Argentinean food is the center of many gatherings. Their cuisine is what bonds them together. They will often have family members and friends over for an asado. Although, I have never participated in an asado I find the custom extremely interesting.
The group will gather in the afternoon and begin the asado by roasting sausages and small meats. The guests who offer to help will be politely, but firmly, denied. The host is territorial over the grill - which is more like a large burning of coals with metal grates covering them up, sometimes stretching for several yards. The host will do all the roasting, which ends up being many in quantity and variety.
After the sausages are consumed, the next stage is other types of meat such as roasting beef (steak, tongue, udder, large hunks etc) and then they move onto pork. The roasting will go on for several hours, long into the night. The cooking times provide time for the stomach to rest and gear up for the next course.
A lovely sauce, that they put on the meat called "chimichurri", is made with parsley, garlic, olive oil and shallots. It is very flavorful and fresh. And adds a perfect compliment to the meats or the salad and rice that is prepared by the women in an asado.
The asado is not just a time for people to come and eat together. It provides several hours of slowing down, not rushing to consume everything at ones. They talk about life and events while sitting over the fire roasting meats. They pick the bones of a rib while they sing a tango. They look at the stars as night falls, breathing in the aroma of steak and enjoy the time spent with their friends.
Although I have never participated in an asado, it inspires me to find ways to slow down life, enjoy the moment, and have a slab of steak. Perhaps, by sitting by the grill with my family and playing darts, talking about politics, or maybe just sitting. I encourage you to enjoy your family in new and peaceful ways. Perhaps, around the grill!
Friday, April 26, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Music of Burundi
There is not a lot of information about Burundian music, however most of their music is very traditional and goes far back into their history.
The traditional music of a Burundian stems from the villages. After a hard day of labor, the family unit would gather and someone would play a traditional instrument. Sometimes they would pull out a flute or recorder made from wood or bones, other times drums made of stretched leather.
As the music would play a simple rhythmic tune, a whisper-like voice would come in and sing. Perhaps, they would sing familiar tunes or make up new ones. Sometimes the voice would not say any words, but contort their voice into new sounds. The voice would rarely make it about a whisper adding a mysterious quality.
The music of Burundi sometimes discusses their violent pasts. The bloodshed, pain and horror that the musicians felt, reaches into anyone of the listeners hearts. They will also sing about their love for Burundi itself: the mountains, plains, animals and people. This too will give a connection between the composer and the listener.
Burundian villagers use music as one of their few forms of entertainment and relaxation. Even the most untalented at performing the music is able to enjoy and connect with it on a deeper level. It becomes a bridge between strangers, a bond that sometimes is deeper than one could imagine.
The traditional music of a Burundian stems from the villages. After a hard day of labor, the family unit would gather and someone would play a traditional instrument. Sometimes they would pull out a flute or recorder made from wood or bones, other times drums made of stretched leather.
As the music would play a simple rhythmic tune, a whisper-like voice would come in and sing. Perhaps, they would sing familiar tunes or make up new ones. Sometimes the voice would not say any words, but contort their voice into new sounds. The voice would rarely make it about a whisper adding a mysterious quality.
The music of Burundi sometimes discusses their violent pasts. The bloodshed, pain and horror that the musicians felt, reaches into anyone of the listeners hearts. They will also sing about their love for Burundi itself: the mountains, plains, animals and people. This too will give a connection between the composer and the listener.
Burundian villagers use music as one of their few forms of entertainment and relaxation. Even the most untalented at performing the music is able to enjoy and connect with it on a deeper level. It becomes a bridge between strangers, a bond that sometimes is deeper than one could imagine.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
A Burundian's Meal
When studying Burundian food, a few things stood out to me. One was that they rarely eat meat. Because meat is so expensive and scarce, they may only eat it once or twice a month. If they are well off, they may be able to afford it once a week. Burundian’s derive most of their protein from beans, specifically kidney beans. This they eat daily, mostly paired with rice and maybe another kind of vegetable. I decided that I would try my hand at a vegetarian African meal that included kidney beans.
