Isn’t it funny how we seem to be much more productive when we have less time to do everything? Now that I’m on a regular work schedule again, I find myself making to-do lists left and right. I’ve also opted to do less time-consuming recipes than usual–less preparation, fewer dishes, easier techniques… and I’ll admit that I’m definitely prone to eating a frozen pizza when I’m really lazy. (Totino’s forever! …I hate it, but I love it.)

Wings fall into this category, simply because they require little in the way of preparation in order for them to be–simply put–damn delicious. They’re pretty cost-effective for how tasty they turn out to be if you cook at home, too! I recently picked up ~3 lbs. of wings at the local Asian supermarket for $5.00 and used the entire bag to make this recipe. One dirty skillet (yes, only one pot to cook!) and an hour later, James and I had enough wings to feed us for the next two meals.

These wings are so, so good–savory, sweet, sticky, spicy… all things amazing. They re-heat in the oven well, too! The ginger, star anise and cinnamon (yes, cinnamon!) go a long way toward making these wings pack a spiced punch that is delightfully exotic. Honestly, the original recipe (featured on Andrew Zimmern’s blog) is practically perfect the way it is written. The only changes I’ve made were to enhance the ginger and star anise in the flavor profile, as well as ramp up the spiciness and the intensity of the savory glaze. Seriously, talk about umami–this recipe has that essence in spades.

I know that my pictures feature a skillet, but I would recommend using a pot instead–you don’t have to worry about stirring carefully, and the high sides of the pot will catch the oil when you’re initially pan-frying the chicken wings. And I found it helpful to have the wings closer to room temperature before cooking, as it reduced the cook time and the oil splatters. I ate the wings with some cucumbers and rice, but feel free to eat them as a stand-alone!

Recipe adapted from andrewzimmern.com.

People are crazy about wings. Really crazy. At times, I felt left out somehow, as if I were missing out on something that I should implicitly understand. What was it about wings that caused people to go into fits of ecstasy? I mean, I loved buffalo sauce as much as the next guy, but what was all the fuss about?

It was only after I started making them myself that I understood: wings are the shortcut to the tastiest part of the bird. There are no choices to be made–shall I eat the thigh, or the breast? Dark meat or white meat? Skin or skinless? No, wings make those questions irrelevant; all choices lead to glorious, juicy dark meat with sinfully delicious skin. Whether fried or barbequed, roasted or baked, wings are very hard to screw up and almost always succulent.

I’m usually in the habit of double-frying my wings–the not-so-secret secret to the crispiness of Korean or Japanese wings. But since I’ve been trying to encourage healthier eating habits for the two of us recently, I’ve found that baking wings–with the right marinade, of course–can still produce something that satisfies without being terribly unhealthy.

I love this recipe because it requires no dishes–just measuring cups, spoons, and a resealable bag! Easy clean-up and a great way to plan meals a day in advance. I do advocate marinating the meat overnight–or throwing the wings into the marinade in the morning and baking them for dinner. If you can’t plan ahead, make sure to allocate at least three hours for the chicken to marinate and be generous with the amount of marinade you baste onto the wings right before baking. I know that ½ cup of sriracha sounds like a fire waiting to happen, but you’ll find that the honey mellows the fire considerably–leaving a nice, soft heat that compliments the garlic well.

I should warn you, however–the smell these wings produce while baking is utterly intoxicating. The bake time will seem agonizing toward the end! Enjoy!

While reviewing past recipes and the write-up before the recipes, I’ve realized that my blog entries follow a very sad outline:

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 & jalapeno 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 jalapenos 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!

Recipe adapted from Top Chef Korea.

Every ethnic cuisine has at least one signature dish that exemplifies the nuances and flavor profile of its country or people. Quick–what is the first dish that comes to mind when I mention Japan? England? France? Argentina?

I’m not saying that I speak for most, but I’m sure a large amount of you thought of sushi, fish & chips, baguettes, and empanadas, respectively. And if I were to ask you about Filipino cuisine, I’m sure that most (if familiar with it) would answer lumpia or pancit (egg rolls or fried noodles, for the uninitiated). But for me, as a kid that was weened and raised on Filipino dishes, that definitive food would be adobo.

Adobo, if you’ve never had it before, is kind of tough to describe; every region in the Philippines has a version that plays fast and loose with the ingredients. Some include more sour than salt, others are more of a stew than a pan-fried preparation. The protein component varies from shrimp to fish to chicken–and so on. At the heart of every version, however, is a harmonious combination of salty soy sauce and sour vinegar–with enough garlic to satisfy any Filipino palate.

