(What’s on the list, you ask? Homemade pho and Taiwanese beef noodle soup, among other things. But those are other recipes for other entries!)

Magic mushrooms have been on the list since before the list existed, however, and I’m glad I was finally able to deliver with a version all my own.

Magic mushrooms are our favorite appetizer from Hapa Sushi, which is a fusion/nouveau-type sushi restaurant in the Metro Denver area. Whenever we visit Denver, we go to Hapa and order this appetizer without fail. However, it’s been well over half a year since the last time we’ve managed to patronize this sushi joint–so I only had my memories as reference. If you’re a Denver native or you’ve eaten at Hapa before, you’ll have to tell me whether I’ve managed to create a worthy copycat recipe, okay?

I would advise you to make sure you have a nice, sharp knife before attempting to make these; a dull knife won’t be able to create the thin slice necessary for the rolling of the salmon around the avocado. Additionally, this recipe requires vigilance: you can’t really walk away from any of it while it’s cooking. There’s not really much I can offer in the way of a shortcut other than buying the sweet soy sauce (or unagi sauce) at the store instead of making it yourself–but the consistency will be thinner.

Even if these mushrooms taste nothing like the ones at Hapa, I still think they’re pretty damn tasty. You’ll be dismayed at how quickly they disappear relative to the amount of work it takes to make them–but hey, you’ll get credit for being an awesome cook, so all’s well that ends well!

1. Kris used to think ________ was icky! What a travesty.
2. (soul-searching paragraph)
3. And now she doesn’t. Yay ________!

Today, we are tackling pickles–which I also disliked for a long time. But since I seem to have disliked everything when I was growing up (ha), I’m going to skip over that fact and talk about how amazing Korean food is instead!

My first and dearest experience with Korean food was at a little joint called San Chang in Colorado Springs when I moved there in 1999. I had tried “Korean” food before at Pan-Asian restaurants around Delaware as a child, but not like San Chang. What were these funny grills doing in the middle of the table? Why were there so many vents? And why were there so many versions of pickled vegetables in tiny plates?

It wasn’t until I befriended Korean-American classmates at college that I learned the magical name of these vegetable dishes–banchan. But I loved banchan from the start, and often stuffed myself on it before the main course arrived at the table. My favorite banchan involved radishes in various forms: julienned, cubed, sliced, and so on, pickled in so many delicious ways. I loved the cool, crisp crunch of the radish and the subsequent explosion of pickling juice that would follow with each bite. They were a sharp, effective palate cleanser to the salty savoriness of galbi or the sweetness of bulgogi. Ever since that first magical visit, I’ve been a fan of Korean food and flavors… and most importantly, pickles!

James linked this pickled radish & jalapeño recipe to me while I was in the Philippines, so I gave it a go when I came back to LA and was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to make. I tweaked the ratio of sugar and jalapeños because we prefer our pickles a little spicier and less sweet, but feel free to play with the ratio according to your preferences. I also chopped the radish rather coarsely because we are radish fiends–but you can make smaller slices if you wish, especially if you’re using the pickling juice as a sauce for meat. Either way, I hope you give this very simple recipe a try–whether you’re a banchan fan like me or looking to spice up the condiments at your dinner table. You won’t be disappointed!

I started making Three Cup Chicken a few years ago, but every recipe I found was just a wee bit off from that first magical bite I had some years ago… too sweet, too bland, too salty! Pretty silly for a recipe that is quite literally named Three Cup for a reason: one teacup of soy sauce, one teacup of rice wine, one teacup of sesame oil. But after tinkering around recently, I’ve settled on this recipe that I’ve been able to consistently reproduce. Yay!

Velvet-ing the chicken, or breaking down the muscle fibers in the chicken to create a more “velvet” texture, isn’t usually necessary for thighs since they’re more tender than breasts. However, I really loved the softness of the chicken and the flavor that the marinade imparts, so I incorporated that into my version. Other than the “cups” for the sauce and the aromatics, the spice and sweetness of the dish can be easily adjusted to your taste preferences.

The only ingredient I have to insist you do not substitute is Thai basil. Italian basil won’t create the sharp, aromatic flavor that contrasts so well with the sweetness of the sauce. Use it if you must, but know that the chicken will taste far from authentic if you substitute the basil.

Being able to recreate a popular dish from James’ ethnic homeland makes my heart happy! I hope this easy recipe encourages you to not only try making it, but to try other Taiwanese food as well.