In pursuit of.

I left my day job.

I am sitting by the window in my kitchen/living that overlooks my side turn wall which has many objects that Toby and I have accumulated over the past 12 years of our life together.

I see the 'no smoking in the marquee!' blackboard sign that Toby wrote for our wedding festival. The garden wire that holds the thing together is looking a bit rusty, but my memories of the glorious summer of 2013 that marked our togetherness in a true style of us-ness are still going strong.

To the left of the blackboard, it's a vintage art deco mirror that was delivered broken which we felt too sad to throw away. It's covered in dust and million pieces of Toby's facial hair shavings, but still, it looks very happy to be given a second lease of life.

To the right, is a small blue pretend vintage metal signage that says 'chickens for sale here'. We picked it up few years ago from our local garden centre. Back in those days, my mum used to always ask me about the prospect of possible offspring and referred her future grandchild as 'a chicken'. She is funny like that.
We even subtitled our westival'...and then there will be chicken(s)...', and here we are. We do have a 14 months old chicken. And Toby says we're not allowed to call her dual heritage as it makes her sound more like tomatoes.

The thought of our chicken and us playing mama, dada and Kiki, never fails to make me laugh. It fills every empty holes in my bones and keeps me warm, whole and complete.

I never thought I would say this.

But indeed, having child does change you.

I suddenly started to see the world in a different way. 
Even with my sleep deprived frazzled brain and forever twitchy eyes, I'm somehow a bit more generous, more forgiving and much more empathetic than I've ever been. 
The balancing act of working on the project-life, Kiki and having a bit of life can sometimes feel nothing more than just negotiating my way through million different types of guilt. More than often I worry if I am being selfish by asking her to play on her own for a moment.
Some days will go so slow that I get fed up at clock watching every other second. Some other days will fly by and I would be wondering where the day has gone. And yes, for sure, my occasional but desperate wish for Toby to come home and rescue me, from our pretty evil eyed, non-negotiable little terror, that resembles nothing but me and my partner in crime is arguably the lowest point of my mothering game that I would not be boasting about on my cv. 
But deep amongst these unpredictable day to day craziness, just as I feel like I've used all my reserves and wonder I might not be cut for this, I see the little human I created singing the twinkle twinkle in the language that she only understands, but somehow assures me that I am doing good and that we will, very soon, be able to speak the same lingo. 
She reaches out for my hands and gives me the slobbery smacker. Nice.

And that, the triumphantly delightful moments that swings by out from nowhere, to reaffirm you, indeed you're working on life, is what makes it all worth it. Hard work but so so special.
Then you start to sense and see the real frame of time. Even with oh-I-am-so-exhausted state of mind, you realised you've never been so clear about what is important in life.
And you really don't want to waste a single minute on doing things that no longer feels right to you. 

I suddenly have that mother thing; the natural animal instinct of wanting to protect my own tribe; wanting to provide all I can for the better survival of my brood.
As I watch my little terror bastardise away the box of tissues, spice drawers, television remote control and anything and everything she can get her hands on, I realise that this little tiny human is learning everyday from the way we do and live.
I can't think of better way to teach her, than setting up a good examples myself by living my own life to its full potential. So she can look back when she's a bit older, to know that her mother was an inspiring woman, who taught her by bettering her own self.

Coconut Oil Roasted Masala Potatoes and Fried Egg
Serves 2 as brunch

350g baby potatoes, quartered
good extra virgin raw coconut oil, such as Vita Coco
1/2 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1/2 tsp coriander seeds
1/4 tsp onion seeds
pinch of chilli flakes
1/4 tsp mustard seeds
1 onion, finely chopped
1/2 red pepper, thinly sliced
1 clove of garlic, minced
1/2 inch ginger, grated
1/2 tbsp tomato paste
1/2 fresh lime juice
some fresh chilli, finely chopped (optional)
handful fresh coriander, roughly chopped
couple of eggs for frying

Well, good people at Vita Coco had sent me their coconut oil to try.
Although I don't tend to do product reviews as such, since I already am a huge fan of good organic coconut oil, I gave it a go.

