Vegetable Brown Rice

Four weeks to Busan. The packing list is live. Korean phrase cards are in the travel folder. Korean Air seats confirmed. Hotel in Busan near Jisoo's apartment booked for the first five days; the next five at Jisoo's (her guest room); the last two at a hotel in Seoul so we can fly out from there and also see Jihoon's city. James has booked the domestic train from Busan to Seoul. He has made a Notion page for the trip. He has a Notion page. I love him.

Gifts are packed. For Jisoo: a Seattle-locked cookbook, a framed photo of me and Karen at Thanksgiving (Karen looking vibrant, from a good day), a bottle of Pacific Northwest honey from Woodinville, a scarf I chose. For Jun-ho (I am going to start using his name; abeoji feels presumptuous before meeting him): a bottle of Washington state whiskey that James recommended, a simple wool hat in charcoal. For Eunji: a silk scarf, a cookbook of American baking, a pair of earrings from a Seattle maker. For Jihoon: a Mariners hat (the one I had sent at Christmas was already much loved; he has requested a second), a book of essays about jazz (he mentioned he was getting into jazz), and a pair of socks I saw that made me laugh. For Jisoo's pastor (she asked): a good bottle of California Cabernet and a thank-you card in my best Korean.

Karen had a hard Tuesday. A medication adjustment went badly. She was nauseated for eight hours. David called me frantic at 10 PM and I drove out and sat with them until midnight. Karen was fine by morning. David was less fine. He was coming off a week of being brave and it caught up with him. I held him in the kitchen for a minute while Karen slept. He said, "I don't know if I can do this, Steph." I said, "You can. We can." I stayed over in my old bedroom. I made pancakes in the morning. David said, "You didn't have to stay." I said, "I know. I wanted to." I wanted to.

Jisoo and I had a short call this week — just half an hour, no translator, mostly in broken Korean and English, with a lot of gestures and "how do you say..." She was showing me her guest room, which she has been preparing for me. She has bought new sheets. She has bought a small lamp. She has hung a Korean scroll on the wall that says, in Korean, "welcome home." I saw the scroll. I cried again. She is getting used to me crying. She said, through the screen, "Stop crying, my daughter. You will run out of tears before you come." I laughed. I stopped crying. I told her I would keep some for the airport.

Dr. Yoon: we talked about the trip again. She said, "You may not be the same person when you come back. Are you ready for that?" I said, "I think so." She said, "You think so is the right answer. Nobody is fully ready. You are ready enough."

Work: I have started making a list of what I need to do at Amazon to leave cleanly. I am not leaving yet. But the list is real. It has seven items. The first one is: finish the Q1 launch properly. The second is: name a successor for the design lead role on the intent project. The third is: write my legacy document. I am going to leave gracefully. I do not want to be a person who slams doors.

The recipe this week is songpyeon — the half-moon-shaped Korean rice cakes filled with sweet things, typically made for Chuseok. I made them out of season because I wanted to practice before Busan. Mine were ugly but tasty — the shaping takes years to master, Jisoo says. Rice flour, hot water, filling of sweetened sesame seeds mixed with honey. Pinched into half-moon shapes. Steamed over pine needles (I used cabbage leaves; Seattle pine is not the same) for fifteen minutes. Glazed with a touch of sesame oil. I will not be good at them for years. I will keep making them.

I made the songpyeon this week and they were ugly and wonderful, and afterward I had a bowl of this vegetable brown rice because I needed something quiet and steady — something that hummed in the background while I thought about scrolls that say “welcome home” and kitchens in Busan I haven’t stood in yet. This rice is not Korean. It is not ceremonial. But it is the kind of food that holds a person together while they practice being brave, and that felt like exactly enough.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 cup long-grain brown rice
2 1/4 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium carrot, peeled and diced small
1 stalk celery, diced small
1/2 cup frozen peas, thawed
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (optional, for finishing)

Instructions

Toast the rice. Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the brown rice and stir constantly for 2–3 minutes until the grains are lightly toasted and smell nutty.
Soften the aromatics. Add the diced onion, carrot, and celery to the pan. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 4–5 minutes until the onion is translucent and the vegetables have begun to soften. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds more.
Add the broth and season. Pour in the vegetable broth and add the salt, pepper, and dried thyme. Stir to combine and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
Simmer covered. Once boiling, reduce heat to low, cover tightly, and cook for 40–45 minutes until the liquid is fully absorbed and the rice is tender. Resist lifting the lid during cooking.
Rest and fluff. Remove from heat and let sit, covered, for 5 minutes. Uncover, add the thawed peas, and fluff gently with a fork, folding the peas in as you go. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl and scatter fresh parsley over the top if using. Serve warm as a side or a simple main.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vegetable Brown Rice — Practicing the Kitchen Before Busan