Tis the season to make kimchi.
“Kimjang” (김장) is one Korean word that isn’t too hard to say, but the meaning is colossal: kimchi-making. Every November, before heavy frost hits, Korean farmers harvest their cabbage — a delicious variety called baechu (배추) here, and “napa cabbage” in English. Biking around the area a few weeks ago, I passed several baechu fields where farmers — many of them elderly men and women — were working, squatting down to cut the cabbage heads, and then stacking them on the back of a high-sided bongo truck.
At Yeongwol community, we planted around 300 baechu as well as other vegetables necessary for good kimchi, such as large white radishes (무), spring onions, and a host of radish-like, leafy plants. Our vegetables, especially the baechu, were on the small side. Bigger and better next year. . . .
We prepared for kimchi-making weeks in advance, starting with the dried chili peppers, bought from our neighbor. As I sat cross-legged on the ground, wiping off and de-stemming the peppers, I felt the traditional quality of the job. Using time-tested methods tied me to the indelible legacy of hard-working Korean housewives since time immemorial. I guess I’m not really linked to such an honorable chain not being Korean or a housewife but, nevertheless, I felt a certain thrill in participating. (The burning tickle in my throat from hot pepper dust served to keep me quietly contemplative throughout.) I won’t bore you with every detail of the kimjang process as it took several days from harvest to storing the finished product in special kimchi coolers. Instead, I’ll let the pictures and captions tell the story. To fully appreciate the art of kimchi-making, learn from a master:
As Mama Park says,
There are as many kimchi recipes as there are mothers in Korea.
She’s right about that. I have the dull taste buds of a foreigner so I won’t pretend to know what makes one kimchi better than another. What I have learned is that a good result requires much more than cabbage and garlic and hot pepper paste: I watched with surprise as special anchovie and vegetable broth, sticky rice porridge, dried and powdered shrimp, and much more were prepared for the Yeongwol Community kimchi.
Kimjang was a cultural experience like none other. And kimchi — a flavor like none other. I recommend pulling on those big pink gloves, and diving in. You’ll smell like garlic and worse for weeks, but you’ll have kimchi with every meal for a year. I’m glad kimjang is over. We all are. As December settles in, the setting sun seems to be glowing through a remnant haze of fiery red pepper dust . . . and our hearts glow with a sense of satisfaction.
…bonus pictures:
One of the first steps after harvesting and halving is to soften the cabbage and begin the fermentation process. It is dunked in salt water and sprinkled with salt. I wondered why an egg was floating in the water and learned that it’s an easy way to measure the salt/water ratio: when the water covers the floating egg except for an area the size of a Korean coin (or something like that), you’ve got the right ratio! But you’ve got to be careful: too much salt and you lose the sweetness of the cabbage. Too little and it will be bland or will rot instead of fermenting as it should.
