The recipe, which is in the book, calls for an electric blanket, more than a gallon of salt and hay it takes almost a year to complete. There, she practices the slow and ancient art of fermenting, making gochujang (chile paste) and doenjang (soybean paste), an umami-rich flavor element pervasive in Korean cooking, similar to Japanese miso. She shares the apartment with David Seguin, a web developer at The New York Times, whom she married in 2009. Now, she lives and shoots her videos in a compact apartment perched above the frenzy of Times Square, where the view from her kitchen window includes a giant hand pointing down to Madame Tussauds Wax Museum. To her, building a community online was a natural extension of her life. Later, she worked as a counselor for (and cooked for) Korean-American families who had suffered through domestic abuse. In the Midwest, she led expeditions in search of Japanese or Chinese restaurants (at that time, she said, she did not know of any Korean restaurants in the entire region). Kim first came to the United States in 1992 with her husband, an academic who emigrated to take a teaching job in Columbia, Mo., and she has since been at the center of every group of Korean expatriates she has been part of. “I have the taste from growing up in Korea.” “They have to follow the taste of Americans, and the Korean-Americans,” she said. Kim believes, is the problem with virtually every Korean restaurant in the United States: The food is sweeter, saltier, less spicy, less fishy and less rich with umami than it should be. This is a phrase she often repeated to the editors of her cookbook when they quailed at including recipes for fermented sardines, jellyfish salad and kelp stock. “Otherwise I will hear about it from the Koreans.”
“I have to do everything correctly,” she said.
Kim is first and foremost a teacher, and a strict one at that. She writes the Korean characters on a whiteboard, wearing magenta gloves encrusted with fake bling.Īlthough she presents herself as girlish and lighthearted, Ms. In her kaleidoscopic wardrobe of tiaras, leatherette shorts and fascinators (and four-inch platform shoes to lift her up to the camera), she demonstrates the endless variations of kimchi and schools her viewers in the proper pronunciation of dishes like soegogi-muguk (pronounced SAY-go-gee moo-GUHK), beef and radish soup.
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