If you're already familiar with coconut oil, you will understand that the depth of coconut flavours in oil varies depending on brands. Some of you might prefer stronger coconut flavour and others, like myself might lean towards milder ones.
Vita Coco's new extra virgin raw coconut oil is very good. 
It has distinctive coconut flavour but when used in Indian-esq recipe, it compliments the dish really well. It makes deliciously creamy porridge and wonderful to cook thick banana pancakes with. It's a goodun.

This recipe on the other hand is good all arounder to have it up your sleeve. It can cure badass hangover, nurture stinking cold or just simply fill those hungry holes.
I am adding fried eggs on top but poached will be healthier option if that's what tickles your fancy. You could serve this alongside with some roasted meat if you wanted to man up, or add some bacon rashers instead. Fried or grilled fish coated in some tandoori style spices  will also go very well with this.

Set your oven to 180º and put your baking tray in the oven with a good spoonful of coconut oil so it can get really hot.
Quickly boil potatoes for 5 mins with little salt, drain, and let them cool down a bit.
Dry roast cumin, fennel, coriander seeds until they release the aroma and ground them in pestle and mortar or spice grinder.
Put potatoes, ground spices, onion seeds, chilli flakes with some salt and pepper, mix well with spoon as the oil will be hot, and roast them for good 25mins or so until they appear slightly crisp on the edges.

While potatoes are cooking, place medium sauce pan or frying pan big enough to hold all of your potatoes, over low heat. Put little coconut oil, mustard seeds and gently fry the onions until they're soft and golden. Add sliced red peppers, garlic and ginger. Fry them till peppers are soften a bit then add tomato paste and cook them down for another 5mins or so. You may need a little more oil at this point just so you can cook the paste a bit. 
Add a splash of water enough to loosen the sauce and simmer for 15mins with the lid on. If the mixture dries out, just add a little more water.

Now, add your roasted potatoes into sauce, chopped chilli and coriander can be added at this stage as well as splash of lime juice to freshen things up. Give the whole thing a minute or two to mingle in the sauce over the low heat.
Season to taste and serve them with fried egg. 
Good sprinkle of Dukkah adds a good texture but that is just my preference.

I positioned myself directly opposite to those three random but meaningful nicknacks to cheer me up, as I badly sketch up some designs for my new adventure. Tomorrow my sewing machine arrives. I'll position it exactly where I am. 
As I rustle my way into this world of unknown, I am sure there will be doubts, fear and maybe some tears. But I hope the familiar surroundings, especially the chickens for sale signage will remind me why I'm braving and of course, that I am a mother.

we made the fire.

You know, I was going to babble you about the fishing trip that my dad used to take me to when I was younger. I tried hard to jog my memories back and tried my upmost to write them all down here, so I can share those magical moments with you. But I found it hard. It's proven rather difficult.

Such a moment, that has been wrapped up tightly with so much emotions, isn't the kind of thing you can share by talking perhaps.

Growing up, I didn't have very good relationship with my dad unfortunately. 
It wasn't until very recently that I have learnt to understand him for who he is really. I'm pretty sure he will say the same about me.

I think we were two strong characters with very different ideas about way of life. 

We used to argue day in, day out until he shouted 'Under my roof, my rules!'. 
I was so desperate to get away from that roof, the roof that sheltered me for all the wrong reasons. What he expected of me seemed so far from what could be achieved or what I wanted to pursue. I just wanted get out and do my own thing so desperately. And that desperation eventually brought me here, to London.

I remember my dad yelling at me once, that he didn't believe I will be able to last here as I have been a quitter for all those years he remembered. He more than often used say I give up things too easily. It was so harsh things to hear, I know. But that was my dad. And I know why he said that. 
He knew if he said that, I would work harder and make sure I last, just so I can prove him wrong. He knew his daughter too well.

The man with very few words congratulated me on my first return visit home, almost 3 years after landing in London.

My first camping trip few weekends ago reminded me a lot of the fishing trip. 
Being out in the wild with very little convenience, gave us a chance to appreciate each other's company. Hearing nothing but the birds singing, we could hear our voices better. Looking after the fire that kept us warm and full, we learnt to be patient. Searching for the stars in the dark, we found each other in different light. Walking along the muddy woodlands, we spent time helping each other. We made an effort to talk. Not to upset each other, not to demand anything but just to keep each other's company happy. 

