Tubu Kimchi Chez B's

Pictures: Kimchi and bacon cooking on the stove.
Tubu kimchi on the plate.
Milchreiss (German rice pudding)

Tubu kimchi is my fave Korean dish, and tonight I made it for the first time in the discomfort of my tiny kitchen. I love the dish. It can serve as a metaphor for Korean themselves: earthy, vibrant, almost dangerously hot, but still wonderfully irresistible because of the mildness and softness of the tubu piled under the cabbage. Come to think of it, if Koreans choose to give their kids more original/weird names, my friend J. should be renamed to Tubu-kimchi Kim. It'd match his personality perfectly.

****A month or so ago I partnered up with H. for a weekly langauge exchange session. We meet Tuesdays around 6 or 7 pm alternating between my modest 'billa' and H.J.'s grand apartment with an even grander view, right on the Hangang. The deal is: the hostess prepares the dinner, the guest brings of bottle of vino, and for several hours we let our toungues do vigorous exercise in three lanaguages. She is, namely, a German teacher and I , long ago, had similar ambitions. She usually cooks Hanshik (Korean), I usually cook Yangshik (western), for no other reason than to add the cultural a.k.a culinary componenent to our lessons. Oh, yes, and we like to eat. A lot!
It was my turn to host the evening of linguistics and leisure tonight. However, I decided to cook Korean, as my neighbour E gave me a big container of fresh homemade kimchi that I really need to use up quickly. Fresh or not, it made my ordinary fridge (not Dimchae, the fridge for kimchi!) smell like a Seoul subway car on a busy morning. Not wanting to disappoint H. in her expectations of non-Korean food, I also made something very German for dessert - Milchreis (milk rice, or rice pudding German-style).

Since I was either teaching, or working in my office, or puttering about the campus, it was already 4:30 when I made a quick dash to the grocery store, and minutes later attacked my kitchen duty with gusto.

I had no time to google the recipe for tubu kimchi. Left to my own devices, I just guessed what needed to be done. I guess that my guess was not so bad cuz in the end the dish turned out just fine - more than fine, actually. First, I heated some sesame oil and fried a bit of minced garlic in it. Then I added bite-sized peaces of bacon, cut kimchi, sesame seeds, a dash of soy sauce, a dash of Oyster sauce (why not?!) and let the whole, admittedly quite unappetizing-looking mess simmer for about 20 minutes). When kimchi was about ready, I boiled a big block of tubu, for about 3 min.
The Milchreiss was already bubbling on the stove. It's one of my winter favourites and so easy to make: 1 cup of rice, 4 cups of milk, 2 Tbsp. sugar, a dash of vanilla sugar or a few drops of vanilla extract. I boiled the milk, reduced the heat, added rice, sugar, vanila, and let all of this creamy goodness simmer at lowest for about 30 minutes, stirring vigorously and often to prevent burning. It's delicious.
C. started her "ways you know it's winter" on her blog. I might add: when I start craving hot gooey porridgey mass of simple carbs, I know it's winter.
I served tubu kimchi with a pitcher of beer. It was delicious... and the tuby kimchi wasn't bad either. H. said that no one could guess it wasn't made by a proper Korean ajumshi.
After the dinner, we both felt very tired and uninspired so there was impromptu class cancellation and move to the living room, where we sprawed on the warm floor and watched "The Lake House."I slept through half of it.

No wonder, as I was tired beyond description. Last night, after a long absence, Hypnos visited me again stealing my sleep and cruelly refusing to knock me out. I was tossing and turning until wee hours, and of course, it just so happened that I had to get up at 6:00 and prepare the final written exam for my IEC class. I am a terrible procrastinator, and I know I need to do something about it.
At this very moment I have a pile of dishes -of the most pungent post kimchi- meal kind -waiting to be washed, but I let them enjoy their bath in the dirty reddish water choosing to scribble.
E. gave me a wonderful bouque of flowers last Friday. She was on her way up to her apartment and just knocked on my door to say hello. I invited her in, and we had a nice chat, finishing a pitcher of beer. (All these pitchers are leftovers from last Saturday when my colleagues were here for dinner). She was carrying the bouquet, given to her by her university study group. It wasn't the usual Koren extravaganza of tulle and paper, but a very tastefully done big bouque simply tied by a ribbon. I must have expressed my adoration very vocally, since E. absolutely refused to take it home with her and gave it to me. It's been sitting on my dining room table for a few days. It smells great, too: I open the door to my apartment and can smell the lilies.
Well, maybe not now, as the smell of kimchi is quite overwhelming.

On a different note: there's a strangest exhibition going on at our exhibition centre. It's the fine arts students' graduate work. When I say strange, I mean strange: huge canvases with gaping hairy beavers not of the kind that made Canada famous, but that other kind of beaver pursued by the straight male population. I'll go for a second look and try to sneak a few photos.