Stink up the New Year with Tasty Cucumber Kimchee

A dish of kimchee has all the subtlety of an Israeli foray into Gaza. Today, I’m eating some. This isn’t any sort of political stance, yet it is problematic because, as I’ve mentioned, making kimchee at home is forbidden to me.

Capital for, lowercase bidden.

Yet here it is—kimchee. Right on the table. I’ve got the house to myself for 24 hours and this is the vice that whispers most compellingly. By morning, the place should be aired out and nobody will be the wiser.

It’s the smell. That’s what gets me in trouble. Some who make it at home actually keep separate refrigerators (even outside) in which to store these aromatic Korean pickles. Pungent and penetrating, nearly every variety of kimchee—from cabbage to radish—infuses the entire place with garlic and hot peppers. My gumbo and red beans are no strangers to garlic or peppers, but there’s no restriction on them because neither stinks up the place quite the same way. Those don’t ferment, you see. And that’s when the penetrating power of Korean pickles shoulders its way in.

Southern California kimchee lovers with home-pickling injunctions are in luck. While nearly any Korean market has kimchee for those who aren’t allowed or don’t want to make it, Zion Market has dozens (hundreds?) of prepared kimchees for take-out. Every now and again I head there to load up on red pepper paste and threads, cheap sea salt…and stinky-ass contraband.

When I have more than a single day alone, I will occasionally crank out a quick cucumber kimchee nearly identical to the one I picked at Zion along with a dried radish version (in the bowl, above). If all you know is the Napa cabbage type, give this fresh and crisp one a spin.

Cucumber Kimchee (Oi Sobagi)

10 Kirby cucumbers, about 5” long
1 small bunch of green onions (about 5), chopped fine
I entire head of garlic, chopped fine
2 Tbl. fresh ginger, minced
2 Tbl. red pepper threads or 1½ Tbl. New Mexican chile powder
2-3 Tbl. kosher or sea salt (plus extra for salting)
2 tsp white sugar

Wash the cucumbers and trim the blossom end from each. Cut each cucumber down its length almost to the stem end, but not all the way through. Turn the cucumber and make an identical cut at a 90° angle to the first. The cuke should still be held together at the stem end. Rub salt into the cuts and place in a colander to drain for an hour.

Mix the spring onions, garlic, ginger, pepper, and sugar in a nonreactive bowl. Add 2-3 tablespoons of kosher or flaky sea salt to taste (remember: not subtle).

Rinse and drain the cucumbers. Stuff them lightly with the mixture. Pack the stuffed cucumbers carefully into a big glass jar or two. Let ferment at room temperature for at least one day, when they’re begin to sour slightly from the fermentation. Refrigerate once they reach a point of sourness you like, then eat them all within a week.

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Instant Pineapple Pickle

Korean and Indonesian cooking will stop me in my tracks, though I am forbidden from making kimchee at home and, in San Diego, it’s the occasional soto, rendang, or sambal on a supposedly Chinese menu that hint at an Indonesian influence in the kitchen.

At one of our occasional shindigs, both Mama Charlie and Dr. Smokesalot (whose respective mothers are Korean) brought bulgogi for grilling. Some call bulgogi Korean barbecue. I call it a very good night for me. The thin-cut sirloin was marinated in garlic, rice wine, sesame oil, red pepper, soy, sugar, and lords knows what else. Rice was a given.

Last night, with a batch of bulgogi waiting for the grill to heat, I veered off-course and cranked out an Indonesian-inspired pickle to go with the beef. You could just as easily call it a sambal. The recipe is loosely adapted from Rosemary Brissenden’s classic South East Asian Food and is best in the first 24 hours. If you buy your fresh pineapples trimmed and cored, this won’t even take five minutes to throw together.

The stuff goes great with bulgogi, of course, but it turns out also grilled chicken and fish, carnitas, and pork chops. It's lightly salty, kinda pungent, but sweet at the same time. Break open a beer or three while you're at it.

Don’t be scared of the fish sauce; it is an essential foil to the sweetness of the pineapple. I’m tempted to say it’s optional, but if fish sauce skeeves you, eh, just skip the recipe and open a can of pork and beans.

Instant Pineapple Pickle/Pineapple Sambal

One pineapple, peeled, cored, and diced into ½” to 1” chunks, plus all its juice
1 Tbl crushed red pepper*
1-2 cloves garlic, chopped
one ½” piece of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
1 Tbl brown mustard seeds
1 large pinch turmeric
1 tsp coarse grey sea salt
1 Tbl Thai fish sauce
4 oz white vinegar (rice, champagne, or plain ol’ Heinz)

Grind the red pepper, garlic, ginger, mustard seeds, and salt together, using a bit of vinegar if necessary to make a loose paste. Combine the paste with the remaining ingredients in a large mixing bowl.

* I used Crushed Aleppo pepper from Penzey's: hot, slightly oily, but not so pungent that you can't taste that the pepper is actually a fruit.


Goes well with:

• Korean Favorites—Bulgogi, a YouTube video laying out the basics for a marinade. After a rest of a few hours to a day or two, beef prepared like this would be grilled over high heat to give it a hint of char.