I know that I have ADHD in my later years. It became interesting when I revealed it to close friends from hesitantly, and I realized that every woman I know (and most other people I know) suffers from ADHD.

Kimchi, too, if you allow me, I have ADHD.

They are ambitious and complex, flexible and resourceful, but are occasionally influenced by external resources in a rude manner. They are constantly trying to be different and better, using things around them in interesting ways. (Or they are just the subtle rotten food we put on our burgers.)

Either way, I am happy that the food writing of the past ten years emphasized the importance of balancing our food with acid. Here are the kimchi that I think are the most commendable in this regard.

(Note: Almost every culture has a method of preservation. This method produces an awesome series of kimchi in every imaginable dish. I'm here for every damn. These are just me The most commonly used, but I am eager to hear from you.)

I don't care who you are, where you are from, what you do, as long as you have pickled red onions on your shelf.

There are no sandwiches that have not been modified from pickled red onions. Burgers, ketchup, roast beef sandwiches I've been eating last week, etc.-all of these are enhanced with humble but effective pickled red onions. This is not a question of replacing regular onions with pickled onions, although you should do it-they have completely different, sweeter flavor profiles.

To make them, slice the red onions into thin slices, throw them in a jar, and pour the brine on top. The brine is made of 1 cup of water, 1 cup of vinegar, and 1 tablespoon of canned salt. Scale up as needed. Boil the salted water, wait for it to cool for 10 minutes, then pour it on the onion. I leave them to ferment for at least a week, then throw them in the refrigerator and continue to ferment over time. You can add all kinds of seasonings-from mustard seeds to dill-but I won't add anything to the onions. Their simplicity is perfect.

Although pickled onions are generally considered to be British, it is clear that they must have originated in the East, and there is ample evidence that they were used in India and Asia in the early days. Like the artifacts in Britain’s most famous museum, pickled onions seem to “become Britain” through colonialism.

This is the sweetness of dried plums: plum wine-a byproduct of fermentation of immature plums and perilla leaves-has a wide range of uses. It is a salty, fashionable vinegar with a purple color that can be added to various places you have never thought of.

Whipped cream, a, obviously any seasoning, but you can also quickly pickle other vegetables with plum wine. Put some carrots in a jar with plum wine for about a week. The mushrooms marinated in plum wine and some sesame oil are spectacular. So far, my favorite use is to add it to sparkling water as drinking vinegar. (People who are better at drinking will know how to mix.)

You can make prunes yourself. This is a slightly more complicated process. You need to remember the rhymes of "ume" and "May", and then find a place where you can get ume plums in late spring. (Uwashimaya is a good source.) However, I am happy to say that I have also succeeded in using Italian plums, at least in obtaining plum wine. Many places sell dried plums and they are ready, and some even sell vinegar.

Every summer, I am obsessed with eating umeboshi and a bowl of other kimchi, served on dashi cold soba noodles, and a soft egg. (I haven’t used dried plums to make plum sauce, just because I just thought about it.)

If you decide to DIY, please take unblemished plums, wash them with alcohol (vodka will work), and put them in a glass container with perilla leaves and pink salt. Create an (almost) oxygen-free environment by sealing the jar with a bag of water and adding a weight at the end instead of the pansy weight we usually use to keep objects submerged-you need the actual weight to compress the plums and Salt. (This is an in-depth tutorial for someone more qualified than me.)

In addition to these perfect plums, Japanese cuisine also includes a variety of kimchi in a variety of ways, including salted and fermented rice, miso, koji, and broth. You can buy some of these kimchi at your local Asian grocery store, but learn more and try to make some yourself. This is very beneficial.

Some people swear by Heinz ketchup that no homemade version can match perfection. And even if I like to have the ability to make kimchi from what I grow, I still defend a good Clausen, McClure's or Bubbies. In any case, you want to keep the high-quality classic dill kimchi, and there is no reason not to, because kimchi can legally stay in your refrigerator forever.

Don't believe in the shelf life? I will give you three (3) other good reasons to retain these strong sourness in your kitchen: the first is the most obvious. By adding acidic kimchi, almost any kind of burger can be reasonably improved. It penetrates the rich taste of meat and combines the flavors of tomato sauce, mayonnaise, meat and cheese to form a perfectly balanced bite.

The transformative quality of kimchi is the second reason. Sliced ​​kimchi is just a form-kimchi will soon become a dog's delicacy, or if sliced, a corn flakes substitute on a cheese tray.

The third reason is salt water. Kimchi is soaked in brine, and it has a million uses—yes, you can drink it as kimchi, but I add it to gazpacho and occasionally to spaghetti sauce. This is a perfect blow. Bloody Mary? OK 12/10. potato salad? Absolutely. In fact, it is an ingenious dressing.

Although dill kimchi feels unique (probably because I am an American), like almost all "Murika", it came here from elsewhere. From the history of kimchi:

Kimchi has existed for thousands of years, and can be traced back to 2030 BC, when cucumbers from native India were pickled in the Tigris Valley.

I didn't grow up around kraut, so I was never really sure what to do with it. Just like kosher dill, unless you live near a suitable deli, this is not where you should go for commercialization. Sadly, I didn't.

Fortunately, kraut is a perfect fermentation project for beginners.