I made Makande soup, which is comprised of corn, kidney beans, coconut milk, and onion, seasoned with salt and pepper. Although, this seems overly simple and not extremely tasty I decided it was a great way to get a glimpse of a Burundian's life. Since I used canned veggies and milk, I simply dumped all the ingredients in the pot and simmered for about thirty minutes. When it was finished cooking, I tasted it tentatively. Instead of the bland flavor I was expecting, it was tasty. A delicate flavor, but flavor nonetheless. The coconut milk added a slight creaminess, yet it was liquid. The different textures of the veggies made it interesting to eat and very colorful!
I paired the soup with a loaf of homemade French bread. I chose French, because Burundians cook lots of French food for the tourists. In addition, the natives have come to love French bread. In the city, if they can afford it, they pair it with every meal.
I also made some cooked carrots with brown sugar and butter, an African dish.
My family enjoyed the soup, and it was so very easy! My brother commented that he did not find it flavorful enough. He is one who enjoys spicy food immensely. Therefore, if your family eats mostly spicy dishes they may find the soup bland. However, eating foods from different cultures is not just about eating. It is about stepping into a new country’s culture and living as if they would for a brief second. No, I didn't cook over a campfire, yes I had a heater going, but when I sat down to the meal I could imagine how a Burundian family may be sitting down to the very same meal. It made me think about what it would be like to have kidney beans and rice everyday. The cultural experience I created in our bowls was more flavorful than any soup could be.
I made Makande soup, which is comprised of corn, kidney beans, coconut milk, and onion, seasoned with salt and pepper. Although, this seems overly simple and not extremely tasty I decided it was a great way to get a glimpse of a Burundian's life. Since I used canned veggies and milk, I simply dumped all the ingredients in the pot and simmered for about thirty minutes. When it was finished cooking, I tasted it tentatively. Instead of the bland flavor I was expecting, it was tasty. A delicate flavor, but flavor nonetheless. The coconut milk added a slight creaminess, yet it was liquid. The different textures of the veggies made it interesting to eat and very colorful!
I paired the soup with a loaf of homemade French bread. I chose French, because Burundians cook lots of French food for the tourists. In addition, the natives have come to love French bread. In the city, if they can afford it, they pair it with every meal.
I also made some cooked carrots with brown sugar and butter, an African dish.
My family enjoyed the soup, and it was so very easy! My brother commented that he did not find it flavorful enough. He is one who enjoys spicy food immensely. Therefore, if your family eats mostly spicy dishes they may find the soup bland. However, eating foods from different cultures is not just about eating. It is about stepping into a new country’s culture and living as if they would for a brief second. No, I didn't cook over a campfire, yes I had a heater going, but when I sat down to the meal I could imagine how a Burundian family may be sitting down to the very same meal. It made me think about what it would be like to have kidney beans and rice everyday. The cultural experience I created in our bowls was more flavorful than any soup could be.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
New York and Burundi
The author of Strength in What Remains explores the experience of a young Burundian man, fresh out of the violence of Burundi and thrust into the city life of New York. The young man recounts what life was like before the violence broke out in Burundi. He also tells the story of a New Yorker who is amidst the luxuries of America without a place to rest his head.
Deo lived in a small village in the mountains of Burundi. When he was a young child he and his slightly older brother would make the long, over two mile, trek to a stream, where they would gather the water for the household’s use. They were careful to reach the water supply in the daylight hours to be able to avoid nests of tadpoles in the stream. Then, they would make the over two-mile trudge home carrying their heavy burdens.
During the day, before Deo was of school age, he would help tend the cows that his family was blessed enough to have. The cows were what their lives depended on, without them they would starve. As a young child, he would tend the calves in the field, guiding them back into grazing pasture when they wandered.
When Deo reached school age, his chores did not stop; however, with sacrifices from his parents he was able to attend school as well. In school, Deo was taught with vigorous discipline; severe punishment was the result of questions. If Deo was late because of the several mile walk up the mountains, he was beaten with a switch several times. Nonetheless, Deo enjoyed learning.
When Deo was school age, he noticed that classmates would stop attending school. Their seats would remain empty and he could hear through the pane-less window the sounds of a funeral by the graveyard. Deo had witnessed several of his classmates pass away, because of sickness (like malaria) or malnutrition.
Although there were many hardships that Deo faced, there were also comforts. Family was an important part to a Burundian, the family unit was often tight and Deo had a loving family. His father was stern and his mother sometimes overly emotional, but he knew they both loved him and his siblings more than anything. His grandfather was someone who Deo looked up to all his life, even long after his grandfather had died.
