Variation on a Theme: Coconut Hobakjuk (Korean Squash Porridge)

Last year, Mr. C decided to grow at least three varieties of winter squash in our backyard, and by September, we had more than 30 squashes to tide us over through the winter season. It was rare that friends left our home without a giant butternut squash flung over their shoulder, or that we weren't making yet another squash dish with cloves, ginger and nutmeg. We even gave some massive specimens to an elementary school, and in return, we received letters from three classes of third graders thanking us and asking questions about the squash. My personal favorite: What would happen if you put a lot of dynamite in the middle of the butternut squash? Believe me, there were points last winter when I asked myself the same question.

A representative sampling of last year's squash crop.

It is now March, and we still have a bit of butternut squash and some fairytale pumpkins looking painfully out of place next to our sprouting vegetable seedlings. In the spirit of spring cleaning, I thought I would try to make something out of the squash without resorting to using "pumpkin" spices.

Hobakjuk is a Korean squash porridge and requires very few ingredients - just sweet dark orange winter squash, water, sweet rice flour, sugar and salt. In addition, it requires quite a bit of discipline (you'll see). Coconut milk adds a little more richness to this very straightforward and filling soup.
















Coconut Hobakjuk (adapted from Maangchi)

Rice flour balls:
- 2 cups sweet rice flour; keep extra flour on hand
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 3/4 cup hot water
- Time and/or friends

Soup:
- 4 1/2 - 5 pounds butternut squash or similar sweet dark orange winter squash
- 4 cups water
- 1 5.41 ounce can of coconut milk
- Salt to taste (I used 3 scant teaspoons)
- Sugar or other sweetener (such as agave nectar, honey, barley malt or molasses) to taste (I used about 3 tablespoons of barley malt and 1 tablespoon of sugar) 

To make rice flour balls: 
Boil about a cup of water. Add 3/4 cup of hot water to sweet rice flour and salt and thoroughly stir. After the dough cools a little bit, knead the dough for a minute or two, until flour is incorporated and a dough ball is formed (splash on a little more hot water if the dough seems too dry). Wrap dough ball in plastic wrap and let it rest for 20 to 30 minutes. Keeping the dough securely wrapped in plastic keeps it from drying out too quickly.

Before making the rice balls, thoroughly wash your hands. This is an important step, because you will be handling the dough with just your hands and this dough will pick up the tiniest lint off of your hands. Keep the dough covered in plastic wrap, but leave enough room open so you can access the dough at one end.

Are you in your comfy kitchen spot? Do you have some music playing or a friend nearby? This is important, do not skip this step. I listened to jangly alt-country songs and wistfully stared out of my sunny kitchen window while working through the dough. Trust me, find someone who will keep you company and help you. 

Once you are ready, pinch off a bit of dough and roll between your palms to form a small ball. It's up to you how small (or big) you want to make the balls, but I recommend a size hardly bigger than a chick pea.

Put the completed ball into a bowl with about 3 tablespoons of sweet rice flour. Every so often, use your hands and stir the balls, making sure to coat them evenly with the flour.

This is what I had after one hour:

And done in about two hours, after contemplating the universe:

To make the soup: 
Wash squash. Cut squash into large chunks and place in a large pot. Pour about three or four cups of water into the pot, cover and bring to a boil. Simmer for about 30 minutes, or until squash is tender. Remove squash to baking sheet to cool; discard water. Cut or peel off squash skin and discard. (Alternative method: wash squash, cut off or peel skin, place squash in large pot with three or four cups of water and simmer for 30 minutes, or until squash is tender). 

I used a mix of butternut squash and fairytale pumpkin.

Place peeled squash into pot and add about four cups of water and coconut milk. Using an immersion blender, puree soup thoroughly. (Alternative method: transfer portions of squash to blender or food processor to puree and return to pot; stir in water and coconut milk). Bring soup to a simmer and season with salt and sugar (or other sweetener), to taste.

