I managed to avoid kimchi for the greater part of my life. My mother always had some in the fridge, and it was one of the first aromas that would hit me whenever I opened up the door. This was not a pleasant experience.
Several years back, though, in the heat of the summer, a Korean-Japanese friend of mine named Ko whipped up a huge pot of kimchi chige soup. I thought he had lost his marbles. Who in their right mind would want to eat a steaming bowl of spicy kimchi soup? Ko had worked hard at making it, however, so I asked for a very small bowl. While it was hot and spicy, it was rich in umami and had a lot of depth to it. Beads of sweat congregated on my forehead, but I went back for more. It was almost masochistic, but I was converted. Click here to read the rest of this article.
By Yukari Pratt
photo by: AkumAprime