After the chores were completed and darkness covered the Burundian village, Deo’s grandfather would pull out his flute and play traditional songs. Sometimes a neighbor would join in with the whisper-like singing and the night would be filled with peaceful music. Deo loved it most when his grandfather would tell them folktales. Often based off the events of the day, but the Grandfather’s imagination would stretch the story into something new and creative.
In New York, Deo found himself on the lower end of the world. Even lower than when he was in Burundi growing up. Having only two hundred dollars when he escaped the massacres, Deo was homeless. He stayed in an abandoned building with other squatters. There he saw and heard unsavory sights. Prostitutes were, freely giving out what was precious in Burundi, sacred even, in public. Deo found it disgusting. Soon he could no longer take the thieves and prostitutes and decided to live in the newly discovered Central Park.
He moved about the park until he found a sleeping place that was not covered with urine, and the police would let him sleep. There he set claim as his and slept their night after night.
Deo was confused by the world that surrounded him. In one world, it was posh, expensive, glitzy, and respectable and in another - the one he occupied - it was disgusting, poor, and the treatment was horrible. Doe worked as a grocery deliverer and was paid bellow minimum wage, barely enough to buy enough food to survive, let alone get shelter.
When Deo was on his rounds, he would wait by the service entrance for several minutes before someone would come to collect the groceries to deliver to the costumer. The curriers treated Deo as if he were less than human, a creature without brain or heart. Deo was a non-person in New York. There was no respect given to him.
He would ponder where he would rather live, New York or Burundi in peacetime. Every time he would come to the same conclusion that Burundi was the better option. In Burundi, they respected you as a person, you may have had an extremely hard life, abuse even, but at the end of the day you could gather, sing, and tell tales. You were a human. Even the cruel school teachers thought what they were doing was best for you. They thought by being beaten you would learn crucial skills. The Burundian people valued each other during peacetime.
In New York, you were only valued if you had the right kind of clothes, spoke English well, had shelter over your head, and could afford decent food. This was not how Deo wanted to live.
Deo looked at the graffiti on the subway walls, the sexually explicit words and pictures. He saw these as a cry from Harlem to the posh side of the city. Harlem wanted to be valued, they wanted help, they were living in two different worlds. Deo preferred the third world.
Deo lived in a small village in the mountains of Burundi. When he was a young child he and his slightly older brother would make the long, over two mile, trek to a stream, where they would gather the water for the household’s use. They were careful to reach the water supply in the daylight hours to be able to avoid nests of tadpoles in the stream. Then, they would make the over two-mile trudge home carrying their heavy burdens.
During the day, before Deo was of school age, he would help tend the cows that his family was blessed enough to have. The cows were what their lives depended on, without them they would starve. As a young child, he would tend the calves in the field, guiding them back into grazing pasture when they wandered.
When Deo reached school age, his chores did not stop; however, with sacrifices from his parents he was able to attend school as well. In school, Deo was taught with vigorous discipline; severe punishment was the result of questions. If Deo was late because of the several mile walk up the mountains, he was beaten with a switch several times. Nonetheless, Deo enjoyed learning.
When Deo was school age, he noticed that classmates would stop attending school. Their seats would remain empty and he could hear through the pane-less window the sounds of a funeral by the graveyard. Deo had witnessed several of his classmates pass away, because of sickness (like malaria) or malnutrition.
Although there were many hardships that Deo faced, there were also comforts. Family was an important part to a Burundian, the family unit was often tight and Deo had a loving family. His father was stern and his mother sometimes overly emotional, but he knew they both loved him and his siblings more than anything. His grandfather was someone who Deo looked up to all his life, even long after his grandfather had died.
After the chores were completed and darkness covered the Burundian village, Deo’s grandfather would pull out his flute and play traditional songs. Sometimes a neighbor would join in with the whisper-like singing and the night would be filled with peaceful music. Deo loved it most when his grandfather would tell them folktales. Often based off the events of the day, but the Grandfather’s imagination would stretch the story into something new and creative.
In New York, Deo found himself on the lower end of the world. Even lower than when he was in Burundi growing up. Having only two hundred dollars when he escaped the massacres, Deo was homeless. He stayed in an abandoned building with other squatters. There he saw and heard unsavory sights. Prostitutes were, freely giving out what was precious in Burundi, sacred even, in public. Deo found it disgusting. Soon he could no longer take the thieves and prostitutes and decided to live in the newly discovered Central Park.