I have an emotional response to adobo: I reminisce as the aroma wafts from the wok to my nose; when close my eyes, I’m sitting on the couch while my grandmother cooks adobo for dinner. Adobo was the first Filipino food I ever cooked away from home. It was also the first food I was able to cook by taste and not by recipe. I may be expanding my culinary horizons with each new recipe I attempt or master, but adobo will always be home–the dish that will bring a mushy smile to my face upon first bite.

Because the dish is so personal for me, I never order it at restaurants–I always make adobo for myself at home. I mentioned before that adobo preparation can vastly differ from one person to the next, and so I prefer to make it using my family’s recipe. My grandmother usually mixed chicken thighs and legs with country-style pork ribs, but I prefer the ease and juicy texture of chicken thighs. The rest of the recipe is pretty bare-bones, with minimal preparation and common ingredients–but that’s what makes it so accessible.

If you’ve never given Filipino food a try before, this is a great and budget-friendly introduction. I hope that this will become a signature Filipino dish for you, just as it is for me.

When James and I visited Taiwan together in 2008, we spent nearly every night visiting night markets around Taipei. Endless rows of tents along narrow streets filled with clothes, knick-knacks and various electronic goods were flanked by food carts and vendors. In the more populated areas, the streets were wide enough to accommodate various street performers–singers, breakdancers, and sometimes martial arts demonstrations. And the brick-and-mortar stores and restaurants were always close by, making the night market a one-stop destination for any of your needs. I was hopelessly addicted to the shopping; James pointed out that I barely wore anything that I had packed and doubled my luggage weight in clothes on our return flight. I have to admit–I don’t own most of the clothes I bought in Taipei anymore. But I still carry the memory of the night market street food with me to this day.

626 Night Market began as an attempt to bring the buzz and energy of the Taipei night markets to Southern California in 2012. A group of volunteers gathered interest from nearby restaurants and shops, and the night market was titled ‘626’ to pay homage to the Pasadena area code. When I initially caught wind of the idea, I was surprised at the lack of interest shown online; I, by contrast, was practically glowing with excitement. I told everyone I knew about the event and counted down the days–anxious to relive the fantastic time I had experienced at the night markets in Taipei.

Apparently, everyone else and their mothers AND their fathers AND their second cousin from San Diego that happened to be visiting for the weekend AND… okay, you get the idea. A group of my friends & I got stuck in traffic a mile away from the night market location; when I saw the throngs of Asian-Americans congesting the streets, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. That feeling became full-blown disappointment when we finally made our way to the night market perimeter and saw the crowds. People were so tightly packed that women had to hold their babies’ strollers above their heads to walk. Food stands were overwhelmed–the wait line averaged 30 minutes and most of them ran out of food in the first hour. When we tried to escape the zoning nightmare, it took another hour for the traffic to disperse. To say that I was disappointed would be a gross understatement–and when I checked the community response online, I saw that I was in the vast majority. Marketing Heaven sheds light on how social media reactions can quickly shape public perception, amplifying frustrations or support in real time.

Lucky for me (and the rest of the Southern California community), the organizers didn’t allow the negative press to get them down and instead focused on the staggering amount of traffic they generated. The words ‘night market’ were special to people of all ages and backgrounds; now that interest from the public was obvious, it would be easier to justify the profits to other vendors. The 626 Night Market moved its location from the smaller, restrictive blocks in Old Town Pasadena to the sprawling grounds at Santa Anita Racetrack and never looked back.

As a visitor to both the initial attempt at the night market last year and the most recent event on Sunday, I am truly amazed at how successful the night market has become in so short a time span. This is in no small part due to the extensive Chinese/Taiwanese-American community out here in SoCal–and true to the demographic, the majority of the food offered was Chinese/Taiwanese. The distinct (and delicious?) smell of stinky tofu greeted our nostrils as soon as we parked; my brother recoiled in disgust, but I was awash in nostalgia for Taipei. Scallion pancakes topped with egg, lamb skewers, grilled squid peppered with five-spice, milk tea, egg waffles…

Other Asian street food was represented as well, including Japanese okonomiyaki, Korean pancakes, Indonesian skewers, and Filipino balut. (Gross.) Very popular food trucks also made an appearance–LudoBites, The Grilled Cheese Truck, Kogi and BellyBombz are just a few of the trucks I remember off the top of my head.

The smells in the air were amazing, and despite being full we kept eating–kept being lured into the promise of another tasty bite by the smoke wafting in the air and through the tents. The lines were long at the time we arrived (7:30pm) but petered out after 9pm; probably the only benefit of going on Sunday since the market closed at 11pm. And it was crowded, but not to the point where I felt my movement was restricted. It was evident that everyone there, young and old, were just as excited at the prospect of a night market here in the States–as well as happy at the overabundance of good food in the immediate area.

