Kimchi PancakeKimchi Jeon

Rainy day in Korea means kimchi jeon. This is so consistent and widely understood that it's almost a joke — the sound of rain outside triggers an appetite for these crispy fermented pancakes. The theory is that the drumming of rain on a roof sounds like oil sizzling in a pan. I have no idea if that's true but I like it.

The version I make most often is the simplest one: kimchi, flour, egg, cold water, a little oil. The kimchi juice goes into the batter along with the chopped kimchi. The juice is acidic and adds a tang you can't replicate any other way. Old, overfermented kimchi — the stuff you've been meaning to use up — is actually better here than fresh kimchi because the sour flavor intensifies when the batter cooks.

The crispiness is all about the oil and the pressing. Three tablespoons of oil sounds like a lot but you want the pancake to almost shallow-fry on the bottom. Press it flat with a spatula while it cooks. Don't rush the flip — wait until the bottom is genuinely golden and the edges are set, about three to four minutes. The second side takes a little less time.

I made this on a genuine rainy afternoon in Amsterdam for a a friend named Bram who worked in the same shared office space. He'd brought his own lunch but it smelled so good he abandoned it. He ate half the pancake before I'd even cut it properly, which I took as the best possible review.

He asked what made the flavor so complex for a dish with so few ingredients. The answer is the kimchi juice — all that fermentation doing the work in a two-tablespoon pour.