He moved about the park until he found a sleeping place that was not covered with urine, and the police would let him sleep. There he set claim as his and slept their night after night.
Deo was confused by the world that surrounded him. In one world, it was posh, expensive, glitzy, and respectable and in another - the one he occupied - it was disgusting, poor, and the treatment was horrible. Doe worked as a grocery deliverer and was paid bellow minimum wage, barely enough to buy enough food to survive, let alone get shelter.
When Deo was on his rounds, he would wait by the service entrance for several minutes before someone would come to collect the groceries to deliver to the costumer. The curriers treated Deo as if he were less than human, a creature without brain or heart. Deo was a non-person in New York. There was no respect given to him.
He would ponder where he would rather live, New York or Burundi in peacetime. Every time he would come to the same conclusion that Burundi was the better option. In Burundi, they respected you as a person, you may have had an extremely hard life, abuse even, but at the end of the day you could gather, sing, and tell tales. You were a human. Even the cruel school teachers thought what they were doing was best for you. They thought by being beaten you would learn crucial skills. The Burundian people valued each other during peacetime.
In New York, you were only valued if you had the right kind of clothes, spoke English well, had shelter over your head, and could afford decent food. This was not how Deo wanted to live.
Deo looked at the graffiti on the subway walls, the sexually explicit words and pictures. He saw these as a cry from Harlem to the posh side of the city. Harlem wanted to be valued, they wanted help, they were living in two different worlds. Deo preferred the third world.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Rasputin
Rasputin was born of good peasant stock, though his parents were not gentlemen they were proud of their successful horse ranch. Rasputin, however, did not take pride in his parents' occupation. He rather took pride in immoral activities. Getting drunk, having inappropriate relations with women, and petty theft were his pastimes. The fellow peasants thought he was a good-for-nothing young man, who would have very little effect on the world. They were gravely mistaken.
As the villagers grew tired of their daughters becoming corrupt and their village vandalized, they decided to banish Rasputin. For penance he chose to spend his banishment at a monastery. Here he came up with the ideology, to validate his sin, that in order to be close to God one had to perform sin. Deciding that this message was something the world should know, Rasputin started traveling around Europe. During his travels he gained insight into how people thought, acted, and worked. This aided him considerably when he went to St. Petersburg Russia.
News had traveled to St. Petersburg about Rasputin, even before he had arrived. The high society ladies were intensely curious about a man who claimed to be holy, but glorified sinning. The ladies of the upper-class invited Rasputin to their social events to discover who this strange monk really was.
After about a month of Rasputin wining and dinning with the noble people, the tsar and tsarina began to become curious in what this holy man could do. They invited him to the palace and the result of this growing friendship was disastrous, for their family, and the country.
Young Alexander had a blood clotting disease that only a select few people knew about. While Rasputin was visiting, the young boy had an attack and was seriously ill. The strange monk visited the boy's bedside and somehow stopped the bleeding. This made the Tsar's family indebted to Rasputin. Rasputin's bond with the family grew as on multiple occasions he appeared to save the boy's life.
However, with this new association to the royal family it did not curve Rasputin's immoral lifestyle outside of the palace. He went to bars and bragged about the relationships with the tsar's family. He even went as far as insinuate that he and the tsarina were having an affair. The Russian people began to wonder if there was truth in what Rasputin was saying. As a letter was circulated written by the tsarina that declared her affection for Rasputin, the rumors began to be wildly accepted as fact. Although it is doubtful that such a relationship actually occurred, we will never know for sure.
The Russian people began to think of Rasputin not as a man of God, but a devil. They thought that he had growing power over the tsar's decisions - which he did. The tsar's reputation was being tainted and the people were quickly loosing faith in them.
As Rasputin began to become even more vial in public, the people grew hateful and spiteful. Some of the noblemen - one related to the tsar - realized that Rasputin’s reputation was discrediting the royal family. They feared that if Rasputin was allowed to live soon there would be an over throw of the government. The noblemen plotted and succeeded in murdering the mad monk, thinking this would be the remedy to the problem.
However, the damage was already done. A coup was in process - partly due to the tsar's politics and partially because of the new distaste for the royal family. The tsar was forced to resign his position and the family was sent to Siberia.