Sweet lentil and goats cheese salad
serves 2

for the salad
80g puy lentil
1-2 shallot, finely sliced (save little bit for the dressing)
some cooked and pickled beetroots, thinly sliced
some mild goats cheese
some olive oil
salt and pepper

for the chilli and coriander dressing
some finely chopped shallots
1 1/2tbsp cider vinegar
1tsp caster sugar
pinch of salt
pinch of crushed chilli
handful of fresh coriander, finely chopped
1tbsp olive oil

This is simple and humble plate of food that is perfect served on its own as a light lunch or as a side with beautifully grilled meat. Gently fried shallots add lovely sweet flavour to the lentils whilst shallots in the dressing keeps the dish fresh and light.

First of all, cook your lentils with plenty of water and pinch of salt for 20-25mins. You want them to be cooked through but still have a bite to them. Once ready, drain well.
Meanwhile, in a small bowl, mix all the ingredients for the dressing except the olive oil. Set it aside. Add the olive oil in when you are ready to bring things together.

Now, gently fry the shallots in little olive oil until dark golden. 
Add the well drained lentils to the fried shallots as well as the sliced beetroots.
Bring things together by dressing them generously with prepared chilli and coriander dressing. Season with black pepper.
Plate up, add your goats cheese, drizzle little more dressing over the salad and tuck in.

I treasure the fishing trips with dad. It is one of the very few memories that is not tainted with anger. Every moment I can picture of those trips has an ordinary father and daughter loving each other the way that I saw in others.

I am not going anywhere

The problem of talking about the stuff that is close to you, too close to your heart, is I think, that often, your emotion kind of overrides ones consciousness and more than often there is a danger which the speaker may become too attached and end up focusing on the sentimental values of the subject matter rather than the matter itself.


This is my problem.
I have been babbling about what is up with me lately on this screen for the last few days, in an attempt to write a post to share the important news. For the last few days, and I am not joking when I say Days, it has been six days to be quite precise, I found almost impossible to get pass the first few sentence.
The thing is though, I am trying to talk about something that is not only very close to my heart but also a very big deal; a huge deal. To talk about such is really overwhelming and I didn't quite know where to start.


Well, as some of you might already know, I have been living in London for quite some time. Over the past 12 years, I had to learn to speak English, learn to understand the culture and learn to grow up; try to grow up as a good resident of Britain.
You could argue, I didn't have to learn to speak the language, if I had chosen to live near by Korean community. And to tell you the truth, for a little while I did in fact lived in New Malden; a small town in Surrey where you'll find most things Korean. But soon, I realised it wasn't for me. I wanted to feel part of London, so to speak. 
I remember going into the bank to open a bank account and feeling slightly humiliated by the lady who found me a little difficult to understand. Experiencing what I could only recognise as dismissal of my rather inadequate performance in communicating, I promised to myself I'll never let that same feeling to hurt me again. 
I tried really hard to speak well. I wanted to speak, so no one can ever tell the difference that I wasn't actually born and bred hear in London.
I am not sure whether I have kept my promise but fortunately enough, the same incident does not happen to me anymore.


It's been a tough journey to get here and a very long one too. And here, I mean by, where I feel possibly more home than back home, Korea. I am comfortable with my surroundings. What was so new and shocking back then isn't alien to me anymore. 
A naive young girl who landed London with a little clues of what was ahead of her life has finally grew up and London has become an essential part. It is part of me, part of my adult life that I want to celebrate.


The dilemma of adolescence and the confusions in values of my life as youth has come to an end with my status in London as a staying guest.
I am preparing myself to become a proper resident and possibly to gain the British Citizenship in near future.
Strange thing is though, although I never doubted that I'll get here, I am kind of frightened of the slim chance that it might all fall apart. I am not confident all again.
It was so easy to talk about this stuff in the past but now it is so close, I can't seem to be able to rationalised it. And to even think of the possible failure really terrifies me.


Toby tells me we're not going anywhere until I pass this test.

Triple Cooked Chips (Inspired by Heston Blumenthal's)


some potatoes, scrubbed well and cut into thick chunky chips
frying oil
salt


For making chips, I found King Edwards or Maris Piper works well at home.
Triple cooked may put you off with all the work involved but it is actually quite easy and worth  the effort. My method doesn't actually fry the chips twice. Instead, I fry once then bake them in the oven. I just prefer it this way.


