Crying in Grand Mart

...because their kimchi jars are perfect

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Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Somewhere along the way I became a jar person.

By this I mean I became a person who can spot and appreciate a good jar from the opposite end of the planet: “Hey, great jar!”

And the fellow jar-people (who are probably really proud of their saved, found, and otherwise-collected jars) usually appreciate my appreciation in turn. And not decorative, bought-for-the-looks jars from TJ Maxx. Jars that have been accrued over time via careful saving from the recycling bin.

I guess it began around the time that our City of Chesapeake suspended recycling pickup across the city. For a large city that recycles a lot, it felt like an unfortunate decision. Allegedly, we were recycling the wrong bits and pieces and the Very Whiny Recycling Men were tired of picking wooden popsicle sticks out of newspaper stacks, and crumpled tin foil out of tin cans. Okay, understandable.

But rather than having conversation with the errant Chesapeians, the Very Whiny Recycling Men cut us off forever. They created recycling drop-off spots instead in clandestine areas to which residents may cart their papers and plastics and glass and tin and drop it off themselves. I’m going to just say it: we have only taken one load, and that was a truck-bed full of moving boxes which we inexplicably still had hanging around our storage shed, two years after purchasing the house at Marsh Wren.

We are not model citizens. As a pseudo action, I still chuck all the things I want to recycle into our purposeless recycling bin. Andrew follows behind me and puts those things quietly into the trash. We are sad and ruinous. I want to do better. I shake my fist at the Very Whiny Recycling Men who complained so much and thus complicated our efforts at a greener life.

One good thing to arise out of this? My conscience against tossing perfectly good glass vessels. It was one thing to throw away dented tin cans, emptied of San Marzano tomatoes for last night’s skillet of shakshuka. It was another to finish a jar of blackcurrant jam, or a perfect little pot of chili crisp, or a tall, slender jar of garlic-stuffed olives and consider throwing it in the bin. I just couldn’t. They so clearly had a million years of life left. And so I began to keep the best ones, filling our dishwasher and then our limited drawer-space in the kitchen with jars for possible things. At first Andrew was confused: “Why all these jars? What are you going to use them for? We have too many!”

But as I deployed my collection of saved jars, even he came around to realizing that yeah, recycling pickup comes and goes but glass jars are forever. They are perfect for holding wet things (soups, sauces, dressings, jams, marinades, iced-coffees-to-drink-later, even yogurt parfaits) and dry things (oats, spices, espresso grounds, vanilla sugar). Some jars are nondescript and purely functional. And then there are the jars that will become as much your favorite as your sharpest paring knife, or that tiny spoon that you can’t enjoy a bowl of ice cream without.

Meet my family of favorite jars:

• a pear-shaped pint jar (Ball brand) with fancy cut glass detail that someone gifted us at Thanksgiving with a mid-century style cranberry salad inside. I discarded the salad and kept the jar. I now make an iced latte in it every morning and screw the lid on tight so it will travel safely to work.

• an amber colored ghee jar that is the perfect size for carrying a lunch-sized portion of soup. I have two others similar jars saved from a farmers’ market pickled veg stand purchase and I guard them with my life. They are probably 12 oz. jars? I have never measured.

• a Bonne Maman jam jar which holds half a bag of split green peas awaiting the next soup. BM jars are the absolute best. Their faceted sides and general appearance is so satisfying. I have a couple tablespoons of raspberry jam left in another, and am eyeing the jar like a vulture.

• a coalition of 4 oz. mini mason jars. These are half the height of a half-pint jar but, with a similar size mouth, are still large enough to navigate a spoon around. I keep one filled with bacon fat at all times in my fridge, and use the others as a rotating cast of bring-along dressings or dips for mine and Andrew’s packed lunches.

But the best and the brightest, the Crown Jewels of my kitchen jar collection, are the outsize glass jars I have emptied and hoarded as I slowly make my way through truly enormous amounts of kimchi. Sometime last year I realized that I was tired of buying $9 jars of kimchi that lasted two seconds from the regular grocery store. I took a trip to Grand Mart (the best international market in the area) and solved the entire problem by buying what was nearly the largest jar of homemade kimchi available in their refrigerator section. “What am I ever going to do with this much kimchi?” I thought at first. At that point, I wasn’t even thinking of the jar. I was just thinking of how much cheaper it was to spend $16 on a jar I could approximately sit in than it was to spend half that on a jar that would barely last one month.

So what would I do with all that kimchi? Silly question. Kimchi takes care of itself. We soon began to eat regular dinners of spicy, fragrant kimchi fried rice. I spool little forkfuls of kimchi into stir fry bowls, or alongside salmon and rice and sesame cucumbers. I’ve also accidentally become a sort of kimchi themed human - even the tote bag I carry is a kimchi-components print by artist Rachel Yumi Chung. Before I knew it I had finished one jar and then another. I only have a small container of that jar’s contents left.