Soon thereafter, the family was sent down into the basement of their small Siberian house and lined up against the wall. Guns were aimed at them and they were all shot repeatedly.
Rasputin brought shame, distaste, and haltered into the royal family's lives. He turned the people against them through his reputation and his prideful bragging. Although in effort to save the family's regime, Rasputin was murdered, the hatred was already in place. The family who was beloved by the Russian people were turned into the hated enemy. Rasputin's entry into the royal family's lives - who sought his help for life - ended in their death.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Kim Il Sung
Kim Il Sung has been viewed as an insane dictator, who had very little hope of becoming a Christian - or even moral! There was a time in Kim's life where things were different. However, it is true that Kim Il Sung was very power hungry, fearful and selfish.
While North Korea was starving Kim Il Sung would have expensive food flown in from all over the world. Everything he ate was to aid in his longevity. Kim Il Sung and his officers were so frightened of his death that everything Kim did was recorded for posterity sake. Kim also had an huge amount of doctors, also flown in from around the world. Every body part was assigned to a set of doctors, the East Germans received the task of working on his neck and head. Kim Il Sung even had a special toilet that traveled with him. The device would automatically examine his excrete to make sure that he was healthy and digesting well!
Kim Il Sung, also, had a terrible fear of being forgotten. To prevent being forgotten he had someone follow him around writing down his every observation, his every word! This was considered "holy writ" and was respected by every North Korean as one would respect the Bible. Kim also had over three hundred thousands monuments erected in his honor. This figure does not count all the benches that he sat on in public. Those, instead, got a glass box covering them with a small plaque and are not considered monuments.
If a North Korean were to disrespect Kim Il Sung in anyway, by being disrespectful to a monument, sitting on a picture of Kim Il Sung, speaking against him, or any other form, intentionally or not, they would be severely punished. They would be sent to a horrible prison. People who escaped North Korea report that the prisons are filthy, the prisoners are practically starved, and they are used as slave labor. Most of the prisoners are political.
That is just one horrific way that Kim Il Sung abuses his power. Most of the extremely strange laws have to do with Kim's pride. Another example of this, is that Kim Il Sung never had conversations with anyone. When he spoke to someone, whether it was a guest or a solider, they had to stand at attention and await orders. What a lonely life that must have been! However, it is what Kim Il Sung chose, he choose power over friendship. And that is what he lived with.
Kim Il Sung was able to get away with such abuse because he didn't just run a communist country, he ran a cult. All of his decisions - or excuses for his decisions - were based on the word Jushe. Which is an ancient philosophy that there is one leader, the god head, who is like the brain. Then there is the nervous system, the officers, that is a liaison between the god head and the people. And then there are the people who simply carry out the tasks assigned to them.
People who have escaped North Korea have reported that those who didn't hate North Korea, loved it. Some Koreans are unable to keep the bombardment of brainwashing out and critical thinking in, they begin to love their abuser and would do anything for him. Others, are able to get enough outside information to know that something isn't right, and risk their lives to flee or protest the dictatorship.
People never start out with the intent to become a power-hungry fearful man. There are life situations that push them toward that. Yes, it is still their choice, but there is always a back story. And there certainly is in regards to Kim Il Sung! Kim was born to Christian parents, his grandfather was a pastor, his father went to missionary school and was an elder, and his mother was a devote Christian and strived to be a good mother. Kim would have learned about Jesus Christ as savior from a very early age. It is unknown if Kim Il Sung accepted Jesus Christ when he was a child, due to revisionist history it is sometimes hard to tell what is true and what is fabrication.
However, we do know that when Kim Il Sung was a teenager he began getting into some trouble. In school he would challenge the teachers and pick fights with the students. He was a classic problem child and couldn't wait to get out of school and his parents lives. What changed is, again, unclear. But, something did, it is unlikely that someone would rebel for no reason.
As a young adult Kim Il Sung joined the gorilla warfare in China on the soviet side. He stayed in the soviet camp for a few decades. The soldiers knew him well, and had been able to thoroughly turn him over to communism. When it was time for Russia to pick a leader for Korea they chose Kim, because he was Korean and the people would be less likely to rebel if one of their own was in power, and because he was very communist. That was when the power and fear began to grow, and matured it to who we knew, the Dictator Kim Il Sung.