First of all soak your chips in cold water for 5mins or so to remove starch. Rinse well under running water then simmer them in salted water for 7-9mins. Chips should still hold its shape.
Drain them well and lay them onto baking tray. Put them in the freezer for 30mins or so to dry them out. You can leave this in the fridge over night instead if you're not going to use this straight away.
Heat your frying oil to high temperature and fry the chips until lightly coloured.
Now, place your baking tray in the oven and wait until it reaches the highest temperature. Carefully remove the baking tray to place fried chips, put them back in the oven, drop the temperature to 200º and bake them for about 20-30mins or until chips are dark golden brown around the edges.
Sprinkle some sea salt to taste and the rest is entirely up to you. Good helpings of tomato ketchup, a dollop of mayo, a drizzle of malt vinegar or perhaps all of these. Whatever it may be, I am certain you will enjoy these quintessentially British chips.

And now, back to my study of 'Life in the United Kingdom; A Journey to Citizenship'.


In 1948, people from the West Indies were invited to come and work in Britain as well as workers from Ireland and other parts of Europe.
Until 1857, a married woman had no right to divorce her husband.
In 1918, women over the age of 30 were given the right to vote and in 1928, women won the right to vote at 21, at the same age as men.
A census has been taken every ten years since 1801, except during the second World War.
The UK is divided into 646 parliamentary constituencies.
There are 78 seats for representatives from the UK in the European Parliament.
The National Assembly for Wales, or Welsh Assembly Government (WAG), has 60 Assembly Members.
The Queen is the head of the Commonwealth, which currently has 53 member states.
Schools must be open 190 days a year.

And 75% must be achieved to pass the test. 
I hope I pass because, I intend to stay here for good this time and that is, for sure.

making friends with the skeletons in my closet.

I had a little conversation with my friend, F the other day.

What I get to hear more these days, and of course, I think this is because of my age, is that they are expecting; expecting to become parents.

For someone who doesn't naturally have that mother nature kind of thing, or perhaps just another fear of all things too responsible, I found the news both exciting and overwhelming.

Nevertheless, of course it is something that I congratulate those with great respect.

I am not entirely sure when my phobia of parenthood came apparent. 
But what I recall very clearly is those memories of my mother telling me, 'Wait until you have your own and then you will know what it is like. I so wish you have one just like you'.

I think my dad seldom said the same thing too. 
Somewhere along those lines of which, often sounded more like a curse than a well wish.


I kind of understand why now. And with regret, I have no doubt that it must have been so difficult for them to cope with a tear away teenager, whose only wish had been nothing but unconventional in all traditional senses of my own culture, that came as a chronic headache. 
How were they supposed to know how to handle and deal with such, when everything was first time and a new experience for them? 
At the end of the day, they were learning, weren't they? Learning to be good parents. Learning to raise us well to become a decent grown ups who can represent the family for all those years to come.


As much as I was given plenty of stuff to fill my days with, and as much as I really did appreciated my parents had to work hard to provide all those things that we took advantages of, it was always quite difficult to accept they had to work as much as they did. 
In my dream world, my dad was at work and mum was always around us; preparing our pack lunches that we'll be proud to brag about, spending afternoon playing fun games together, keeping us a good company to consolidate every little trouble we're going through and singing along while cooking up an amazing supper for her loving husband whose day work must have been relentless and restless.
But in reality, things didn't quite happen that way.


I think maybe that was why.
It is not that I don't want to have children or I am not maternal enough. It's just, that I seem to struggle to come to terms with the possibilities of failing to provide my dream world. Of which, fundamentally, it is absolutely ridiculous or at least quite impossible idea these day and age. 
I look around of all proud parents of this what I'd call, financially disrupted time of gloominess, and actually every mums and dads are doing marvellously amazing jobs. I am not sure how they do it, but they all seem to manage it one way or the other and most importantly, be happy.
That sense of being complete as a part of natural progress of your endearing love and the reward of your hard work, the children themselves comes as a invaluable joy and an achievement. 


