The best sigeumchi namul I ever had was during a hurried ten hour stopover in Seoul. My sister and I had just spent a week in Hanoi and were on our way back to San Francisco. Exhausted, we were determined to see — and eat — as much as we could during our day long excursion into the city. Our banchan spread during lunch in a nondescript Insadong restaurant included this spinach banchan. Jet lagged and half asleep, the bright, fresh greens perked me up and fortified me for the precious few hours we had in the city. The rest of the meal was just as good, but that’s another story.
Whenever I eat this simple but delicious spinach dish, I’m transported back to that rainy day in Insadong. This mild banchan comes together in less than 15 minutes. Perfect for when you’re exhausted but hungry.
1. Fill a saucepan halfway with water and bring to a boil. Add the spinach and blanch for 1 minute, then drain in a colander and rinse under cold water to cool. Drain and squeeze out excess water, then chop into 1-inch pieces.
2. Combine the remaining ingredients in a bowl. Add the spinach and toss to coat. Serve or cover and refrigerate for up to 2 days.
I find myself comparing Sri Lankan food to Iranian food all the time as I learn to cook the former. It’s so similar and yet entirely different. Chicken curry is typically associated with South Asian cuisine, but Iranians have khoresh-e kari, a Persian curry that is milder than its South Asian counterparts.
I wondered about the origins of that khoresh as I learned to cook this curry. How did curry make its way to Iran? How did it make its way to Sri Lanka? Where did curry originate? Wikipedia says curry was adopted and anglicised from the Tamil word kari meaning “sauce”, which is usually understood to mean vegetables and/or meat cooked with spices with or without a gravy. I’m fascinated by food, migration, and its intersections.
But back to this chicken curry. It’s easy to cook and reheats wonderfully. Served alongside rice and some pickled vegetables or yogurt, it makes a satiating meal.
1. Place chicken in a bowl with curry powder, cayenne powder, and vinegar. Mix well and set aside for at least 2 hours and up to overnight in the refrigerator.
2. In a large pot, heat oil. Add onions, ginger, garlic, curry leaves, lemongrass, cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon. Saute until onions are golden brown.
3. Add chicken pieces, stirring occasionally until chicken is browned.
4. Add 1/2 cup water to the bowl that contained the chicken and mix to catch any remaining marinade and add to the pot. Lower heat to medium, cover, and cook for 20 minutes, being careful not to burn the chicken and adding a little more water if necessary.
5. Stir in coconut milk and salt to taste and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes.
Parippu is to Sri Lankan cuisine as adasi is to Iranian cuisine. They’re both lentil stews, but the difference is all in the seasonings.
I grew up with adasi, redolent with garlic, onions, turmeric, and angelica powder. These days, I’ve developed a taste for parippu, which soaks up the flavors of coconut milk, lemongrass, curry leaves, and chiles. This is comfort food at its finest. Best of all, it tastes even better the next day.
Ingredients:
1/2 pound red lentils
2 cups water
1 onion, chopped
2 green chiles, sliced
2 cloves garlic, sliced
1/8 teaspoon pandanus/pandan leaf extract (optional)
2-inch stalk lemongrass
1 cinnamon stick
1 cardamom pod
1 clove
1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
1/2 cup coconut milk
salt
1 sprig curry leaves
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
2 dry red chiles
1. Wash and drain lentils.
2. Bring water to a boil in a medium pot. Add lentils, half of the onion, green chiles, garlic, pandanus extract, lemongrass, cinnamon stick, cardamom pod, clove, and turmeric. Cover and simmer until lentils are soft, about 25 minutes.
3. Add coconut milk and salt. Cook for an additional 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. In another pan, heat oil for tempering. Saute onions and curry leaves until onions are translucent. Add mustard seeds and dry red chiles. Fry until mustard seeds begin to pop, about 1 or 2 minutes. Pour over lentils and mix well.
Sri Lankan cuisine is under the radar in the U.S. and it’s a shame. I’ve been lucky to taste so many Sri Lankan dishes with Nishan’s family and these days, I’m learning to cook it myself. It’s fiery, vibrant, and the flavors are an amalgamation of Sri Lanka’s history. The rice and curry spreads vary with Tamil dishes, Sinhalese dishes, Muslim dishes, Dutch and British-influenced dishes, and rice and coconut factor into nearly every meal. I could go on forever, but Serious Eats has already written a terrific primer on the cuisine.
The base to many of the curries I’ve been cooking is this roasted curry powder. In practice, it’s usually supplemented with large doses of chili powder and fresh chiles. This curry powder should keep indefinitely in the fridge, but I wouldn’t know. A batch rarely lasts long in our household.
1. Toast each ingredient on a saucepan separately over medium heat, stirring often, until fragrant and lightly browned. Remove from heat, cool, and grind in a coffee grinder. Store in a glass jar in the refrigerator.
Part of what makes Japan so special is the traveler’s ability to hop on a train and be transported somewhere entirely different in just one hour. Before we planned this trip, my friend Karen urged us to take a day trip to Hakone, famous for its hot springs and view of Mount Fuji.
After the train ride into town, we hopped off to explore the Hakone Open Air Museum, which features sculptures on its spacious grounds that blend into gorgeous views of the surrounding valley and mountains. The museum also includes a sizable Picasso collection and a relaxing hot spring foot bath for visitors.
Next it was back to Chokoku-no mori train station and a quick chicken katsudon lunch set before stopping at the Hakone Museum of Photography.
This museum, like the previous one, boasted incredible views of the region, and we soaked it all in over matcha tea and cherry blossom wagashi before heading to Koen Shimo station to board the funicular. Are you keeping track of the stations, yet? Hakone does not play when it comes to diverse transportation.
Our next stop was the Hakone Ropeway, an aerial lift connecting us between Sounzan and Togendai via Owakudani. Owakudani literally translates to “Great Boiling Valley.” Sounds relaxing, right? It’s a volcanic valley with active sulphur vents and hot springs and especially kuro-tamago, or “black egg.” The eggs are hard-boiled in the hot springs, turn black, and smell slightly sulphuric. I passed on the black eggs but bought a bag of smoky dried scallops instead. Souvenirs aside, Owakudani was freezing! Note to future travelers: it’s cold up there. Bring a jacket.
For those keeping track, our next mode of transporation was another aerial lift where we reached the dock at Lake Ashi. At Lake Ashi, we boarded a boat to take us to Hakone town. It was so overcast that Mount Fuji was nowhere to be seen, but the lake was stunning.
After a brief stroll through the side streets of Hakone, we boarded a bus which took us to Hayakawa River. Seriously, do the views get progressively more stunning as the day goes on in Hakone or what? After oohing and ahhing at the river, we strolled over to Hakone Yumoto station, where I grabbed us a snack of inari sushi to hold us over for the train ride back to Shinjuku Station in Tokyo, thus completing our Japanese Public Transportation Extravaganza.
We spent our next and last day in Tokyo enjoying some of our favorite foods, among which include department store sushi. No, I’m not joking. The otoro sushi at Kinokuniya’s food hall in Shinjuku may be the best I’ve ever had. This is the sushi dreams are made of. Sublime and perfect, like butter.
Our last meal on this trip was at Ramen Setagaya in Haneda Airport. We paid at the vending machine and ten minutes later sat down to stellar ramen. In the U.S., ramen of this caliber would garner hour-long waits. In Japan, it’s airport food.
