One of six apple trees we planted:
Duchess of Oldenburg
Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world
Rob writes: I’m challenging myself to make stuff I always thought I would make but never did. Today, it’s kimchi. I was attracted to a recipe by a Korean gentleman who wrote about watching his mother make kimchi.
This is a hands-on process that calls for first massaging the salt into the cabbage.
Then a triple rinse to wash off the brine.
Next make the spice paste. Here ginger, garlic, gochugaru, some sugar, and fish sauce.
Stir that around while the cabbage dries a bit more and add the other vegetables, daikon radish and scallions.
Time to put on the gloves, add the cabbage, and massage the paste onto every surface of every ingredient.
Find the recipe here.
To loosen with all ten fingers held wide and limber
And lift up a patch, dark-green, the kind for lining cemetery baskets,
Thick and cushiony, like an old-fashioned doormat,
The crumbling small hollow sticks on the underside mixed with roots,
And wintergreen berries and leaves still stuck to the top, —
That was moss-gathering.
But something always went out of me when I dug loose those carpets
Of green, or plunged to my elbows in the spongy yellowish moss of the marshes:
And afterwards I always felt mean, jogging back over the logging road,
As if I had broken the natural order of things in that swampland;
Disturbed some rhythm, old and of vast importance,
By pulling off flesh from the living planet;
As if I had committed, against the whole scheme of life, a desecration.