Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life at the cottage was an unending rotation of chores - there was always something to feed, or to clean, or to gather, or to make. But it was never unfair, and never unnecessary, and Grandma Wren always worked harder than anyone else, so the children rarely complained.

And of course, there was always the promise of magic.

An unspoken truth of the universe is this: that the preparation of food to share with other beings is a magic; ancient, quiet, and powerful, able to impart warmth and connection in a way little else can.

And so it was that Suvi, Ame, and Eursulon were often tasked with preparing food, and the warm, comforting rice porridge Grandma Wren called “jook” was a frequent favorite. Simple. Filling. Versatile.

After some weeks together, the children had divvied up the tasks according to their strengths. Eursulon, with his clever nose, always brought the freshest, tastiest, peak vegetables in from the garden and the best dry goods from the storage shed. Suvi, with exacting precision, counted the seconds to boil the eggs for perfectly jammy yolks (three hundred and seventy-five) and minced the ginger and garlic until they were completely uniform. And Ame, with keen intuition, measured and balanced flavors in a way that couldn’t be replicated with weights and measures. 

And so it was that Ame rinsed about this many heaping handfuls of dry rice until the water ran clear before scraping it into the big cooking pot and pouring in water up to there while Suvi peeled the eggs to soak in the rich salty marinade, and Eursulon cracked the bones from last night’s roast and threw them into the pot so the marrow would flavor the broth. 

With preparations done, the three tumbled out the door to frolic outside while the pot simmered away, for the cooking of soups, stews, and porridges takes ages if one sits near the pot, but is over in no time at all when having fun with friends. 

All too soon, Grandma Wren was calling them back in for food.

She ladled their bowls with generous servings before adding a perfectly marinated egg in the middle of each bowl, sliced in half and arranged like a heart, and topped with a sprinkle of sea salt and a drizzle of oil, nutty and fragrant. The three ran to wash up, then came to the table just as they’d gone out, in a fond tumble of giggles and limbs so enmeshed one could scarcely tell where one ended and the next began.

“I humbly accept this meal, which I am about to eat,” they chorused, before digging in as one, a ravenous beast with three tongues.

Grandma Wren ate as well, slurping and smacking her lips in praise of what she was tasting, made even more filling and wholesome by the love of the hands that had made it. When their bowls were empty, the small family, variegated and disparate as they were, sat back and sighed in contentment.

Chapter Text

Oyako (chicken and egg) Jook

This dish goes by many names and is made similarly in just about all rice-eating cultures. You might also know it as congee, zhou, okayu, arroz caldo, or juk. 

This recipe is easily scalable for any number of portions and diets - base jook recipe is 1:5 uncooked rice to liquid. You can literally make this with just rice and water, but the recipe below is the way I ate it most often growing up. 

Begin with whole cooked chicken of your choice - boiled, roasted, whatever. After serving as normal, reserve the carcass (bones and organs) and shred any leftover meat into bite-sized morsels.

Thoroughly wash*** three cups of short-grain white rice and let soak in clean water for half an hour. 

Drain off soaking water and combine rice and about 3.75 - 4 quarts of water or chicken broth in a big ol' pot. Gently place the chicken carcass in the middle. Toss in a couple coins of sliced ginger and a few shakes of salt.

Bring to a boil. Lower heat, cover and simmer for about an hour, stirring occasionally. After an hour, remove the bones and ginger as best you can, then check the consistency of your rice porridge - the rice should be very soft, to the point that grains are starting to lose definition. 

Adjust thickness. I like to have mine at like, a thick oatmeal consistency, but many people like it soupy. To thicken the jook, return to a boil and continue to cook uncovered for another 10 minutes or until it’s just a bit thinner than you want. It’ll thicken a little as it cools. To thin, let cool for about 20 minutes, then add water or broth until it’s to your liking.

Ladle individual portions into bowls. You can crack a raw egg directly into the bowl and mix it in (the heat of the jook will cook it), or you can cook your egg however you like best and lay it over the top. If you’re feeling fancy, try the marinated egg recipe below (start the eggs about an hour before the jook). Serve steaming, garnished with any or all of the following: shredded leftover chicken, coarsely chopped fresh spring onion, a sprinkle of sesame seeds, and a little drizzle of soy sauce.

***If you do not routinely cook rice, the procedure is as follows: Start by measuring your dry rice into a bowl. Fill the bowl with water and swish gently in circles with a claw-shaped hand, fingertips buried deep in the rice. Watch the water get cloudy. Drain off most of the cloudy water, using your hand to keep the rice in the bowl. Do not use soap or scrubbing implements of any kind, clean water and your bare hands are all you need. Repeat for a total of 3-5 rinses, until the drained water is quite clear. Drain off as much of the rinsing water as you can before proceeding to soaking. 

Marinated Eggs

This is one of those recipes I know by heart and make by measuring nothing, but I’ll share it anyway.

Start by making half-boiled eggs. My grandfather called these “onsen (hot spring) eggs,” a halfway point between soft and hard boiled, where the yolks are just starting to firm. Boil water with a splash of vinegar and a generous pinch of salt. Once the water is fully boiling, add room temperature eggs. Return to a boil and cook to desired doneness. For me that's 375 seconds (six minutes and fifteen seconds), but most people will probably want to cook about 30 seconds longer. Remove the eggs to ice cold water and let chill for about ten minutes.

While the eggs chill, make the marinade.

Chop garlic - about one large clove per egg. Don’t be shy, this recipe likes a fuckton of garlic. Go ham. Throw that in a deep bowl and add about an equal amount of honey and brown sugar as the mass of garlic. Add gochujang (Korean sweet chili paste) to your liking. I add about the same amount as the previous three ingredients, so far we’re at a rough 1:1:1:1 ratio. Drown the solids with shoyu (soy sauce). Stir well. 

Taste and adjust. The flavor at this point should be sweet, spicy, and salty, with a noticeable garlic kick. Don’t worry if this seems too intense, we’re going to mellow it out. Just aim for “complex and appealing.”  

Garnish with a generous drizzle of sesame oil, black and white sesame seeds, and chopped fresh spring onion. 

Peel your chilled eggs and place in your mixture. Add water so that the liquid covers the eggs completely. Let soak for at least 1 hour, but ideally overnight in the fridge. Marinade can be reused for subsequent batches of eggs. Eggs can be stored in the marinade for a few days in the fridge.