Tanghulu -- The Sweetness That Finds You

Hana is twenty-three months old. One month until two. She is a full person now — opinionated, verbal, physical, funny. She tells jokes. Not sophisticated jokes — she says "bap" and then puts the rice on her head and laughs. It is the funniest thing she has ever done and she does it at every meal and James and I laugh every time because the toddler putting rice on her head is objectively hilarious and because the laughter is what she wants and giving her what she wants is easy when what she wants is laughter.

Karen and David's weekly Saturday visit has become a tradition Hana anticipates. She says "Ka-Ka coming" on Friday nights, and on Saturday mornings she stands at the front window watching for David's car. When she sees it, she says "Ka-Ka! Pa-Pa!" (her name for David — Pa-Pa, which David loves and which he says is "better than Grandpa, which sounds old, and I am not old, I am eighty-two and vigorous"). Karen comes through the door with her walker and Hana runs to her and wraps her arms around Karen's legs and Karen braces against the walker and reaches down with one shaking hand and touches Hana's hair and says, "Hello, my girl." The ritual is the same every week. The sameness is the love. The sameness is the safety. The sameness is Hana learning that her grandparents come on Saturdays and the coming is certain and the certainty is the foundation of her world.

I have been testing Jisoo's Kimchi for commercial production. The first test batch — fifty jars, produced in the SoDo kitchen under food safety guidelines — went to a panel of fifty subscribers for feedback. The results: 94% said they would buy it. 88% said it reminded them of "a grandmother's kimchi." One person wrote: "This is the kimchi that was missing from my life. I didn't know it was missing until I tasted it." I sent that email to Jisoo. She read it. She said, "The kimchi finds the people who need it." She is right. The kimchi finds them. The kimchi has always found them. The kimchi found me in a college restaurant in the International District and it has been finding me ever since.

The recipe this week is Jisoo's kimchi — the commercial version, the fifty-jar test batch, the one that is almost ready for the world. Napa cabbage, salted, rinsed, drained. Paste: gochugaru, fish sauce, fermented shrimp paste, garlic, ginger, scallions, rice flour paste. Massaged into every leaf. Packed into jars. Fermented at room temperature for two days. Refrigerated. The kimchi is Jisoo's. The jars are mine. The combination is Banchan Labs. The combination is the thread. The thread holds.

The week the fifty jars went out — feedback forms returned, 94% would-buy, one email that made Jisoo go quiet in the best way — I wanted to make something that felt like a reward but also like waiting: something that looks finished and bright on the outside and asks you to be patient while the sugar does its work. Tanghulu is that thing. It’s a street-food confection that I first saw in the International District years ago, not far from the restaurant where kimchi first found me, and making it that Saturday while Hana watched David’s car pull up felt exactly right — small, crystalline, certain, sweet.

Tanghulu

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 6 skewers

Ingredients

• 2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and patted completely dry
• 1 cup hawthorn berries or seedless grapes (optional, to mix skewers)
• 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 tablespoon light corn syrup
• 6 bamboo skewers (6–8 inches)
• Parchment paper and a rimmed baking sheet, lightly oiled

Instructions

1. Prepare the fruit. Thread 3–4 pieces of fruit onto each skewer, alternating strawberries and grapes or hawthorn if using. Set skewers on the prepared baking sheet. Fruit must be bone-dry — any moisture will prevent the candy shell from setting.
2. Make the syrup. Combine sugar, water, and corn syrup in a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-high heat. Stir once to dissolve the sugar, then stop stirring entirely. Attach a candy thermometer and cook until the syrup reaches 300°F (hard-crack stage), about 8–10 minutes. Watch it closely once it passes 280°F — it moves fast at the end.
3. Coat the skewers. Remove the pan from heat. Working quickly, tilt the saucepan and dip each skewer into the syrup, rotating to coat all the fruit in a thin, even layer. Lift out, let the excess drip for 2–3 seconds, then lay flat on the oiled parchment.
4. Set the shell. Let the coated skewers rest at room temperature for 3–5 minutes until the candy shell is fully hardened and glossy. Do not refrigerate — cold and humidity will make the shell weep and lose its crack.
5. Serve immediately. Tanghulu is best eaten within 30 minutes of coating. The crack of the candy shell against the cold, tart fruit underneath is the whole point — serve as soon as the shell is set.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 47g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 4mg