Witches’ Brew — A Halloween Punch for the Neighbors Who Don’t Know What Yaksik Is

Halloween preparations. Hana's first Halloween. She will be nine and a half months old and she will be a pumpkin. Not because I want her to be a pumpkin — I swore, seven years ago, when Karen showed me photos of baby Stephanie in a pumpkin costume, that I would never put my child in a pumpkin costume. But Hana saw the pumpkin costume at the store and reached for it and made the sweet potato sound (the humming approval sound) and I bought the pumpkin costume because my daughter wanted it and my daughter gets what she wants. She gets what she wants because I am weak. She gets what she wants because she has my serious eyes and James's chin and Jisoo's hands and the combined genetic inheritance of two cultures that produce very persuasive babies.

The kitchen renovation is underway at the Wallingford house. Brian's crew has demolished the old kitchen — the laminate counters are gone, the electric stove is gone, the bad layout is gone. What remains is studs and plumbing and potential. Brian sends me photos every day. I study them the way I used to study architecture diagrams at Amazon: with analytical intensity and a growing excitement about the finished system. The kitchen will have: a six-burner gas range (Bluestar, commercial-style), marble countertops (Carrara, because Jisoo's kitchen in Busan has marble and I want Jisoo to feel at home when she visits), a fermenting station in the corner (Brian's design, with the onggi shelf and temperature control), open shelving for cookbooks, a large island with seating, and a window above the sink that looks out at the maple tree. The kitchen will take three months. I will survive three months. The condo kitchen will hold me until January.

Karen was animated this Saturday — she has been reading about Korean food, on her own initiative, without prompting from me. She brought a book to the visit: a cookbook by a Korean-American chef, marked with post-it flags. She said, "I'm learning." I said, "Learning what?" She said, "What I should have learned thirty years ago. I'm learning about your food." She had flagged recipes for doenjang jjigae, bibimbap, and kimchi. My mother is learning Korean cooking from a book. She is seventy-one. She has Parkinson's. She is learning. Karen Park is always learning, always trying, always filling the gaps she left, not because she is guilty but because she is curious and she loves me and love, it turns out, makes you learn. Love made me learn Korean. Love is making Karen learn kimchi. The learning is the love.

The recipe this week is a Halloween sweet — yaksik, Korean sweet rice with nuts and jujubes. Glutinous rice, steamed. Mixed with brown sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, chestnuts, jujubes, pine nuts, and raisins. Pressed into a pan and steamed again until everything melds together. Cut into squares. The squares are dark and sticky and sweet and rich — a Korean confection that is nothing like Halloween candy but is, in its own way, a treat. I am going to make yaksik for the trick-or-treaters at the Bellevue house. They will not know what it is. They will eat it because it is sweet. They will eat Korean candy on Halloween and Karen will hand it to them with shaking hands and the night will be good.

Karen will be handing out yaksik with shaking hands and I will be standing beside her with something for the grown-ups — because Halloween, it turns out, is also a night for parents on doorsteps and neighbors you only half-know making small talk in the dark. This Witches’ Brew is what I’m making for that: something bubbling and green and absurd and seasonal, a punch that requires almost nothing from a condo kitchen and asks only that you lean into the silliness of the night. Hana will be asleep before the first trick-or-treater arrives. The brew will be for the rest of us.

Witches’ Brew

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 12

Ingredients

• 1 package (3 oz) lime-flavored gelatin
• 1 cup boiling water
• 4 cups cold water
• 1 can (12 oz) frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
• 1 can (12 oz) frozen limeade concentrate, thawed
• 2 liters ginger ale, chilled
• 1 quart lime sherbet
• Green food coloring (optional, for extra effect)
• Ice ring or ice cubes, for serving

Instructions

1. Dissolve the gelatin. In a large bowl or punch bowl, dissolve the lime gelatin in 1 cup of boiling water, stirring for about 2 minutes until fully dissolved.
2. Add cold water and concentrates. Stir in the cold water, thawed lemonade concentrate, and thawed limeade concentrate until well combined. At this point you can refrigerate the base for up to 24 hours if making ahead.
3. Add color if desired. Stir in a few drops of green food coloring for a deeper, more sinister green hue. Add more or less to taste.
4. Add ginger ale. Just before serving, slowly pour in the chilled ginger ale. Stir gently to preserve the carbonation.
5. Float the sherbet. Scoop the lime sherbet into the punch bowl in large spoonfuls so it floats on top and creates a bubbling, foamy effect as it slowly melts.
6. Serve immediately. Ladle into cups with ice and serve while the sherbet is still creating its witchy foam. Replenish sherbet scoops as the party goes on.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 51g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 65mg