Spicy Kimchee Nabe

Full disclosure: I love to cry when I eat. Not tears of sadness, but the kind of tears that result from consuming something so spicy that, in addition to firing up the intestines and causing beads of sweat to manifest on the skin, it overcomes the sinuses to force droplets of delicious joy to escape the eyes. Such a reaction is my definition of a complete dining experience. Which is why my obsession with Japanese food is somewhat curious, since most Japanese dishes are lacking in spiciness. Except those that are Korean inspired, such as Spicy Kimchee Nabe.

For a white girl with plenty of experience eating Asian food but not much experience making it myself, attempting nabe with such deep flavor was quite intimidating. The good news for me is that this dish is entirely dairy-free; no heavy creams that make my skin crawl simply because they are suspected of being the main ingredient in cellulite. Also, the directions are fairly simple: boil up some water, throw in some veggies, and add some seasoning. Here's what I used to make my very first Spicy Kimchee Nabe:
-about 4 cups water
-1 cup bean sprouts
-1 cup nappa, chopped
-4 shitake mushroom caps, quartered
-1/4 package tofu
-3 pieces kimchee, chopped
-4 tbsp "Togarashi" red pepper  (as pictured below)

Pay no attention to the 12/31/13 expiration date; if you keep your pepper in the freezer it will last. We used it last night and we're still alive and kicking.

-1 tbsp mirin
-1 tbsp miso

Boil the water in a pot, ideally a clay "nabe" pot. Add the nappa first, since it's the most firm of the veggies and will take the longest to cook. The beansprouts and the shitake can follow shortly after. Hold off on the tofu until the veggies start to soften, since tofu gets weird holes in it when it's boiled too much. Once that happens, add the pepper, then wait 30 seconds and add the kimchee. Right before everything is ready, add the miso and mirin. Stir for 2-3 minutes and then serve. It's as simple as that! Oh, and be sure to keep whatever soup is leftover, as it will make an excellent base for shin ramen the next day. 

Authentic, home cooked Korean-Japanese fusion

The word "fusion" draws the ire of many a foodie who prefer authentic ethnic cuisine; however, my decision to pick up a nearly expired package of Korean mixed miso which had been marked down from $5.99 to $1.99 inspired just that. While buying anything a day before it's expiration date has always seemed sketchy to me, the reassurance of the guy at the Korean market which I frequent on a nearly daily basis put me at ease. My boyfriend reconfirmed its edibility when he arrived home later that night, and pledged that the next day he would prepare for me a version of Doenjang Jjigae with a Japanese twist.
Having spent a significant amount of time in Korea for business, my boyfriend knows a thing or two about Korean food. His tongue has an acute understanding of the type of spices they use, and he is able to replicate the flavor just as well as any Korean restaurant I've ever been to in NYC. For his special version, he combined the Korean miso with Japanese Aka, or red miso, and added a couple shakes of hondashi to create a delicious, deep broth. The bitterness of the Aka offset the spiciness of the Korean miso very nicely. After that, he added 3 cloves of garlic, about a quarter of a block of tofu (chopped), 3 chopped scallions, a few ebi (shrimp), and tilapia. To neutralize the fish smell, he also threw in some chopped celery. What's nice about the garlic is that it aids blood circulation, which is why my boyfriend uses a lot of it. Before I began eating his cooking, my hands would often become cold to the point my nail beds would take on a bluish hue; that never happens anymore. According to my boyfriend, Korea is a very cold country, which is why their food typically contains a good amount of garlic and spice.
While this Korean stew is tasty anytime, eating it on a chilly night in early fall will be sure to warm your bones and satisfy your palate!