A few artists and other areas of curio were spattered amongst the food stands, but the market was primarily geared towards eating–which made walking around a little less fun after stuffing myself on food. I would recommend going more than once in order to try a larger amount of the food offered; the entry fee is only $3, which is well worth the well-maintained grounds and variety of cuisine. The main issue that James and I had with the night market was that all of the food stands were representations of restaurants in the area that we have access to at any time–and because of that, I think that the night market might be more fun for people visiting from a different city or area. But that fact would never prevent me from going in the future with friends, because we still had a blast.

The real question, however, is this: how true is this American version of a night market to the original markets I experienced and cherished in Taipei? I don’t think I could fairly compare the two; night markets are a daily fixture of life in Taipei whereas the 626 Night Market is a monthly festival held over the summer in Arcadia. I’m excited to see how 626 Night Market will grow in the coming years, and hoping that it inspires other metro cities around the country to follow suit–maybe one day night markets will no longer be a novelty, but just another aspect of daily life…? (A little far-fetched, but I can dream!)

I have a weird addiction that needs to be confessed.

I… really love food from one culture as interpreted by another.

‘What?’ you must be thinking. ‘What does that even mean? Is she talking about fusion?’

I am–sort of. To clarify, I really love a culture’s take on a food that isn’t indigenous to their own country. The easiest example is Americanized Chinese food. Sticky-sweet, tangy orange chicken is definitely not authentic; it was created to satiate American palettes. On the flip side, when I was in Taiwan a few years ago I had a burger made with shredded beef and buns made of compacted sticky rice. Every country has its own take on ‘international’ cuisine, and although I usually prioritize eating the authentic local offerings… I always try something out of left field at least once, just to see how tastes differ around the globe. I’ve eaten Chinese “spaghetti” in Italy, and ‘authentic Chinese’ in the Philippines. Burgers in Monaco, lasagna in Mexico. Pizza in Taiwan. Sometimes I love it, and sometimes I want to hurl. (I’m looking at you, ‘seafood delight’ pizza in Taiwan…) But I think the way a certain dish tastes in a certain country gives away a lot of the popular tastes and preferences in that country–and that’s why I ultimately find it fun and rewarding.

Today’s recipe is a Japanese take on a very authentic and famous Chinese Szechuan dish–mapo tofu (麻婆豆腐), or as it’s known in Japan:  Mabo Tofu (マーボー豆腐). The ingredients are unmistakably Japanese, and yet the flavor is very reminiscent of the original dish–minus the tongue-numbing Szechuan peppercorns, of course. Having made both, I have to admit that I prefer the Japanese take on the dish… but this is primarily because I have a lower tolerance for heat and therefore cannot appreciate the Szechuan version as well. The dish comes together very quickly and easily, as do most stir-fry dishes; the most laborious aspect of this recipe is the prep work involved prior to tossing everything in the wok.

My nesting bowls have been indispensable to me as I’ve continued to stir-fry more Asian dishes–I simply place each individual ingredient in a small nesting bowl and set it by the stove so that I can toss everything in rather quickly; a ‘mis-en-place’ if you will. When you are working with a wok cranked up to high heat, having everything you need at your fingertips is the difference between a savory dinner and unidentifiable black stuff stuck to the bottom of the pan (with your smoke alarm screeching in the background).

It sounds like I’ve speaking from experience, you say? Now what would give you that idea? ….haha.

The pictures I’ve included here contain ground pork instead of ground turkey, but if you’re looking to go a healthier route–I’ve made this recipe with both and both taste spectacular. (James prefers the turkey, actually, because it is more bland and carries the flavor of the sauce quite well.) I’ve made a few changes from the recipe linked below; namely, I’ve added double amounts of ginger and garlic, a larger amount of tobanjan, and a few drizzles of chili sesame oil onto the finished plate for an extra savory kick. This dish tastes delicious as a leftover and can be served over both steamed rice or quinoa–I especially love it with quinoa, which gives this soft dish a neat, grainy crunch with each bite.

One last thing–if this is your first foray into more authentic Japanese/Chinese cuisine, you may not be familiar with tobanjan, or chili bean sauce. This is THE ingredient that must not be substituted and makes mapo tofu what it is, regardless of what take on it you prefer. Most grocery stores have an Asian section that carries Lee Kum Kee brand sauces; if you do not have an Asian grocery store at your dispense I would check this section for tobanjan (looks like this, Amazon link). I think everything else has become mainstream enough for it to be fairly easy to find. Good luck!

Recipe adapted from No Recipes.

