisines. It can be found at Asian or Japanese stores, but I recommend making your own. For me, long fermentation projects and simple infusions have a way of grounding things, and the process of making this citrus ponzu – an infusion of citrus and soy sauce – is one that I have come to love. You can use bitter oranges, yuzu, cara oranges, or any kind of special, flavourful citrus: in the past, I have used fruit from farms that I visited in Spain for work, the yuzu from Namayasai Farm, and chinotto.
Makes A large jarful
Time 5 mins plus at least 6 months’ infusing
Ingredients
300g chinotto or any other kind of flavourful citrus
750ml soy sauce
Method
1 Slice your citrus fruit of choice into rounds and discard the seeds, the stack in a clean jar.
2 Pour over the soy sauce, screw on the lid, then label and date.
3 Leave the ponzu to infuse for 6 months. At this point, the flavours should be well balanced – soy with a citrus aroma and a tickle of acidity. You can also leave it for even longer – the ponzu I made with chinotto tasted even better after a year.
Credits
Songsoo Kim is based in London. She works for Super8 Restaurants (Kiln, Smoking Goat, Brat, Mountain) as Head of Sourcing and Development. She has worked as a chef, and on farms for many years in South Korea, India, and the United States, which has led her to her work in a niche role in the restaurant industry. She is an advocate for farms and farmers and believes that cooking and the idea of deliciousness originate from the land.
Vittles Recipes is edited by Rebecca May Johnson, Sharanya Deepak, Jonathan Nunn, and Odhran O’Donoghue, and is proofed and subedited by Odhran O’Donoghue. These recipes are tested by Georgia Rudd.