It would be easy to think that we're all currently in the process of sinking into an alternative reality. There aren't many people on the planet who could claim to that the first four months of 2020 have gone as expected, so for me to write about that being the case for me wouldn't exactly be revolutionary. Though, how many people can say that without mentioning the COVID-19 outbreak? Probably quite a few still. However, I do sincerely get the feeling that the guy calmly throwing up in a public bin at Surrey Quays overground station, just after midnight on New Years Day had no inkling whatsoever about the way non-medical events would contort around him. That potentially feels like an overstatement, but I'm still pretty raw at the moment from the most recent divergence.
A couple of months ago, I was scrolling through a PhD database at my work desk (not unlike my tendency to write for the blog while on the clock). I'm not going to provide the details of the project I found as it will be ongoing for a next few years, but let's just say that it seemed so tailored to my previous work that I had to read it through a few times just to ensure it wasn't a apathy-induced fever dream. It's a very millennial feeling to progress through life taking the roads that seem the best at the time with no clear signposting; well, for the very first time it seemed my lodestar had revealed itself from behind the clouds.
This isn't to say that I was complacent about the process. I spent a long time putting together an application and a proposal for the project, trying to ensure that I covered all bases. Fortunately, on the basis of this application I was granted an interview, which felt to me like an absolutely unreal turn of events. Just a month prior I had been sitting in an office, thinking that it was too soon after my masters degree to even consider taking on any further research, but here I was and it felt so viscerally right. Naturally, I wanted to prepare as much as possible and so I sequestered myself in my old university library the day before to try and ensure that I had anticipated everything. Though obviously nervous, I was also excited for the interview; I don't think anyone needs to be told just how incredible alien that is.
Although I was trying to tell myself not to get too carried away in my own head, I was certainly being pulled by the stream; it was the day of the interview that breached the walls of the dam. Taking the train from London to Cambridge, seeing the skyscrapers and the concrete expanse (which there is a big place in my heart for) transform into open plains of muted green and unalloyed sky set me to ease. It was as if the train was a submarine, allowing me to be submerged in the waters of wishful thinking. If that were the case, the city itself was an anchor into a future that didn't yet exist. My head weakly fought against it, but I couldn't help being taken by how charming and homely it seemed. I even thought about what coffee shops I'd hang out in and where I'd work to support myself. It's all so embarrassing to write, but I'd put myself in an incredibly vulnerable position.
I walked away from the interview feeling as if it had gone well. I'd had the opportunity to say most of what I wanted, and occasionally even managed to speak with some passion about the topic (yes, I surprised myself even). Not that I thought I'd smashed it, so to speak, but I felt reasonably positive. I was cautiously optimistic, though that particular adverb was quickly replaced by something far less responsible. The feeling of heading towards something that made my chest flutter was infectious, nay, it was virulent and I held on to it with every metaphorical limb I had available to me. This was now reckless optimism.
And so went the following month. It's not like I wasn't aware of the possibility that things wouldn't pan out, but that just didn't factor into my visions of the future. When I thought about the interview, I did still think about the ways that it could have been improved, and how the other candidates fared. But when I thought about September, any practically minded considerations just melted away. The coronavirus situation intensified and I dreamed about using the months of social distancing to do the preliminary research; to have something to be contributing towards. All I needed was the confirmation and then I could begin.
The derailment of this runaway train took place a couple of days ago. I was working from home, and taking my hour-long break. Having access to a kitchen during lunch on my working days, I had cooked up a kinda-orzo tomato soup with an egg baked into it. The kind of lunch that you ladle into a bowl, sit back on the sofa and eat without having to say anything at all to the people you choose to share it with. I finished the soup, exhaled and took a moment in the wash of calm that had swept over the room before refreshing my emails. Nestled in my inbox was email to say that my application for the studentship had been unsuccessful.
Past this point, it's hard to know what to say. I was upset, and I still very much am, with the feeling coming in waves rather than as a constant. I was embarrassed, due to expressing a lot of public excitement on the matter, and then having to explain that it just wasn't going to happen. There was a whole lot of numbness, as something that I felt tethered to vanished. Or so it would have, had it ever really been there.
Talking about this is difficult, as can be expected, but I just end up feeling childish. Of course, there will probably be "other opportunities", but finding something that gives me the same pull of certainty seems somewhat implausible. Not to mention the fact that this was a funded position with a stipend (right??), and not having that kind of financial support may make it a lot harder for me to orchestrate this kind of project. Perhaps some people will say that it wasn't meant to be, but that's not really a system that I believe in; maybe I could have done this had I been more convincing, more assured, more articulate. At the end of the day, I'm happy that a project such as this will go ahead, and that someone is able to do it. I will look for other opportunities. But, I still do feel like I'm grieving for something, and knowing the way in which I look back on past events, I get the feeling that I'll always nurture a wistfulness for the project that drifted from me.
