desperance

Kimchi crudo, people. I cannot yet say with any degree of certainty how well it's going to keep - only time can tell that, and time may not get much of a chance - but after forty-eight hours of sitting at room temp, I am here to tell you that it is fucking gorgeous.

It is distinctly crudo - it lacks the layering and sophistication of even commercial Korean kimchi - but if flavours of salt and garlic, a lovely textural crunch and a fierce biteback are paramount, then I have achieved paramouncy. I have filled a two-pint jar, and eaten the little that was left, and oy. It's not too hot to eat, which was a worry; it is delightfully zingy. And salty, and garlicky, and crunch. Now I really really want a plate of fried rice and a couple of eggs, to see how that-all marries up.

And I really, really wish I had documented the process, because even after just a couple of days it's hard to remember what I did, and I want to do this again.

One Chinese cabbage, chopped into two-inch slices, scattered with a handful of sel gris and set in a colander above a bowl, with a plate atop and two pints of hand-of-buddha vodka (in a jar!) on top of that, to weight it down.

Overnight, that leached out a lot of water. I didn't rinse the cabbage, because I wanted to keep the salt.

I whizzed up a lot of red Thai chillies - and I do mean a lot; perhaps half a pound? I shoulda weighed 'em, but I didn't - with a heap of garlic, some ginger and a little rice vinegar into a crude paste with lots of visible chunks of chilli still remaining. Anything else? I don't think so.

Mixed the cabbage into the paste, and left it to stand forty-eight hours in an airtight container. Stirred it once, halfway.

Now it's in a jar, and I'll probably fridge it.