Come to think of it, it does all make sense.
It's just, it took me all these years to revisit my childhood to realise what has caused this issue.  And going back to the beginning, my friend and I both agreed, we are only grown-ups because of those realisations of our issues. The ability to recognise our issues gives us the ultimate power to change and to better ourselves. 
We all thrive to be good and well and this cannot be possibly happening without making friends with those nasty skeletons in our closet.

Orange glazed beets and carrots
Serves 4 as side


mixture of different varieties of carrots and beetroots
1 juice of orange
1/2 lemon juice
1/2 tbsp coriander seed, crushed
handful of mint, chopped
good drizzle honey
some toasted sesame seeds
pinch of salt and pepper
some olive oil


I'm sure most of you will have your own ways of roasting these beautiful vegetables. But if you haven't tried this combinations of flavours before, I recommend you to give it a go. It is deliciously sticky, fruity and fragrant. Although roasted, last drizzle of mint gives wonderful freshness to the dish. 
Just as a reference, I used 5 small orange carrots, 4 small purple carrots and 3 medium sized beetroots.


Preheat the oven at 180º.
Chop your beets and carrots however you like. I tend to half them in length way or quarter them of they are too big. Make sure they are all similar in size to ensure even cook. I peeled my beets and carrots but again, it is entirely up to you.
Put them in a roasting tray and dress them with oil, coriander seeds, freshly squeezed orange juice. Season them with salt and pepper.
Roast them for about 30mins then drizzle a good helping of honey and roast them for further 10mins or until they're tender.


While that's cooking, make mint dressing by mixing chopped mints and lemon juice together with pinch of salt.


When beet and carrots are ready, toss them with mint dressing and some toasted sesame seeds.

We are the effects of the cause.

we go wild

Hello, and how are you all?

I know, It's been a long time. 
Don't you worry though, my dear friends, I am still here, alive. Or should I say, 'Just about...!'.

It has been pretty hectic here in a little world of mine. 
Toby and I have moved finally, and we are settling in slowly but surely. 
Covered in layers of dust and baffled with countless loads of debris of once would-have-been fashionable wallpapers, momentary hesitance and disapproval is fast becoming main acts of this, what I would like to describe as painful but somewhat joyful process.

We have heated conversations that appears more like arguments most of times. Our friends and family raise their eyebrows with concern more often than ever, and we laugh at ourselves in an attempt to conclude that we were indeed reading from the same page. 
While my hopelessly optimistic attitude provides us some aesthetically pleasing design ideas for thoughts, Toby's realistically pessimistic approach to the project tightens the practical functions over its beauty.
This huge puddle of renovation is a tough dish to tackle. We're being challenged left, right and centre. 
Amount of researches I'm having to deal with, my MacBook is now my new boyfriend and google is his brain that I peck at. I caress it every day with an exceptional love and care for some answers and wait patiently for some actions.
In the unknown field of DIY, Toby is my handy man with the mean hot paint stripping gun. Geared up with goggles and masks, we roll deep into the wildness of mess of what we hope to make it as our beautiful home one day.


Decision making has never been so difficult at times and sure we will be facing more troubled issues to get over with but so far, fortunately, everything is in one piece and we are pleased that we are where we are.

Wild Asparagus
I came across these lovely fellas about a month ago for the first time.
It is little more delicate in taste and texture than usual asparagus. As it was my first time, I wanted to have them really simple. 


some wild asparagus, trimmed
nob of unsalted butter
pinch of malden salt
pinch of black pepper
some fresh lemon juice


Steam or boil them for couple of minutes and drain if you boil them. 
Dress them with little butter, pinch of salt and pepper. Finish them off with good squeeze of lemon.
I'd like to try them with tarragon butter next time for added flavour.

I'd like to say big thank-you to all of you readers for being so supportive. 
'babaganuj' is now on BBC Food Blog's 'currently reading' list.
Thank you.

It does it for me.

Well, well, well...
I looked forward to this breakfast and could not make a good sleep last night feeling excited.


Three weeks ago to be exact, Toby and I discovered the little cafe, 'the coffee' in the corner of Kingston.
I must admit, I didn't expect anything other than being able to get a papercupfulness of caffeine supply that I desperatly lacked of that particular morning you know. But as you might suspected, and it is always the way I reckon, this place came out of nowhere... captured our eyes.
And this sunday, we'd planned to revisit for full English for a treat.


