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Homemade Garlic Naan — The Bread I Make When the Kitchen Is Quiet and Mine

Hana's six-month checkup was Tuesday. Dr. Hernandez pronounced her "thriving — weight, length, head circumference all on track. She's developing beautifully." I wanted to say: of course she is. She is fed by four grandmothers and two parents and a nanny who speaks Korean to her and a kitchen that never stops cooking. She is the most nutritionally supported child in Seattle. But I just said, "Thank you." The doctor does not need my internal monologue about the grandmother-industrial complex.

Hana is sitting up on her own now — wobbly, brief, triumphant. She sits on the play mat and reaches for toys and topples over and looks startled and tries again. The persistence is all Park. The toppling is all infant. She will sit. She will stand. She will walk. She will run. She will one day walk into a kitchen and cook for herself, and the cooking will contain me and James and Jisoo and Karen and Grace, all of us folded into whatever dish she makes, the way every cook is a library of everyone who cooked for them.

I have been working full-time at Banchan Labs for a month now and the rhythm has settled. I am in the SoDo kitchen from 8 to noon four days a week. I develop recipes. I test recipes. I argue with Grace about salt levels (she always wants more salt; she is always right). I pack boxes on shipping days. I answer customer emails in the afternoon while Hana naps. The work is physical and creative and meaningful in a way that Amazon never was, not because Amazon was bad but because Amazon was not for me the way this is for me. This is for me. The kitchen is for me. The boxes are for me. The recipe cards with Jisoo's name on them are for me. I found my right-sized life. It took fifteen years at Amazon and one birth mother in Busan and one Korean grandmother in SoDo and one baby with two teeth to find it.

The recipe this week is a simple dubu-kimchi — stir-fried kimchi with pork belly, served with warm tofu. This is one of the most popular Korean anju (drinking snacks) and one of the most satisfying quick meals I know. Pork belly, sliced thin, rendered until crispy. Aged kimchi, added to the pork fat, stir-fried until caramelized. A splash of kimchi juice. A sprinkle of sugar. Served beside a block of warm silken tofu. Eat the pork-kimchi on the tofu. The combination — crispy, spicy, fermented pork with soft, neutral tofu — is one of the great Korean flavor marriages. I eat this at the counter on nights when James works late and Hana is asleep and I want something fast and satisfying and mine. The tofu does not judge. The kimchi does not care about my schedule. The pork belly sizzles and I am happy and the kitchen is quiet and the quiet is full.

On the nights James works late and Hana is asleep and I have already eaten my kimchi at the counter and still want something warm in my hands, I make naan. Not because it is Korean, not because Jisoo taught me — she did not — but because bread made in a hot skillet is one of the most grounding things a kitchen can produce, and right now, grounding is what I am after. A right-sized life still needs something to pull apart and eat slowly, and garlic naan, blistered and buttered and smelling like everything good, is exactly that.

Homemade Garlic Naan

Prep Time: 15 minutes + 45 minutes rest | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes | Servings: 8 pieces

Ingredients

  • 2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 3/4 cup warm water (about 110°F)
  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/4 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
  • 2 tablespoons neutral oil (such as avocado or canola), plus more for the bowl
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 3 cloves garlic, finely minced
  • 2 tablespoons fresh cilantro or flat-leaf parsley, chopped (optional)
  • Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Instructions

  1. Activate the yeast. In a small bowl, combine the warm water, sugar, and yeast. Stir gently and let sit for 5–8 minutes until foamy. If it does not foam, your yeast is not active — start over with fresh yeast.
  2. Mix the dough. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour and salt. Make a well in the center and add the yeast mixture, yogurt, and oil. Stir with a fork until a shaggy dough forms, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 5–6 minutes until smooth and slightly tacky.
  3. Let it rise. Lightly oil the bowl, return the dough, and cover with a clean kitchen towel. Let rise in a warm spot for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until roughly doubled in size.
  4. Make the garlic butter. While the dough rises, melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Add the minced garlic and cook gently for 1–2 minutes until fragrant but not browned. Remove from heat and stir in the herbs if using. Set aside.
  5. Divide and shape. Punch down the dough and divide it into 8 equal pieces. On a lightly floured surface, roll each piece into an oval or teardrop shape, about 1/4 inch thick.
  6. Cook the naan. Heat a cast-iron or heavy skillet over high heat until very hot — about 2 minutes. Place one piece of dough in the dry skillet and cook for 1 1/2 to 2 minutes, until large bubbles form and the underside is darkly spotted. Flip and cook another 60–90 seconds. Remove and immediately brush generously with garlic butter. Repeat with remaining pieces, keeping finished naan wrapped in a clean towel to stay warm and pliable.
  7. Finish and serve. Sprinkle with flaky sea salt. Serve immediately, stacked and wrapped, while the butter is still glistening.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 215 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 31g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 280mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 435 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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