We're Havin' a Heatwave...

So lets make Korean cold cucumber soup.

Its so hot, so hot here in Hampshire, UK. As I write this my little dog Lambchop is sprawled out next to my feet, napping and dreaming wishfully about keeping warm under duvets on a cold winter’s night, though she might be dreaming about doing the dog paddle in cooling water (I’d better turn on the tap—the bathtub is her swimming pool). She has a richly creative life, if I am to judge from her movements and sounds during her dreaming naps.

Anyhow, outside, the normally green forests and fields are getting browned and crunchy, the hosepipe ban meaning we shlep watering cans to douse the cucumbers, zucchini, tomatoes, herbs, to hydrate them enough to keep them producing their gorgeous juicy fruit and vegetables.

The only exercise I’m getting seems to be harvesting whatever is ripe for the day, before any critters can get to them before me. Its a race against time and nature, I’m telling you. We live near a forest, and our garden is rich with critters. To be honest: I’m okay sharing, I’ll even leave a few out for you, little guys, like I leave saucers of water if you get thirsty. But if you eat everything, and don’t leave anything to me/us, I mean: thats not fair. I wouldn’t do it to you right? So, each morning, and each evening, I’m out there, gathering whatever might be lost in the course of the day or night.

But anyhow: its so hot, so very hot. In fact, so hot that eating seems like too much energy to expend, chewing seems like running a marathon, and sipping cool liquid feels more attractive much of the time.

I’ve got an iced tea next to my computer; now, in mid-august, we’ve drunk our way through about a month of gazpacho, a glass to our lips whenever we felt particularly hungry or sapped of vigour. And I’m not gonna lie, ice cream floats happen here (my favourite one has vanilla, lemon-lime soda, fresh raspberries and a spoonful of homemade rose petal jam).

So flipping languidly, oh so languidly, because when its so hot, everything I do, I do it languidly, flipping through the internet, I came across the wonderful and famous Korean Cook-Goddess, Mangchi, making cold cucumber soup.

A great idea: it reminded me of the Korean cold soups I’ve eaten all over the place, especially one in Yantai, just over the water from Korea, which was cold noodles in a sweet-sour-umami broth, with ice, fried peanuts, chillies. It was sensational.

This recipe though: so much simpler: so low in calories! So little work, and you could make it ahead of time, days ahead of time, I mean, it started as a cucumber soup and 3 days or so later was more like a pickle soup. Both ends of the spectrum are refreshing and delicious.

I must confess, though, that I used very little of Mangchi’s original recipe: for instance, her soup was both cucumbers AND tomatoes, I’ve decided to go all cuke. Other recipes I’ve found on the internet include seaweed which is wonderful, I love wakame, but like I said: the weather is so hot, I gotta go with languid in making food, too. Soaking the seaweed is that little bit too far, in this heat, and also, like the tomatoes, it interferes with the cucumber-y-ness of the cucumber soup.

However you make it, though, its wet wet wet. Spoon up some cucumber and sesame, then put the bowl up to your mouth and sip the liquid; I hear thats what Korean grandmas and grandpas do. And no one knows better than they do when the weather is crazy hot like this.

Hmmmm….I just looked up our weather forecast, and it looks like our heat will break in a few days time, followed by rains, then more…heat. Where you are, wherever that might be, its probably hot for a good while longer. Unless you’re in southern hemisphere winter, in which case: save this recipe, you’ll need it.

Oi-Naengguk (Korean Cold Cucumber Soup)

Makes about 6 portions, or, do it like we do, two portions 3 times, just keep it in the fridge and ladle out to eat/drink

The amounts are loosely measured, and the flavour of the broth very much depending on your own taste—I’d say that those ingredients are more of a suggestion than something to be measured. Taste taste taste, then stick it away in the fridge.

1 lb/about 1 large European cucumber, or, 1/2 big European cucumber and several small crisp Japanese, Korean, Turkish, Persian cucumbers: once julienned you’ll want about 2 heaping cups worth. American cucumbers are thicker skinned, and not recommended for this soup, which I think is best when the skin is included. Plus: for serving: 1 small cucumber or portion larger cucumber, julienned, to sprinkle on top of bowls

4 cloves garlic

1 smallish or 1/2 medium to large-ish onion, thinly sliced

Salt to taste

3-4 tablespoons sesame seeds

1- 2 tablespoons soy sauce

1 teaspoon-2 tablespoons sugar or honey

2 tablespoons vinegar (I use cider, but note that most Korean recipes use brown rice vinegar)

2-3 green onions, thinly sliced

2 1/2 cups cold water

Ice cubes! (at least one for each bowl)

Cut the cucumbers into thin strips, or julienne.

Chop, mince, or crush the garlic and add it to the cucumbers, along with the sliced onion. Sprinkle generously with salt, work it through with your hands, massaging the cucumbers and aromatics, and set aside for about 10 minutes while you toast and crush the sesame seeds.

Toast the sesame seeds in an ungreased pan until they are fragrant and browned in spots; do not let them burn, esp as they will continue cooking after you remove them from the heat.

Crush them in a mortar and pestle, or using a blender, until they are coarsely crushed, with varying degrees of shape from nearly whole to powder. Set aside to cool and when cool, pour into a jar, and covered with a lid.

To the cucumber mixture, add the soy, sugar or honey, vinegar, green onions, then stir in the cold water. Taste liquid for seasoning, then cover and place in refrigerator to chill.

To eat: ladle the cucumber and liquid into bowls, add an ice cube or two, sprinkle with the crushed sesame seeds, and if its been a few days since you made the soup, top with some freshly julienned cucumber.