Naturally, I made a pilgrimage today to Grand Mart to buy a third jar and a lot of other Asian grocery treats like a dried persimmon, fresh udon noodles, ginger chews, and cheap king oyster mushrooms; I digress. The kimchi jars are squat and round and huge. They hold sixty-four ounces but unlike the tall, top-heavy two-quart mason jars some of us are used to, these jars have their weight distributed side to side. Because of this, they fit better in the fridge and in cabinets and they make the perfect vessel in which to store and transport purely massive quantities of soup without fearing it’ll topple and spill all over the back of the car.

take a look at these jars. delightful things.

We brought a meal to our friends from church who just had a baby. Liz and Dean are cool. Like bronzed, surf-y people cool, but also relatable and approachable to those of us who are neither bronzed nor surf-y nor cool; they’re great. Anyway, we brought them a salad with homemade Greek vinaigrette, sourdough bread, brown butter cookies, and some lemon chicken soup. Soup in a kimchi jar. (Tell me, what are you supposed to transport Meal Train soup in? Reynold’s Wrap tin pans?)

After chatting for a bit, Dean happened to observe: “The food looks great, but I love what you brought it in. I mean, that’s a great jar.”

I glowed. I might as well have been the new mother in the room, I was so proud of my jar. “Isn’t it?”

“It is. Liz and I are huge jar people.”

“And bowl people!” Liz added from the floor where she was changing the baby.

I beamed. “Keep it.”

That kind of insight deserves reward. They’re not only effortlessly cool, but they know a good jar when they see one. And anyway, who doesn’t need a sixty-four-ounce kimchi jar in their collection? I’m one kimchi jar the poorer, and Liz and Dean are one kimchi jar the richer, and everybody is happy.

Jar people are the best people. It’s a fact.

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Should you need to buy an enormous jar of kimchi and try it yourself (the jar, not the kimchi), I am sure you will be looking for ways in which to use your multiple pounds of spicy, fermented cabbage. My favorite way, as stated, is kimchi fried rice. The following recipe is my shorthand version of the actual version taught to me by Maangchi’s Youtube video for kimchi bokkeumbap. You should make Maangchi’s version at some point, because it’s the most legitimate way and Maangchi is a really special teacher of Korean cooking. But I have tweaked and rearranged the recipe to fit my needs on a busy weeknight, adding eggs for more protein, extra veggies, and a smattering of fish sauce and rice vinegar at the end. The resulting recipe on offer is little more than a verbal description of what I do. But this recipe is endlessly adaptable. I have made it with and without added meat (leftover chicken, chopped shrimp); I have made it with more kimchi and less kimchi. I have add sriracha when the kimchi fire isn’t hot enough for me, or I’ve forgotten for the 1200th time that Maangchi adds hot pepper paste to hers. In the end, my framework is meant to embolden you to cook the version that becomes your own household favorite.

Weeknight Kimchi Fried Rice

1/2 yellow onion, chopped small

2 stalks celery, chopped same size as the onion

2 gloves garlic, chopped.

1 heaping cup kimchi, chopped, juices reserved

3-4 large eggs

3-4 cups rice (this is a good use of cold, leftover rice but I always end up making a fresh pot. No harm, no foul)

2 tablespoons neutral oil (I like to use coconut oil, but vegetable oil is most traditional)

2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

fish sauce (optional)

rice vinegar (optional)

sriracha or gochujang to adjust spicy level

chili crisp, green onion, sesame seeds, and/or seaweed for topping

1. Start by heating the neutral oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan or wok. I like to use a 12” skillet. Sauté the onion, celery, and garlic till tender, then add the kimchi and sauté a couple minutes longer.

2. Crack eggs into pan with veggies and scramble. If you are adding any meat, add it now. When all veg is sizzling and the eggs are no longer runny, add in the rice. Cook all ingredients together until the rice is uniformly mixed with the egg and veggies, then add in reserved kimchi juice and a splash of water, if necessary.

3. Drizzle in sesame oil, then taste. If it is not salty enough, I like to add a few strong dashes of fish sauce and taste again. Sometimes I’ll do a little fish sauce and a pinch of salt. I also add a bit of rice vinegar if I was shy on kimchi juice, to amp up the acidity of this dish. I start with approx. a tablespoon and taste from there. If you want it on the spicy side, add a couple tablespoons of sriracha or gochujang paste - I would work carefully so that you don’t over-spice this, as you can’t rectify that issue.

4. When rice is seasoned to your liking, remove from heat, serve into bowls, and top with chili crisp, green onion, sesame seeds, and/or small strips of seaweed. Enjoy!

Andrew, a former skeptic, on kimchi fried rice which he now counts as his favorite food I make. P.S. He also loves the jar.

“I’ve had fried rice before, but mostly from Chinese restaurants. When I was introduced to kimchi fried rice, I was a little wary about it because I’d never had it before. I didn’t know if I was going to like it because it had kimchi in it. However, like she always does, my wife explained what it is and encouraged me to try it! I obviously loved it! What makes it so delicious to me is that it gives a nice level of heat that I can tolerate and adds so much flavor to fried rice. It’s one of our staple meals that we make and I love it! 10/10 would recommend!”