*As an aside: I think it is really important that you keep tasting the soup to see if it tastes good to you. We are all different in terms of how we gauge sweetness and saltiness. Add salt and sweetener a little bit at a time, and pretend you are Goldilocks: you are looking for the spoonful that is just right.

Add sweet rice balls to soup and continue to simmer, stirring regularly. The rice balls will initially sink to the bottom of the pot and might stick, so you should let your spoon gently scrape the bottom of the pot every so often. The soup will be done when the rice balls float to the surface and are soft and chewy. Serve hot.

Rule #2: Be brave.

This is not a post about overcoming food phobias and eating "weird" foods, nor is it about using a dangerous cooking technique. It is about making things right when things have gone terribly wrong. 

Last weekend, Mr. C gave me the task to make an amazing three-course meal for less than fifty dollars. I came up with a menu of cream of asparagus soup, porkchops with orange fennel slaw, some sort of potato side dish, and this obscene deconstructed banoffee pie sundae.

The "some sort of potato side dish" was clearly an afterthought. I took three potatoes, peeled them, and then proceeded to boil them. When I thought they were done, I took them out of the water and let them cool. A good ten minutes later, I came back to check on them and found they were still raw in the middle.

I placed the potatoes in a stainless steel pot, doused them with olive oil, salt and pepper, and turned up the gas. I was trying in vain to make a certain somebody's shaky pot potatoes from memory. I shook the pot around with the lid on, hoping some magic would occur. I lifted the lid and found three brutalized potatoes on the verge of burning.

Begrudgingly, I called Mr. C into the kitchen for an opinion. At that point, I didn't have the heart to try and save the dish. Mr. C made the assessment that the potatoes could be salvaged, and with my permission, he went about bringing them back to life as potato cakes, breaded and fried in a deep bath of browned butter.

There are at least two things to take away from this story. First, butter will nearly always save you in a time of need. Second, a little TLC and a fresh perspective goes a long way in making something good out of a bad situation.

Rule #1: Make with love.

I am the worst cook when I am cooking for myself.

I will, under no circumstances, truss a whole chicken, knead dough, dredge morsels through flour, or cook anything taking over fifteen minutes when I am dining alone. On the other hand, a dinner for myself and my husband, a dish for a potluck, or hosting a family gathering will propel me into an elaborate frenzy to impress even the most unadventurous eater. What is it that makes it okay for me to eat a microwaved burrito in the company of a computer screen? Or throw together the laziest salad of romaine with some Caesar dressing dumped on top? What makes it so easy to cook without love when I am the only one eating?

Make with love. It’s a really simple rule, but one that is so easy to forget when I am ravenous, busy or distracted. It is easy to take out your frustrations while cutting a perfectly innocent carrot, and end up with orange bits strewn on the floor and worse, the most misshapen cuts floating in your soup. Whenever I have cooked “angry,” my husband can detect it immediately. The flavors don’t coalesce, and it just looks rough around the edges. At that point, I am cooking and eating merely for sustenance, without quality or joy.

So I’m working on it. Conscious cooking, if you will. I am taking baby steps: reading a recipe the entire way through first before cooking, measuring out all my ingredients, carefully washing and cutting vegetables, and letting the hours pass in the kitchen. It is as much about discipline as it is about devotion. I know it will take me several years, if not decades, to make a baguette that is at once crusty and chewy. I accept that I will fail several times before I masterfully cook a pork chop. It will take all of my concentration to make a sandwich that I will enjoy to the last bite.

On the same note, I haven’t written for myself in over a decade. I used to really believe in the idea that you have to live a little before you can write. I am not really sure how I feel about that mantra now, since there is so much about my experiences thus far that I haven’t really taken the time to reflect upon. Much like how my own kitchen is a space for me to explore, learn and reflect on the many meals I have cooked, this blog is a place for me to do the same while thinking out loud. It is an indulgent act, to set about writing for oneself, but necessary to remember who I am and where I’ve been.