Tta Roh Guk Bap

The unusually warm weather we've been having this February (highs in the 80's) has apparently come to an end. Not that it gets all that cold here in southern California - the high will be around 60 degrees for the rest of the week with lows in the 40's. But it's enough of a change to get me to try something different this morning as I perform my weekly Korean breakfast soup special, and I have ordered Tta Roh Guk Bap, spicy beef soup with brisket and dried cabbage. It seems more appropriate  as I discover condensation on my car windshield this morning.

I don't know if it's a good omen that the dried cabbage reminds me of the soups my mother would make with various dried Chinese vegetables when I got sick as a child; I've been fighting a sinus infection for over two weeks now. I finally relented and started an antibiotic regimen (500 mg amoxicillin twice daily) but frankly, I put more faith in the restorative power of asian soups and vegetables. At the very least, I'm looking for the spicy kimchi to help clear my sinuses as I use the pair of scissors on the table to cut the cabbage kimchi into bite size pieces to make them easier to eat with mouthfuls of my brown rice. The rice is actually closer to purple in color but that's not an issue to me as I dump the cabbage kimchi and the rest of the juice into my rice bowl. I'm sure I'm violating all sorts of Korean customs by doing so - and more so by picking up my bowl and using my chopsticks to shovel the contents of the bowl into my mouth. Unlike other Asian cultures, apparently Koreans do not pick up their rice bowls. So I try to do this only when no one seems to be watching. But I'm sure that they know - somehow. Maybe they check for fingerprints on the sides of the bowl or something.

Between the spice level and the funk of the dried cabbage, I sense no need to add salt like you might for sul long tang. The spice level has prompted me to perspire freely on my forehead and neck - the reaction to capsaicin routinely embarrasses me as I use up all available napkins trying to dry off. I am initially disappointed that the spice level does not seem to have had any effect on my sinuses. But then I sneeze and the subsequent attempt to blow my nose suggests that my sinuses are in fact clear of phlegm. So I apply pressure to the middle of my upper lip, momentarily prompting the blood vessels in my nose to expand and I am breathing normally. It appears that the soup and spices have done all they can, and I'm forced to check when I need to take my next dosage of amoxicillin. But never underestimate the restorative power of an Asian soup - especially when it's made by an elderly Asian women. I guess that's the point of this post.