FIRE AND ICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE

SEEMINGLY, if you think that I have lost my mind and regards to the diversity of this blog somewhere in the frozen land of popsicles, gelato and gelato plus slushy cocktails, here’s a proof that… you’re absolutely correct.  These days, I feel as much desire to be in close proximity to open flames as there is to a screaming baby on an airplane.  Even with evident love for a bowl of hot and slurpable fire, these days I want my dinner to feel as close to a cold shivering shower as it can get, and believe it or not, it can.

Allow me to present evidence from our last two years in New York where we had the pleasure of visiting Fort Lee a few times, aka the better Korean Town just across the Hudson from Upper Manhattan.  Before such trips, I thought I could be happily-ever-after with Manhattan’s functioning K-town with its satisfactory BBQ following an affordable eyelash-extension.  But Fort Lee had ruined such ludicrous fantasy with delicious aggression.  The variety of dishes served there isn’t too different, but with just an extra pinch of much-ness that kicks them from good, to great.  And among which, the glorious mul Naengmyeon was unlike any I’ve ever had.

It means “cold noodle”, but boy is that an understatement.

Apart from dishes with the same claims, mul naengmyeon has kicked the word “cold” to a new level.  Instead of mixing noodles that are cooled after cooking with various sauces, it plunges them into an icy bath of broth made from beef and pickling juice that is chilled to a borderline frozen state.  As I swam my chopsticks through the frosty lake of flavours, I could hear the sound of slushes colliding in a refreshing symphony.  The buckwheat noodles were cold, chewy and slippery, gliding effortlessly into my properly chilled tummy with the savoury and tangy broth, topped with more pickles and thinly sliced pear and cucumber.

It is not a summer dish.  It is the summer dish.

But of course, obviously, Fort Lee is a long way from now.  The other day, with temperature that made me feel like there was a wet sheep wrapped around my neck, I hallucinated on recreating this dish at home just when I saw a box of leftover kimchi.  Hey, we love kimchi, don’t we?  Kimchi is great.  But leftover kimchi can smell like a head of garlic farting in your fridge.  Not particularly fond with such perfume, I decided to do something progressive with it.  So I blended the kimchi with condensed chicken broth then strained through a cheesecloth.  It yielded a savoury and tangy broth with a beautiful orange hue which I reinforced with vinegar and salt.  I then mix the squeezed kimchi with gochujang, grated apples, ginger and toasted sesame seeds to make spicy chili paste (which is a common topping for another type of soup-less cold noodle called bibim naengmyeon).  That, in addition to thinly sliced summer peaches and runny, soft-boiled egg and sliced scallions, made the perfect topping for the ultimate ice-bathed buckwheat noodle.

But wait.  What can make this refreshing indulgent even more perfect?  Well, dousing it with a side of blazing pork fat of course, as in pork belly-skewers marinated in apple juice, soy sauce and ginger, then flash-grilled under the broiler just until charred.  Brushed with a thin layer of toasted sesame oil and sprinkled with flaky sea salt just like how the Korean BBQ does it.  The refreshing, slippery noodles in an icy tangy broth spiced up with chili paste and crunches of fresh peaches, were gliding down joyously with sizzling, dripping pork fat on a stick.

Dude, it’s the best argument a summer can have.

So here’s to the hesitant bunch – that even during a mid-summer evenings with humidity that feels like breathing inside a plastic bag – to whom the idea of having ice crystals floating over the surface of something that looks savory and dinner-like, still doesn’t come as the most familiar solution.  I get it.  Take your time.  Take your sweet, wet ass-time for the moist, hot air of the high summer to dab your sticky skin and fuzzy vision until you feel a steaming rush of tantrum oozing out of every hair follicles on your smothered head.  Then, and then, take a look again on this recipe.

It will warm up to you before the summer ends.