Frazzly, sour, bitter, hot

I have, in my long life, come across recipes for kimchi fried rice many times. It never seemed remotely appealing. I don’t like kimchi: it’s too cold, sour, spicy, lip-puckering, shriveling. It always comes before something better, something I want much more.

But when I came across it on Pink Basil, it suddenly looked perfect—red, hot. Full of onion and chewiness and oil; I thought it would be cooling. And I anticipated a week or two of Pantry Staples because of various traveling.

So I bought kimchi (which totally destroyed my $5 rule—that I can’t buy any single thing that costs more than $5, ingredients-wise; this rule is frequently destroyed, most recently by CHERRIES), and it sat in my fridge for a while. Kimchi, if you are not aware, is basically fermented cabbage. It is also very good for you, in a yogurt sort of way, if you catch my meaning. The brand I bought—no idea what the name is; it just says “New York Kimchi” and then some things in Korean—contains cabbage, apple, salt, ginger, garlic, green onion, anchovy broth (SURPRISE! not vegetarian!), pepper, chile powder, and some sort of bacteria that’s put there on purpose.

Today I finally made the fried rice.

I have purchased a new friend. His name is Mofo, Do Not Rob Me Or You Will Regret It. I will keep him under my pillow. This reminds me of an Eddie Izzard bit, but I cannot find it on YouTube.

“Glang Gling Gling Gling … Gling Gling.” That was a barrel organ version of “Jerusalem,” which was a British, a British Empire type song. It’s a hymn, you know, one that we’d sing in church as a kid, I used to [sings] “And did those feet Boom Boom Boom Boom in …” you know. And it’s got really weird lines in it, and it was “And shall my sword sleep in my hand.” Not a good idea. You’re gonna roll over and cut your bits off, aren’t you. And then it’s that Godfather scene of [holding things to his face] “Uhh, Uhh, Uhh, Uhh, a head of a horse, and my willy.” “Should my sword sleep near my bed, but not too close so it cuts my bits off.” That’s how the line should go.

(Thank you, wonderful people who have transcribed all of Eddie Izzard.)

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