106 Cloves of Garlic Later, or Praises of Aromatic and Slow Simmering Romances
UPCOMING TRAVEL
Greensboro 9/25-26, dinner dates only
Minneapolis 10/16-18
San Francisco and San Jose 12/2-3
Available in Chicago for all other dates this fall :)
I dyed this dress myself!!! In addition to being a profesional plus one, textile arts is also my passion :)
This summer I took on one of my most ambitious chili oil recipes yet.
106 cloves of chili oil, 75 slices of ginger, 80 scallions, 13 cups of vegetable oil, 5 1/3 cup of chili flakes…
1 documentary, a half season of Sex and the City…. I peeled all this garlic by hand!!! This recipe was adapted and scaled up from Woks of Life’s chili oil recipe for Drool Worthy Sichuan Chicken in Chili Oil Sauce.
I’ve realized that I have been making amateur chili oil for nine years and professional live, laugh, love for seven.
My gentle and perverted reader, I aim to connect these two disparate areas of my life, arguing that the greatest flavor and depths from chili oil and companionship come from slow heat, consistency, and patience
One of my comforts during the bitter fall of 2015 was frozen dumplings.
Dumplings require a dipping sauce, and a truly good dipping sauce requires chili oil. A lackluster chili oil leads to a lackluster sauce. Hence, cut to me shuffling down Michigan Ave with a grey cloud over my head, a veritable culinary Eeyore.
Thankfully, Woks of Life’s recipe for Sichuan Spicy Wontons swimming in chili oil seduced me, but I realized a problem.
I needed to make my own chili oil.
Not any chili oil, but I needed a chili oil worthy of these wontons. It was time to tackle the beast.
My first time making chili oil was honestly stunning. Cinnamon, star anise, garlic, ginger, and scallions yielded to an hour of swimming in vegetable oil heated to a gentle 320°F. My apartment became a place of worship to the holy trinity of garlic, ginger, and scallions. Once the ginger wrinkled, I poured it over the chili flakes and sesame seeds. Even after 10 years, I love that sizzle. The oil bloomed red. The red scare has landed. I had success.
I barely remember the wontons now, but I remember the oil was so good that I wanted to do shots of it, slather it over my skin, annoint myself.
I became cocky the second time. This was my second rodeo after all. I turned up the heat and walked away.
I could hear my ingredients protesting, imploring me to listen to them. The heat would be poorly distributed if I didn’t stir my different sized spices, the burners would run too hot, the ginger would get too hot too soon and the rest of the aromatic would still be rendering.
SILLY ME
Stubbornly, I poured the smoking burnt oil over my chili flakes. Once the oil cooled, I cautioned a taste. Culinary horrors befelled me. I quietly slinked back to Lao Gan Ma, apron between my legs.
After mourning my folly over the winter, I was ready to face my empty pantry. It was time to set aside my ego and beg the forgiveness of the spices, aromatics, vegetable oil, and precious chili flakes.
In this tumultuous world that demands instant results and success, it can damning to return to the sites of old mistakes or to even start something new. Why have hope that things will change? We can always move on to something else. Something that doesn’t bear the mistakes of the past.
However, I knew that if I knew if I truly devoted time, patience and forgiveness, I would be rewarded with a bountiful and flavorful pantry. Fast forward 10 years, I’m here to announce that chili oil and I have a great relationship. We’ve been through many trials, but I’ve learned to listen to my ingredients and my changing kitchens.
As the summer turns to fall, I’ve realized that my relationship to making chili oil bears remarkable similarities with the relationships I’ve treasured most as a professional companion. We listen to each other’s needs, we love each other’s quirks, and we learn from our mistakes. Our comfort and growth from each other comes from dates that have spanned years of tending to the slow fire of passion.
When we invest time and patience into our craft and our relationships over time, there is so much more. The flavor and conversations are deeper and richer, the dance with ingredients and each other is filled with more ease and experimentation.
We’ve accepted that it’s inevitable we’ll make mistakes along the way, but that shouldn’t stop us on our journey of connection with our senses and one another. If we turn up the heat slowly, we can hear what the ginger and scallions are telling us, and what we’re telling each other. We can hear each other over the low and slow flames.
On that note, peel some garlic and reach out to your favorite companion. The best flavors are built over time.
I know, I wish I had smell-o-vision too
Extra credit
My birthday is coming up in December!!!! If you are well versed with Josie lore, I am a LAMB a.k.a. a Mariah Carey fan! If you want to fan the flames of our passion, I would love nothing more than two tickets for me and my best friend to attend her Chicago concert on November 27th! I want to WARBLE, I want to BELT, I want to pledge my everlasting love to my favorite diva of all time.
After 24 hours of frenzied squarespace tinkering, I’ve updated my website because graphic design is my passion (and my cross to bear)!!! Tell me I’m a good girl please!
Autumn moon festival is coming up which means… Salted Egg Yolk ice cream! I love this rich well balanced salty ice cream more than anything and I’m so excited to make it again. I might even make it live this weekend on the forbidden fans site so stay tuned for an email…
I’m coming out as an animation nerd and I want you to join me. Nick Park, creator of Wallace and Grommit, conducted unscripted interviews with the British public and illustrated these interviews with claymation animals. I know it sounds weird, but if you’re a claymation fan, you’ll love Creature Comforts.
Over 40,000 Palestinians have been killed by US financed Israeli forces. Please donate to Seraj’s family and others, write letters, protest, and more. We need to show the US government that we are apalled that our US tax dollars are funding a genocide.
I leave you with a truly candid photo of me serving dirtbag chef bro realness in my grandma’s floral shirt