You start with cabbage-red cabbage or green cabbage, it doesn't matter. Chop it up and massage 3% of the quality of the cabbage in salt. Really reach in and rub the salt into the vegetables. When you do this, the cabbage will drain water. After an hour, put that cabbage into a jar, knock it down, and actually put it in. Pour the drained liquid on top. The liquid will cover the cabbage, which is important. Cabbage must be kept submerged in liquid, using weight will help. I like Ball's pickled lids and springs a lot.

Give it a few days (at room temperature) and you will see kraut start to bubble, which means you are fermenting. Give it a taste every day. When it reaches the funk level you like, put it in the refrigerator. It will not stop the fermentation, but it will greatly slow down the fermentation speed. I like to make several layers of green and red cabbage for my kimchi, and they will all turn into a pleasant pink.

Although kraut is most often associated with German culture, it is another example of Asian influence. From the kitchen project:

More than 2,000 years ago, the Chinese were building the Great Wall and needed to feed thousands of workers in remote areas. They found that one of the most amazing things about cabbage might be that you can preserve it through fermentation without refrigerating or canning. They did not use salt, probably because salt was scarce at the time, but they used rice wine to ferment and preserve cabbage. This is a nutritious dish that can feed workers and keep them healthy and strong.

Again, not white innovation!

Now, I like to pickle jalapenos, and the peppers in the jar are my secret shame food. Please: buy and enjoy. I'm not talking about those. I'm talking about making lactic fermented peppers and impressing everyone you know while bathing in your own salsa bathtub. Believe me.

Choose peppers that suit your spice characteristics. I started by choosing larger mild peppers, and then added some more spicy options. Tear off the label and burn it. In summer, I use the grill; in winter, I use my broiler. Once one side blisters, turn them over and do it again.

Remove the peppers and let them cool. Pull out the stems and seeds (they come out easily). I don't really peel these peppers, I like charcoal.

Put the peppers in a glass jar and add 3% brine. (Here is a fascinating salt water calculator that can help.) Add an airlock at the top and wait a week or two. You are looking for fermentation, so the bubbles are good. White mold is okay (that's kahm yeast, filter it out and try again), but not any other type of mold, so if you see it, throw it away.

Now you can mix these chilies with vinegar to make a delightful homemade chili sauce. I said, upgrade.

Chop the peppers and place them in glass, ceramic or food safe plastic containers. Now add the chopped garlic, chopped tomatoes, chopped green onions, tons of coriander, moderate lemon and lime juice (at least 2 tablespoons per quart of salsa), and chili juice. Season with salt. Put the lid on and let it at least overnight, but I prefer to wait two or three days. The result is the most delicious fermented salsa you have ever tasted. You can process it, and although it loses a bit of magic (obviously, on-site fermentation), it is a great use for kimchi.

Pickled peppers seem to have originated in the Middle East. My deep and endless gratitude to Salsa is due to growing up around countless Salsa choices in Arizona. The salsa recipe above is a very basic recipe, but if you want to learn more about it, I suggest you go to La Santisma Taco Shop in Phoenix. There are a variety of salsa options, which I have never experienced before. pass. Although there is a wide range of Mexican and Latino food, I like to celebrate Silvana Salcido Esparza (the reputation of Barrio Cafe) as a person to watch.

Pickled lemon is a good example. If it is near the kitchen, you will always use it, but you can hardly find a reason to buy it. It is just a more advanced, more impactful lemon, but its taste is much more complicated than you might expect from its shockingly simple ingredient list.

By simply fermenting Meyer lemons with salt, you can turn the sour, crumpled lemon into a stylish, delicious, mellow, and umami acid carrier. Add thin slices to the salad. When making hummus, put the whole slices in a blender, beat them into salsa or salad, and then add them to the shakshuka or taji pot.

To make them, you should buy Meyer lemons—instead of the traditional thick-skinned lemons—and canned salt. The lemon should be clean without any traces or soft spots. Cut them into quarters and soak each side in salt.

Put the marinated parts into a jar and let the lemon juice start to flow to both sides tightly. When you are done, you should have enough lemon juice to cover all the lemons, if not, add some to fill it up. They should be tight enough so that no heavy objects are needed on top to keep everything submerged.

It takes about a month to preserve lemons to...save it. To test them, just open the top, pull out one with a fork, and take a bite.

Pickled lemons have an interesting origin-Mary Ellen Snodgrass attributes them to the Arabian Mediterranean culture of the late 11th century, but they are also common in Indian and North African cuisine, and in every application you dream of tasty.

Capers are the smallest workhouse in the kimchi world, and are the savior in the dregs of winter. That rice? Add capers. Need to kick the ketchup? Capers. Need a punch cheese plate? A kind of fish that can use a certain flavor? Do you have cream cheese bagels?

Although you are unlikely to make capers yourself (they reluctantly grow only in very dry areas of low-lying capers at a rate comparable to evolution), they are easily available in shops in the kimchi district. In fact, they are just small undeveloped flower buds from caper shrubs. (Many people, like me, use nasturtium seeds and flower buds to make imposter capers.)

If you are not familiar with capers, I suggest you make some basic rice or other grains first, and then add a tablespoon or two so that you can experience the power of this tiny, well-preserved flower bud. They add acid and salt and bring everyone together in a very pleasant way.

Capers have always been the origins of Italians to me, but it is not surprising if you have been playing at home, they originated in Asia. Capers are mentioned in Gilgamesh! (Resolve this problem when the meeting is suspended next time. You're welcome!)