Korea: Simple snacks at home and lessons in simplicity

This may come as something of a surprise to you, but I'm a person who absolutely and utterly adores food. Not only is food a necessary form of fuel to power us through the routine tasks of everyday existence, but it's also a form of entertainment and escape, an art in and of itself. The foods that speak most strongly to each person's soul are going to be as unique to that individual as their thumbprint, due in large part to what they grew up eating but also to the formative food experiences they've had over the years. I know, some of you probably rolled your eyes so hard at the phrase "formative food experiences" that you're reading this sentence through your nostrils. That's fine. I understand your hesitance, the skeptical glare sweeping your eyes. For a lot of people out there, walking around, food is solely fuel and therefore maintains a lowly stasis as something that must be done, not something that should be done, and that's a shame. A formative food experience, however, is a resplendent and unimitable experience, where something simple takes on all new elevation. 

    

Fish was one of these formative food experiences for me. Growing up I was pretty lucky, for a desert dweller, to be blessed with the opportunity to try various kinds of seafood at an early age. I was a pretty adventurous eater from youth, so I was more than happy to mow down mussels or join my dad for a crab leg night at the local buffet, and an obsession with the original Japanese Iron Chef (dubbed over for American television) didn't hurt either. Even so, fish itself wasn't something we ate much of- definitely never was it ever cooked it in our home. It was looked down upon as a diet food, something bland and boring to be breaded and deep fried and only eaten on a whimsical flight of fancy in the form of a filet o'fish on some drunken eve. Plus, there's that notorious smell it's known for releasing, so it just wasn't around much. One fateful day while living in Japan, however, I found myself introduced to a new approach to eating fish- skewered, simply grilled for a long, slow cooking period over charcoal. The skin was crackly, crispy and had that deep, unmistakable charcoal essence while the juices ran down the stick and along my arms. I sat hunched over among the stones at a temple near my home, a festival raging around me, focused on my fish. It was ridiculously affordable, and in the end it changed my approach to fish. Now, any time I confront an unfamiliar type of fish at the market, as I had while living in Korea and found a package of these long iridescent belt fish, I would grill them, simply, with salt. While using a frying pan sorely lacks the charcoal essence, you're still able to get a decent level of crispiness to the skin and the salt brings out the flavor in the fish without burying it in unnecessary extravagance. The method is simply called 塩焼き or shioyaki, salt-grilled. While Korea has taught me to appreciate soups, Japan taught me to enjoy rice and the simple pleasure of a well-seasoned fish.  

And, of course, dessert is always nice, too.

Korea: 청국장 Deadbody Soup! (aka Cheonggukjang)

What is the scariest thing you've ever put into your mouth?

(that's what she said)

There's actually a surprisingly large amount of ethics and consideration that can go into food if you put any thought into it. After all, as anyone who's met a vegan can attest, they've invariably put a lot of time and energy into their diet of choice. Personally, I'm not going to be a vegan, not for any extended period of time in the foreseeable future unless it's as a temporary dietary change, key word being temporary. I'm not terribly shy about putting weird and potentially disturbing things in my mouth in the name of trying new foods, and that adventure led me to eating 청국장 or cheonggukjang. This particular breed of soup has a very pronouncedly pungent odor, sometimes dubbed vaguely reminiscent of "wet socks". So strong is the smell that it's lead to the alternative name of "Dead body soup" after an urban legend cropped up about the notorious smelly soup leading to false accusations of murder. If that doesn't hint to the fact this is some seriously stinky shi*t, I don't know what else to tell you guys. It's made with fermented soybeans, which are also eaten in the form of natto, a mucilaginous dish that has its own notoriety for being famously divisive.

I'm sure the fellow denizens dining in the tiny little restaurant I opted to go to for my helping of this stinky soup were probably less than excited about my decision to order it. It's considered a healthy dish, nourishing to help power you through the depths of winter's chill, but the winter chill also meant that the doors to the small establishment were shut. The stinky little sauna was strongest in my immediate vicinity, but there's no escaping the severity of the stench on this one, not in a space this small. I've eaten this dish in the past and gotten a wretched case of indigestion, but this time through it went without issue. The soup itself is rich in umami with a bleu cheese kind of fermented depth, which I find enjoyable but may not be palatable for some. I've never been one to be put off of a food due to its odor, so the famous smell isn't a problem to me. I know that I'm in a rare camp on that count, and I am grateful.   

For what its worth, I thoroughly enjoyed my meal!

Japan: Urayasu Fresh Market 11-23

My favorite neighborhood fresh market was a brief 10 minute bike ride from my apartment, so I frequented it fairly often. There was always a bounty of beautiful fresh foods! 

Hopping atop my trusty mamachari or "mama's bike", the equivalent of a minivan on two wheels, I'd take advantage of the handy basket and stock up on reasonably priced produce while there.

There was also a small fish market with fresh sushi and prepared fish inside, along with a butcher wrapping packages of meats in cellophane. All your necessary staples were there (as long as you're comfortable with cooking and/or Japanese food), but sometimes unexpected items like grasshoppers or seasonal sweet cakes would appear on the shelves.

Their flowers were among some of the most reasonably priced I encountered; usually around ¥300-700 whereas the somewhat closer Yaoko supermarket's flowers were often twice the price! 

One option that makes shopping in Japan more affordable is to visit stores late in the day or evening, closer to closing time. Fresh things, like sushi, precut vegetables, cut flowers, etc. will get marked down and the later it is, the greater the discount. I've had many a satisfying sushi or sashimi centered dinner for under $10! Of course, the people at the fresh market were so pleasant and friendly, and the prices so reasonable to begin with, that I'd make a point to shop there on my days off as their hours didn't pan out on days I had work. 

San Francisco: Mission Street Farmer's Market

Our first day in San Francisco and fresh off the BART we found ourselves on Mission Street early on a Wednesday morning…evidently the same time that Mission Street converts into an open air farmer's market! Sweet providence! This is the largest farmer's market I've encountered stateside, so it was quite an exciting place for me. It was only natural I had to snap a gratuitous amount of photos between happily sampling the various slices of fruit being handed out.

Photo heavy post ahead!