Without the plan for pre-research in place, ideas of what to fill the day with are a little more scant. It seems fitting that I spent my afternoon yesterday making a large batch of Vegan Kimchi based on the recipe from the YouTube home-cook and recipe blogger Maangchi (I will post the video in the end notes). Have you come across Maangchi before? Hailing from South Korea, she creates video recipes based on Korean home-cooking and she is such a charm to watch, even for the recipes you have no intention of making. What better to do, as well, with a sudden opening up of time than to watch cooking videos from redoubtable Korean matriarchs?
If you haven't had kimchi before (and I am both upset and excited for you if this is the case), then it is a Korean dish of ancient pedigree consisting of salted and fermented vegetables, the most common being napa cabbage, Korean radish and spring onions. It's spicy, acidic and pungent, crunchy in texture and a perfect accompaniment to a whole host of foods. Why I'm choosing to write about it now, is that I feel like it's a good preparation to have in stock during times of scarcity. Most of the ingredients involved are still available around me at the moment, and it allows you to have a small amount of something nutritious always at hand. This recipe makes a very large amount too.
For lunch, just before writing this, I had a bowl of rice, drizzled with sesame oil and topped with a measure of kimchi. It doesn't heal but it's certainly a balm, if only for around 15 minutes. It's re-assuring to know that it's all there, it's all prepared. I've probably been writing for far too long now, and will go ahead with the recipe. However, lastly, I'd like to sheepishly ask something (sheepish because I know my reader levels are very minimal); have you ever had a similar experience to mine? One where your heart gets so set on something without considering the alternatives, only to be disappointed in the end. Please do let me know, and please do make yourself some kimchi. These are hard times for us all, and I'm sure that we all deserve something nice.
Maangchi's Vegan Kimchi
Preparation time: 2 hours and 30 minutes
Makes: approximately 4 pounds
Ingredients
1.3 kg of napa cabbage (also referred to as Chinese leaf)
9 tbsp of salt
2 tbsp of glutinous rice flour
1 1/3 cup of vegetable stock
1 tbsp and 1 tsp of sugar
9 garlic cloves
1 tsp of peeled ginger
1 medium onion, cut into chunks
1 cup of gochu-garu (Korean hot pepper flakes)
170g of Korean radish (also referred to as Daikon or Mooli), chopped into matchsticks
6 spring onions, chopped diagonally
55g of carrot, chopped into matchsticks
Method
Slice the cabbage into quarters, and slice the core away from each one. Cut the leaves into roughly 1-1.5 inch pieces and transfer into a large bowl.
Add 6 tbsp of salt and one cup of cold water to the bowl. Using your hands (make sure you wash them) gently toss the cabbage in the water and the salt to ensure that everything is evenly distributed. Leave the cabbage to stand for 2 hours, tossing with your hands every half an hour. You will notice the longer the cabbage is salted, the more tender it will feel.
While the cabbage is salting, prepare your vegetables as specified in the ingredient list and make the kimchi paste. Combine the glutinous rice flour and 1 cup of the vegetable stock in a small saucepan and place over a medium high heat. Stir until the mixture begins to thicken and bubble, which will take place after about 2-3 minutes. Add 1 tbsp of the sugar and stir on the heat for a further 2-3 minutes until the mixture becomes somewhat translucent. Remove from the heat and leave to cool.
When the flour paste has cooled add it to a blender or food processor with the remaining 1/3 cup of vegetable stock, 3 tbsp of salt, 1 tsp of sugar, garlic, ginger and onion and blend into a puree. Transfer the puree into a medium bowl, and add the gochu-garu flakes. Mix into the paste and set aside.
Once the cabbage has been salted for the full time, it has to be rinsed off. Rinse the cabbage 3-4 times with cold water to ensure that any excess salt has been washed away and drain well.
Add into a large bowl the drained cabbage, radish, carrot and spring onion. Add the kimchi paste, and mix everything together using your hands - you may wish to wear disposable gloves here, but I've found that it doesn't necessary stain or leave an aroma despite the pungency and colour. Ensure that the vegetables are combined and coated evenly throughout as you fold in the paste.
Now, you should leave the kimchi to ferment. Here I recommend separating out the mixture, fermenting a portion and having a portion that you can eat straight away. It will taste great straight away, but will ferment for as long as you keep it. Store in tightly packed airtight containers. Kimchi never goes off, so it can be kept for as long as you like. It never seems to last very long at my place, however!
Notes & Adjustments
In the original recipe, Maangchi specifies that you can also add in 85g of buchu (Asian chives) if you have them available to you. As I haven't yet found these and therefore haven't used them, I haven't included them in the main recipe. However, if you for some reason do know somewhere they are available then do feel free to use them!
Maangchi also has recipes for traditional napa cabbage kimchi (non-vegetarian/vegan due to the use of fish sauce), and an easy kimchi that you may wish to check out too.
For the vegetable stock, I have used both stock made from a concentrated cube and from Maangchi's own vegetable stock recipe; both work very well. Any homemade stock recipe would be suitable.
If you can't find glutinous rice flour, then brown rice flour also works well. You might also be able to use cornstarch, but that's just a guess.
And finally, here is the link to the video itself:
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