The enigmatic Soondo Ki, matriarch of the family, was waiting for us at the door in a colorful ceremonial dress. We greeted each other with a smile and with the same friendly gesture he invited us to come to his house. From Seoul, after three long hours, we had managed to reach Damyang County and its bamboo forests in the south of the country, a rural area surrounded by vegetation everywhere. In the center of the property we find a traditional house, or hanok, with hundreds of jars arranged in rows and columns as if corresponding to an imaginary army organizational chart.
At that time, only three journalists and the guide sent by the Hansik Conference, the gastronomic congress that had brought us together in the capital, made up the meager entourage. Inside we found a long table on which this lady, named grand master of Korean cuisine by her country’s Ministry of Agriculture and Food, had put together a large buffet: pickled and fermented vegetables, crispy fried seaweed cookies with rice, filled dumplings, large raw leaves Vegetables to prepare the typical vegetable rolls (saam), cold cuts, marinated fish, various types of kimchi, pickled fish and numerous sauces with chopped vegetables. And also bowls of deep dark soybeans. Since we didn’t have time for protocols, we toasted as if we were with family and started the tasting with the support of the people from their team.
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It is not easy to analyze Korean cuisine from a Western perspective. Fermentations, so fashionable today in gastronomy, form the soul of an ancient culture full of complex aromas, sour, bitter and spicy notes that are difficult to understand at first glance. Without saying a word, the lady of the house prepared her famous kimchi for us right at the table before lunch. He began smearing a deep red paste onto the leaves of a brine-soaked Chinese cabbage. He spread it over the leaves with his gloved hands and invited us to taste it. “This is the base of kimchi, now these leaves need to slowly ferment,” the Korean guide told us.
“What’s in there?” I asked him again. “Every family has its own mix. There are hundreds of recipes. Essentially, it is a paste made from spices, herbs, fruits, anchovies, garlic and hot peppers, which gives it its characteristic crimson color. Nevertheless, kimchi is not only prepared with Chinese cabbage, but also with many other vegetables, radishes, cucumbers and beets, even with white marinades without any colorings.
Soondo Ki at the table in his home in Damyang County, Korea. Jose Carlos Capel Rivas
Kimchi is not a sauce, but a family pickle with an ancient tradition used to preserve vegetables during the winter months. They are brined, brushed with the marinade and left to ferment for weeks, months or perhaps longer. Its taste develops, kimchi loses its freshness and becomes more ripe,” the tour guide emphasized. “It is a source of vitamins and minerals, an antioxidant and a healthy and dietary food. “The most consumed product in Korea, which we have successfully exported to half the world.”
At this point our experience had only taken the first steps. At the door of the wooden hanok we were in, the traditional Korean house, we were engrossed in contemplating these squat earthenware jars, covered with hats made of the same material and arranged in grids, which remained closed for months or years. Bridging the gap, something equivalent to the Chinese Terracotta Warriors of Xian, an army made of clay.
In the picture two types of paste: “Doenjang” (simply fermented soybeans) and “Gochujang” (with hot red peppers) and soy sauce. Image provided by the company Kisondo.
As my gaze focused on the surroundings, I questioned the air again. What do these glasses contain? “Two types of jangs (thick fermented sauce), a staple in Korean households, the reason for the umami in their dishes,” replied the CEO of the artisan company Kisondo, which has been producing various products using traditional methods since 1970, of which Ms. Soondo Ki is the visible head , his image and his soul. “We make doenjang (simple fermented soybean paste) and gochujang (the same paste with red peppers). The former is used to make soy sauce, which is also produced in China and Japan and achieves exceptional quality in Korea.
What’s the process? I asked him again. “The most important thing when making jang is to ferment the meju before aging it in jars. Meju is made from soybeans that are crushed in a mortar after cooking. This paste is used to form paving stones, tied together with threads and left to ferment in dryers for months. It is the raw material for everything that follows, the doenjang, the gochujang that I mentioned, spices that give flavor and depth to Korean dishes, products that we export all over the world. Always from ingredients grown in Korea.” For his part, Soondo Ki explained in a few words what Yang has been doing for 47 years: “We have to observe 10 processes according to the methods of our ancestors.”
Complex products with deep aromas and flavors, full of umami, that have penetrated haute cuisine around the world, led by Spain and boosted by the growing interest in fermented foods that the Dane Rene Redzepi has focused on in recent years. “Some of our soy sauces are aged in jars for several years. “We capture the taste of the times, something priceless,” the company boss told us as we said goodbye.
Some soy sauces age in jars for years.José Carlos Capel Rivas
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