Toby and I took some time looking at their chalk board. 
Carefully surveying our options, he decided to stick with the plan while I chickened out for some egg omelette.
What's really nice about doing this whole breakfast thing was, you see, you get to experience whole new world of laziness. 
Piles of Sunday paper and supplement magazines on the side of the table, maybe a little quarrel deciding who wants which bits first to read and that wonderfully glorious wake up smell of good coffee...
It does it.
The whiff of freshly roasted beans and the loud but pleasant sound of grounding grabs your attention until the delivery of your coffee gives you a little knock.
Then there's that big lip smacking snog of sweet fluffy creaminess you can't resist. 
Oh boy, I am almost lost in this haziness until that last mouthful of bitterness hits me back to wake me up.


After a little head rush, you are awaken; mellowed out with an eyeful of daydream and eased up like Sunday morning.
It definitely does it for me.
How about you, man?

Balsamic glazed shallot tarte tatin




for tarte tartin
300g shallots
3tbsp balsamic vinegar
1tbsp honey
olive oil
butter
pinch of salt and pepper
some ready made puff pastry




for mint yogurt dressing for salad
1/2 sumac
2tbsp yogurt
1/2 lemon juice
pinch of salt
handful of mint, finely sliced




Start by preparing your shallots.
Over medium heat, gently fry your shallots with little butter, oil and a pinch of salt. When they are softened and a little brown on the outside add the vinegar, honey and some pepper.
Cook them over low hear for good 10mins or so until the shallots are well glazed.


Place the shallots in the baking tray and cover them snuggly with puff pastry.
Bake them for about 20mins or until golden in the oven (180º).


In the mean time, you can prepare the mint yogurt dressing for your salad by combining all ingredients together.
Whisk all of the components thoroughly and dress your salad just before serving.
I made mine with thinly sliced radish, cucumber and some watercress which provides wonderfully refreshing pepperiness with the dressing.

Now, that's ya lot...!

As he scored, she was touched.

I wasn't quite sure how it was going to all work out.
It sounded like a good plan though.
All we had to do was to turn up at the right venue discreetly.

What if she finds out? What if we get caught? What if we fail to make it altogether?
The only obstacle was her, our 'Mission #B'.

About 3 weeks ago, Toby's brother in law P facebooked Toby about his grande plan of night away in London with his beautiful wife, B.
He asked us if we would like to join them. We said yes and there, we were signed up for the mission where we become a little surprise for their romantic getaway.
How lovely of P to plan the night away, I thought.
And as if that wasn't enough, he goes that extra mile to arrange such a thing so his wife could catch up with her brother in town.
Now, come on, that is romantic! Was he for real?
I was well impressed!

P, I applaud you!

We arrive and succeed surprising B.
She hugs us with real good squeeze, 'I'm letting you know how much I appreciate' kind of squeeze, and a little  tears of joy.
P gets well deserved kisses and stocks up on brownie points for the rest of the month.

We loosen up with the crowd listening to the live performance of 'Hot Fiction' at Silver Bullet.
And we chat about family.


Knowing that we care, we were all moved.

Amazingly dressed purple sprouting broccoli

200g purple sprouting broccoli
1 garlic clove, chopped
pinch of crushed chilli
pinch of fennel seeds, dry roasted
handful of tarragon, finely chopped
1 tomato
nob of butter
olive oil
salt and pepper
1/2 lemon juice



Start preparing the dish by parboiling broccolis for couple of minutes and cooling them instantly in ice cold water.

Heat the frying pan with little olive oil and some butter. Put garlic and crushed chilli into the pan to infuse the flavour over medium heat. Add the broccolis, tarragon to the pan and squeeze or squash the tomato by your hands into the dish so all the soft bits of tomato goes into the dish. (Honestly!)

Season them with salt and pepper. Add 1/2 of lemon juice to taste.
Toss them well together.

Now, dish them up with good sprinkles of fennel seeds.
It is very important to dry roast the fennel seeds. Trust me, it does make all the difference to the dish.
They are just delicious!

It is nice to know that we love.