An ode to Kie-Jo, expert kimchi maker

And my mother

Food For Thought

There are times that I look in the mirror and I see my mother's face. Which is no bad thing because Kie-Jo Sarsfield was (and still is) a total babe. We have matching scars under our lips and the same freckle on the right side of our nose. But where I see our personalities converging the most is in the kitchen. We run our kitchens with the same control. Which means big this-is-my-kitchen-and-I'll-do-what-I-want energy.

I have learned most of what I know about cooking from my mother. Flavour combinations, how to measure without measuring (still learning), roasting techniques and which pans to use. If I have a question about anything food related, I call mum. I remember the first recipe she ever gave me. I was at university and I was really craving her lemon chicken. Pieces of chicken butterflied and flattened, marinated in lemon and garlic then slowly cooked in a mix of lemon juice, zest and oil, then thickened with flour so you end up with a saucy, soft, tender chicken dish, often served with lemony pasta and a big green salad. Mum emailed me the recipe and I've been making versions of it ever since.

There's nothing like eating her kimchi. She makes jars and jars of it every few months. All different kinds. The classic cabbage kind. Oi kimchi, which is made with cucumbers and tastes like a fresh smack of spring. Or one of my favourites – water kimchi – a non-spicy summer version that mum used to drink on hot days as a child living in a tiny fishing village in South Korea.

Other Korean signature dishes that she makes: dried anchovies, one of her favourite things to eat for lunch as a child, with hot sticky white rice. Miyaguk, a garlic-infused seaweed broth made with beef bones, most often given to new mothers to help restore them after childbirth. Ssam, a sweet spicy paste served with tender pork belly, wrapped in lettuce or sesame leaves (which we grow in our back garden). Bulgogi, thin strips of beef marinated in a spice-spiked smoky sauce and flash fried in a cast iron pan, served still sizzling on the table.

What I've always loved about how my mother approaches food is that she is so lateral in her process. She's of course an expert in Korean cooking; but she can apply that knowledge of flavour and cook up French stews, Italian pastas, English pies and Indian curries. She is fearless in the kitchen. Nothing is off limits. Which is perhaps where our cooking personalities diverge. I play it safe. I lean into signature dishes. Perhaps I'll grow into my mother's fearlessness, both in and out of the kitchen.

All this is to say, Mum, thanks for teaching me the joy of food. From knowing where it comes from to understanding how to cook it. I'm so grateful that our family was forged around food – whether it was at home, in restaurants or on holiday. And that you taught me how to take this insatiable appetite for food, and apply it to all aspects of my life. And also for always being on the other end of the phone when I have a question about roasting a chicken (still).

Here's to the people who feed us – whether it's food, love, curiosity or joy.

Cat x

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Recipes-not-recipes™️

One somewhat inspired by my mother. A noodle dish that’s spicy, sweet, salty and a little smooth.

(lol at this blurry picture)

You’ll need…

• A packet of noodles (I used udon but soba noodles would work too!)

• 2 tablespoons sesame oil

• 3 ½ tablespoons soy sauce

• 2 tablespoons rice or white wine vinegar

• Juice of 1/2 lime

• 2 tablespoons tahini

• 1 tablespoon peanut butter

• 2 teaspoons of gochuchang (or chilli paste/chilli oil)

• 1 tablespoon honey

• 1 tablespoon finely grated ginger

• 2 teaspoons minced garlic

• Toasted sesame seeds

• Chopped spring onions

Whisk all the wet ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Cook the noodles according to the packet (udon takes about 2-3 minutes; soba noodles more like 7-10 minutes), then drain. Add the noodles to the bowl, then mix and coat them. Add the sesame seeds + spring onions at the end.

I roasted some sesame and soy sauce tossed broccoli and kale in a 200º oven for 15 minutes, then mixed leftover roast chicken and added the noodle mixture to that dish. But these noods would taste great on their own or with any leafy greens you’ve got in your fridge.

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Since I Asked

Couldn’t not ask my mum a few questions about her favourite dishes and why they’re special to her. I called her this morning to ask her these questions, and it made me realise I need to ask her more questions.

What’s a dish that reminds you of home?

Kimchi jiggae. In Korea we cooked it a lot, because kimchi and tofu was always available. It reminds me of cold, sunny winter days, sitting with family, kimchi jiggae bubbling in the middle of the table. It’s so inclusive, everyone reaching and scooping it onto bowls of rice. It's a very humble food, and can be made just using leftovers.

What's your favourite dish to cook?

I love cooking Korean grilled fish, kimchi and a simple soya bean paste soup. And mountains of vegetables. That's what I miss the most. I love Korean yellow fish, because I haven't had it since I left Korea. Now I would probably cook sea bass – it's a similar taste, but yellow fish is more flavourful.

What's your favourite food memory?

We have a memorial service for the dead which has to be just after midnight, where we serve food and all the family gathers as we pay respect to our ancestors. Even in the middle of winter we would open our windows so our ancestors could come and have a feast with us. We would share all the food with our immediate neighbours. Food like salted steamed fish, octopus. Everything has to be whole, nothing cut. A lot of fruit – usually the favourite fruit of the dead (my mum loved subac, which means watermelon). Because the food had to be non-spicy, there was never kimchi on the table. But fried mooli and spinach and mountains of vegetables. And after service, we'd all make bibimbap and eat it with soup and salted yellow fish. This ceremony is called Jaesa Sang, which means memorial feast table. The next day we'd go to Mum's grave, and then eat a picnic of Korean pancakes, fruit, and kimbap.

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Leftovers

• Really into the look of this Saturday scramble

• For the love of figs, via The New Yorker

• Kimchi jeon (aka Korean pancakes) from Esther Choi

• Vanity Fair wrote about 6 classic foodie moments from Nancy Meyers movies and I’m v grateful for it.

• Noodles but make it breakfast (and add American cheese?) via Roy Choi

• Spring is almost upon us, and so are fresher-than-fresh salmon salads via NYT Cooking

• Ruby Tandoh on why we don’t need to earn our food (trigger warning: includes references to eating disorders)

• “I Ate Like A Boy To Avoid Being A Queer Man” – a beautiful essay by Logan Scherer on Bon Appétit