When one looks at Kim Il Sung's actions and life it is hard to tell that there would be any hope of him becoming a Christian. Yes, God is big enough to do anything, but it seems unlikely that Kim would ever be open enough to seeing God. However, if one were to dig a little deeper the amazing revelation is that Kim already had the seeds planted, and was perhaps, already struggling with the knowledge of God. Everyone has a back-story, the most hopeless person could be the one closest to becoming aware of God. Unfortunately, it is too late to pray for Kim Il Sung for he passed away just a few years ago. Let this be a lesson to us all; not only is God powerful enough to help anyone, but someone may be closer to being helped than you think.
While North Korea was starving Kim Il Sung would have expensive food flown in from all over the world. Everything he ate was to aid in his longevity. Kim Il Sung and his officers were so frightened of his death that everything Kim did was recorded for posterity sake. Kim also had an huge amount of doctors, also flown in from around the world. Every body part was assigned to a set of doctors, the East Germans received the task of working on his neck and head. Kim Il Sung even had a special toilet that traveled with him. The device would automatically examine his excrete to make sure that he was healthy and digesting well!
Kim Il Sung, also, had a terrible fear of being forgotten. To prevent being forgotten he had someone follow him around writing down his every observation, his every word! This was considered "holy writ" and was respected by every North Korean as one would respect the Bible. Kim also had over three hundred thousands monuments erected in his honor. This figure does not count all the benches that he sat on in public. Those, instead, got a glass box covering them with a small plaque and are not considered monuments.
If a North Korean were to disrespect Kim Il Sung in anyway, by being disrespectful to a monument, sitting on a picture of Kim Il Sung, speaking against him, or any other form, intentionally or not, they would be severely punished. They would be sent to a horrible prison. People who escaped North Korea report that the prisons are filthy, the prisoners are practically starved, and they are used as slave labor. Most of the prisoners are political.
That is just one horrific way that Kim Il Sung abuses his power. Most of the extremely strange laws have to do with Kim's pride. Another example of this, is that Kim Il Sung never had conversations with anyone. When he spoke to someone, whether it was a guest or a solider, they had to stand at attention and await orders. What a lonely life that must have been! However, it is what Kim Il Sung chose, he choose power over friendship. And that is what he lived with.
Kim Il Sung was able to get away with such abuse because he didn't just run a communist country, he ran a cult. All of his decisions - or excuses for his decisions - were based on the word Jushe. Which is an ancient philosophy that there is one leader, the god head, who is like the brain. Then there is the nervous system, the officers, that is a liaison between the god head and the people. And then there are the people who simply carry out the tasks assigned to them.
People who have escaped North Korea have reported that those who didn't hate North Korea, loved it. Some Koreans are unable to keep the bombardment of brainwashing out and critical thinking in, they begin to love their abuser and would do anything for him. Others, are able to get enough outside information to know that something isn't right, and risk their lives to flee or protest the dictatorship.
People never start out with the intent to become a power-hungry fearful man. There are life situations that push them toward that. Yes, it is still their choice, but there is always a back story. And there certainly is in regards to Kim Il Sung! Kim was born to Christian parents, his grandfather was a pastor, his father went to missionary school and was an elder, and his mother was a devote Christian and strived to be a good mother. Kim would have learned about Jesus Christ as savior from a very early age. It is unknown if Kim Il Sung accepted Jesus Christ when he was a child, due to revisionist history it is sometimes hard to tell what is true and what is fabrication.
However, we do know that when Kim Il Sung was a teenager he began getting into some trouble. In school he would challenge the teachers and pick fights with the students. He was a classic problem child and couldn't wait to get out of school and his parents lives. What changed is, again, unclear. But, something did, it is unlikely that someone would rebel for no reason.
As a young adult Kim Il Sung joined the gorilla warfare in China on the soviet side. He stayed in the soviet camp for a few decades. The soldiers knew him well, and had been able to thoroughly turn him over to communism. When it was time for Russia to pick a leader for Korea they chose Kim, because he was Korean and the people would be less likely to rebel if one of their own was in power, and because he was very communist. That was when the power and fear began to grow, and matured it to who we knew, the Dictator Kim Il Sung.