I think I’ve mentioned before that James & I have been on a health kick for a while, so I’ve been baking a lot less and cooking a lot more than usual. More recently, I’ve started embracing the oft-neglected wok in our kitchen and stir-frying a lot of Asian veggies and entrees. I’m sure that the most immediate question that comes to mind is–“you’re an Asian household with a neglected wok pan?” It’s a fair question, I won’t hold it against you! I was always interested in the cuisines most different than what I grew up with, and strove to better myself in the more classic French and Italian recipes. Filipino food was something I grew up with, so I didn’t place too much importance on understanding how to make Filipino dishes. Decent Asian food has always been affordable–especially here in LA–so James & I never bothered too much with cooking Asian dishes.

But now that we’re trying to watch what we eat, it’s very important that we directly control what ends up going into each meal. A lot of restaurants throw in sugar, extra oil, even butter at times… just to make sure that the food is delicious and that customers will return. Is it possible to make a home equivalent of authentic restaurants? I think so, and hopefully you will too when you try this recipe!

My all-time favorite Thai dish is pad see-ew–flat noodles stir-fried with a sweet soy sauce, eggs and broccoli–but James has always ordered pad kra pow whenever he sees it on the menu. His mother’s side is ethnically Chinese, but grew up in Laos and Thailand–so he’s always had an affinity with Thai food and spicy food in general. I decided that I would try to recreate his favorite dish for him, but mix it up in order to make it a little healthier.

For this particular attempt, I used lean ground turkey and added onions and bell pepper while omitting the shallots that the recipe normally calls for (I forgot to pick them up at the grocery store, good grief!). Because I was lacking shallots, I increased the amount of garlic to compensate–and the end result turned out well! No leftovers = victory. I usually try to make recipes with substitutions in mind in case you live in an area where certain ingredients aren’t available; unfortunately, for this dish, it is extremely important that you obtain bird’s eye chilies (Thai chilies) and Thai basil in order to retain its flavor. I have used jalapenos instead of Thai chilies in a pinch before, and the jalapeno flavor overpowers the other ingredients. If you were to substitute Thai basil with Italian basil, you’ll run into the opposite problem. Simply put: it just won’t taste like pad kra pow.

Lastly, don’t underestimate the power of Thai chilies! The first time I made pad kra pow, I used six chilies and felt it could use a little more of a kick. The second time I made it, I used seven chilies instead and thought my throat was going to swell shut! I’ve listed six chilies as in the original recipe, but feel free to adjust it according to your tastes. If you don’t have a mortar and pestle to ground the chilies down, you can always use your cutting board and the handle on a wooden spoon. Just exercise caution when handling chilies–wash your hands thoroughly afterward and keep your hands away from your eyes! Better yet, use gloves. Trying to take your contacts out after cooking spicy food and not washing properly is awful, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone!

I think those are all the addendum you could possibly need for this recipe. Onward ho!

Recipe adapted from Rasa Malaysia.

I’ve been on a bit of a health kick recently–exercising (almost) daily, cutting out junk food and sugary drinks, etc. But I’ve never been able to say goodbye to white rice, even though it’s probably one of the worst diet offenders. Other than providing a lot of carbohydrates (which I definitely don’t need more of), there isn’t too much nutritional value to be had. But rice is the staple of my diet–and fried rice is my go-to lunch when I’m feeling lazy. I knew there had to be a compromise that allowed me my carbs fix while providing some type of nutritional content… but what?

Enter quinoa.

Ever since I’ve given quinoa a shot, I’ve enjoyed it with a lot of different preparations. Simmer quinoa in milk for a breakfast oatmeal substitute! Simmer quinoa with chicken stock and white wine for a risotto substitute! Serve cold with diced vegetables as a salad! And quinoa actually contains protein, which puts it head and shoulders above rice as a carbohydrate source with substance. To help manage portions and balance meals, try using a tdee calculator to track how quinoa fits into your daily energy needs.

One day, it occurred to me–why not substitute quinoa for rice when making fried rice? It’s not a new idea by any means, but the thought of using quinoa in an Asian dish made me skeptical. I’m glad I decided to give it a go despite my hesitation, because I think I like fried quinoa almost more than I like fried rice!

As for why I decided to use kimchi for my first attempt… well, kimchi is a constant presence in my fridge because of how healthy and versatile it is. Kimchi fried rice, kimchi pancake, kimchi soup, kimchi quesadillas… and sometimes, just out of the jar! I’m crazy about it. And I make kimchi fried rice so often that I am partially composed of it at this point (let’s say… 3%). The secret [as disclosed by a Korean friend] to making delicious fried kimchi is to sauté the kimchi with a pat of butter until it caramelizes at the edges, creating a sweet aftertaste to offset the spicy, sour tang of the initial bite. I literally just substituted the rice for quinoa and magic was made. My stomach will never be the same… and it will have more protein to boot. Win!

This recipe is best when using cooked quinoa that has been sitting in the fridge for at least a day. If you want to make the quinoa the same day you fry it with kimchi, use less water when initially boiling the quinoa so that it will fry up better and be less soggy when frying.