Kimchi Chige, veganized

When I taught in Seoul, I lived in a neighborhood known as Munjeong-dong. The school where I taught was probably about a mile away. Every day, I hoofed it there and back. Just down the road from our apartment was a little restaurant. It was a Kimbap Iagi. This was a chain, and I suspect it was also a franchise operation. Anyway, a lady ran it with her husband.

I didn't speak much Korean (hello, please give me beer, where's the bathroom, thank you, no meat. . . the important stuff). Still, I went into this restaurant at least a few days a week for lunch or dinner. The food was cheap and delicious.

In Korean, the respectful way of addressing an older woman is "ajuma." (Think ma'am.) Anyway, my former roommate, Hallie, once noticed that this woman didn't particularly enjoy being called "ma'am," as the term does specifically refer to older women. So Hallie substituted "uma," or "Mom." After that, she and I both referred to her as "Mom." "Mom was a beautiful, wonderful lady who knew that we were all far away from home. She took us under her wing. Some days, it was an extra bowl of kimchi. Other days, she'd bring out a fried egg. Occasionally, I'd bring her a bouquet of flowers just because they were so pretty in the florist's shop and I didn't have anyone else to give them to. On my last day in Korea, she gave me my dinner for free. I ordered kimchi chige.

Kimchi chige is a spicy stew based on kimchi. It's served boiling hot (it's literally still bubbling when it arrives at the table). Traditionally, it contains a bunch of pork and perhaps little mussels. Mom figured out that I didn't eat them, so she stopped putting them in. The results were delicious. Mom (and Pop, her husband) both figured out that I could handle spice better than most of the waygooks they knew. In all honesty, I could handle it better than a number of Koreans who I knew.

During a time period in which I ate kimchi chige about four times a week, I noticed that it seemed to be getting spicier and spicier. I thought it was my imagination until one day, I glanced up as I was taking my first bite. Mom and Pop were both peeking around the kitchen door to watch me eat. I could read their thoughts. . . "Is it going to be too hot for her?" Nope, it wasn't.

If you don't like fire, this probably isn't the dish for you. It's also a bit smelly (not quite as smelly as doenjang chige, though, which is full of Korean soybean paste), so turn your fan on.

This recipe is based on a few that I've looked at, plus my memory of the dish. I tried it for the first time with chrysanthemum leaves and enjoyed it, but if you can't find them, don't sweat it.

You'll need the following:
2 T. canola oil
2 cloves of garlic, minced (or more)
a jar of kimchi, drained and cut into bite-sized chunks (read the label to make sure it's fish-free!)
1 T. of Korean chili powder (cayenne might work if you can't find it)
2-4 c. water or veggie broth
a handful of shiitake mushrooms (fresh or fully reconstituted, whole or sliced)
a packet of firm tofu, cubed
a small bunch of baby leeks, sliced (use scallions if you can't find them)
a bunch of chrysanthemum leaves
salt and pepper
kochu jang if you happen to have it lying around

Begin by draining the kimchi. Reserve the juice. Put the scoop of chili powder in with the kimchi. 

 Heat the oil over medium in a soup pot. Heavy-bottomed is best, but I didn't have one. Add the garlic, and stir until fragrant. (Did you remember to put the fan on?)

When it's starting to get soft, dump in the kimchi and chili powder. Stir well until it starts to get sticky.

Add the reserved kimchi juices and the broth. 

Let that bubble for awhile while you take a handful of chrysanthemum leaves and wash them. Pull off the tough stems.

Put the chrysanthemum leaves, baby leeks, mushroom, and tofu into the pot. 

Taste to check for seasoning (add more water if you need it). You might need salt or pepper, you might want more chili powder or a blob of kochu jang. 

Best enjoyed with a bowl of rice and some yummy yellow turnip pickles if you can find them.