When one looks at Kim Il Sung's actions and life it is hard to tell that there would be any hope of him becoming a Christian. Yes, God is big enough to do anything, but it seems unlikely that Kim would ever be open enough to seeing God. However, if one were to dig a little deeper the amazing revelation is that Kim already had the seeds planted, and was perhaps, already struggling with the knowledge of God. Everyone has a back-story, the most hopeless person could be the one closest to becoming aware of God. Unfortunately, it is too late to pray for Kim Il Sung for he passed away just a few years ago. Let this be a lesson to us all; not only is God powerful enough to help anyone, but someone may be closer to being helped than you think.
My Experience Cooking Korean
Although I haven't had an occasion to eat any South Korean dishes, I have always enjoyed smelling the foreign aromas of Asian food. I was curious to see what kinds of flavors would accompany the everyday ingredients that comprise a Korean dish. I decided to try my hand at South Korean meals, making roast chicken and stir fried noodles.
The chicken was extremely easy to make. All that I had to do was place chicken breasts into a casserole dish; blend; soy sauce, olive oil, ginger and garlic; and pour it over the chicken. Then I baked the chicken for forty-five minutes on one side and fifteen on the other.
Despite the ease of the recipe, the taste wasn't as alluring. The chicken came out slightly dry and extremely salty. The flavor was adequate, once the overpowering saltiness died away. However, by the time you finished chewing you weren't thinking about the flavor as much as the desire water.
The stir fried noodles, on the other hand, were delicious. Not only did they taste wonderful, but it was a relaxing and enjoyable process. It was a manner of sautéing vegetables one at a time, mixing them in with four packets of Raman noodles and sauce left over from the chicken. The carrots were fairly easy to sauté, but it was a little difficult to find that "sweet spot" between too hard and too mushy. However, since they were watched carefully it wasn't impossible to reach. Also in the noodles were mushrooms, onions, green onions, and garlic. Perhaps the strangest part of this recipe was that in between sautéing each vegetable, I had to pull them out and place them with the pre-cooked noodles. This ended up making sense in the end; I was glad I didn't ignore the recipe.
It gave the noodles and vegetables a different flavor with each bite. If all of the vegetables were cooked at the same time some flavors would overpower others: onions erasing carrots, garlic overwhelming mushrooms, etc. However, with this method each bite had a slightly different flavor, depending on which vegetable was eaten.
In short, the noodles were a huge success. Since the recipe was fairly easy to follow and very relaxing to make, it is a recipe well worth the effort required. The chicken, on the other hand, was not as satisfying and left an overpowering salty taste.
I thoroughly enjoyed trying to create South Korean cuisine. Although I didn't get the desired result for one, I got a shockingly delicious result for the other. This inspires me to experiment with more South Korean dishes.
The chicken was extremely easy to make. All that I had to do was place chicken breasts into a casserole dish; blend; soy sauce, olive oil, ginger and garlic; and pour it over the chicken. Then I baked the chicken for forty-five minutes on one side and fifteen on the other.
Despite the ease of the recipe, the taste wasn't as alluring. The chicken came out slightly dry and extremely salty. The flavor was adequate, once the overpowering saltiness died away. However, by the time you finished chewing you weren't thinking about the flavor as much as the desire water.
The stir fried noodles, on the other hand, were delicious. Not only did they taste wonderful, but it was a relaxing and enjoyable process. It was a manner of sautéing vegetables one at a time, mixing them in with four packets of Raman noodles and sauce left over from the chicken. The carrots were fairly easy to sauté, but it was a little difficult to find that "sweet spot" between too hard and too mushy. However, since they were watched carefully it wasn't impossible to reach. Also in the noodles were mushrooms, onions, green onions, and garlic. Perhaps the strangest part of this recipe was that in between sautéing each vegetable, I had to pull them out and place them with the pre-cooked noodles. This ended up making sense in the end; I was glad I didn't ignore the recipe.
It gave the noodles and vegetables a different flavor with each bite. If all of the vegetables were cooked at the same time some flavors would overpower others: onions erasing carrots, garlic overwhelming mushrooms, etc. However, with this method each bite had a slightly different flavor, depending on which vegetable was eaten.
In short, the noodles were a huge success. Since the recipe was fairly easy to follow and very relaxing to make, it is a recipe well worth the effort required. The chicken, on the other hand, was not as satisfying and left an overpowering salty taste.
I thoroughly enjoyed trying to create South Korean cuisine. Although I didn't get the desired result for one, I got a shockingly delicious result for the other. This inspires me to experiment with more South Korean dishes.
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