배추전 / Baechu-jeon (White vegetable pancake)
I grew up calling this particular type of cabbage baechu in our Korean-speaking home, but later learned that it’s referred to as napa cabbage to English-speaking people in America. I wiki’d it and saw that it’s called hakusai in Japanese, and dàbáicài in Mandarin Chinese— both meaning “white vegetable.” This is also the literal translation of the Korean word baechu.
I read that its origins date back to the 15th century or possibly earlier, growing along the Yangtze River in China. From there it was introduced to Korea, Japan, and other parts of the world. When I think about that, I’m reminded of the obvious that contact between regions and countries existed before my generation, before the last hundred or few hundred years, thousands (interesting wiki on the history of sino-Korea relations). From that perspective, the way we perceive food and ingredients, people and countries —at this immediate moment, immediately around me and my existence— feels in some ways so small and impermanent.
The Qing ambassador Akdun being greeted by King Yeongjo near the Yeongeunmun Gate
Since moving to Munich, I’ve added the German word chinakohl to the names that I know and use to communicate and reference this white vegetable.
I’ve discovered that baechu is not too difficult to find in Munich. You can find beautiful ones that are grown locally when the season is right, at small organic grocers or larger mainstream supermarkets. I’ve been enjoying them like never before, munching on its raw, crunchy, and juicy leaves with a dip of dwaenjang, quick-pickling them in thick salt and using them as ssam wraps, making geot-jeori kimchi, throwing them into dwaenjang jjigae.
I think that the strong-wintered climate here is agreeable to chinakohl. But I’m also wondering if it’s me that's changed, and that I’m actually just paying attention.
credit: EBS
One of the most straightforward ways to enjoy napa cabbage, when you have a really good one on your hands, is to enjoy it floured and pan-fried-- baechu jeon. That’s what I did this week when I snatched up a few exceptionally good ones.
Baechu-jeon reminds me that what excites me most in Korean home cooking - probably similar to home cooking in all other parts of the world, when you have the chance to go deeper into it - is that it demands for me to focus on the ingredient, and properly learn the different ways of preparation to enjoy that ingredient. It often takes multiple tries, failures, schemes, and recoveries, to grab the feeling and know-how of the preparations. Over time, it becomes ways of cooking that I end up noticing ties and similarities in food preparations across other cultures and communities.
I’ve noticed that the way Korean home cooks and eaters around me speak in a way that reflects this focus on preparation. Everything is a verb on preparation, stated before the suggestion to cook or eat something. “Braise it and eat it.” “Make a soup with it and eat it.” “Marinade it.” “Pickle it.” “Ferment it.” "Should we fry it and eat it or boil it and eat it?" These verbs rang in my head in everyday food chit-chat, long before I started to cook them myself, and I pick up the clues now as I figure it out.
Baechu-jeon / Napa Cabbage Pancake
Ingredients list:
-a few napa cabbage leaves
-Korean thick sea salt
-type 00 flour (preferred) or all-purpose flour
-salt
-ice cold sparkling water
-optional: sprinkle of potato starch or sweet rice starch
Version 1: Whole Leaf
*Make this version when you are craving more leaf, less batter.
Prepare the leaves. Remove the number of leaves you want to eat from the cabbage and wash them thoroughly with cold water. Place the leaves in a wide bowl or dish and sprinkle with thick Korean sea salt, rubbing the leaves carefully yet thoroughly to ensure the salt touches everywhere, especially the thicker part of the leaves.
Leave it out at room temperature until it looks like it’s starting to wilt and the thicker base part of the leaf is a bit more flexible. How long you prefer to leave it out to wilt / pickle before you fry it is up to you and your preference of consistency. I personally do not leave it too long— but long enough just until there is a slight give to the leaf, enough to lose a little bit of its curvature and able to be pushed down relatively flat without as much resistance as it as when fresh. When ready to your liking, wash the leaves of the salt with cold water, give them a gentle shake or squeeze, and dry with a towel.
Make the batter, which you don’t need too much of since this version uses just enough for the leaves to have a light dip. Use a 1:1 ratio between flour with a pinch of salt (if you can, use type 00 flour, which produces a lighter effervescence, but if you don’t have that use all-purpose) and water (ice-cold, preferably sparkling), to create a yogurt-like consistency. There are a lot of factors that affect the batter measurement depending on the temperature, type of flour, etc— so I really recommend that you learn to use your judgement to eyeball the consistency that you need. It shouldn’t be thin, but shouldn’t be thick; more like a yogurt consistency. It needs to ribbon when you draw up a spoon or spatula, but it should not feel thick or resistant when you mix with a spoon. Add more water, or flour, as needed, to achieve this consistency. (Option to swap in half a teaspoon or so (really just a sprinkling) of potato starch or sweet rice starch, to add to the crispiness.)
Heat a heavy bottomed pan on high heat. Turn it off when hot, add in neutral oil, and turn it back onto medium heat.
Dip the leaves into the batter, and place into the pan carefully so as not to splatter the batter. Let it cook for a bit, then when crisp enough, flip. Adjust the heat to remain medium / medium-low as needed, and continue to cook, flipping back and forth with some time in-between—until golden and crisp (but not scorched) on both sides.
Enjoy as-is, or with a dip (1:1 ratio of jin soy sauce and vinegar, mixed with green onions, gochukaru, sesame seeds).
Version 2: Sliced leaves
*Make this version when you are craving a proper pancake with more batter
Follow steps 1-2 on the above. Cut the leaves into rough 3 cm pieces.
Do step 3, but make double the batter than you would for the whole leaves version. This is a proper pancake, so you will need it!
Heat a heavy bottomed pan on high heat. Turn it off when hot, add in neutral oil, and turn it back onto medium heat.
Add the leaves into the batter, then add a ladle-full into the pan. I don’t make them too big, because it’s easier to flip smaller. Let it crisp up for a bit, then flip. Adjust the heat to remain medium / medium-low as needed, and continue to cook, flipping back and forth with some time in-between—until golden and crisp (but not scorched) on both sides.
Enjoy as-is, or with a dip (1:1 ratio of jin soy sauce and vinegar, mixed with green onions, gochukaru, sesame seeds).
