Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

ICE Alum Joy Cho Connects with Korean Culture through Food

aday — Sat, 01 May 2021 20:32:10 +0000

ICE Alum Joy Cho Connects with Korean Culture through Food aday Sat, 05/01/2021 - 16:32 Yuja, matcha and black sesame Gem Cakes by Joy Cho Pastry The Pastry & Baking Arts grad is expressing her Korean-American identity. May 1, 2021

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

Joy Cho describes how she's experienced Korean ingredients and dishes in a new way as a pastry professional.

The recent disturbing uptick in violence and hate against Asians and Asian Americans has prompted not only rightful indignance from our community but also a deeper examination into questions of our identity and experience in America. Asian Americans have, in large part, been conditioned to brush off racially insensitive or overtly racist incidents and move on instead of acknowledging the experiences for what they are. Because they probably didn’t know better. Perhaps they didn’t really mean it that way. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. The result is often a sense of erasure and/or a perpetuation of these racist attitudes and behaviors.

Personally, my Korean-American identity was something that I didn’t dwell on much growing up. I attended K-12 at a predominantly white school in central Ohio and went to a Korean church where I regularly saw people who looked like me. In hindsight, although I wasn’t actively ashamed of my Asian-ness (most of the time), I was subconsciously minimizing that part of my identity at school. When I did sometimes overhear racially driven comments from my peers, I’d try to ignore them — and ignored my own anxiety that something similar would be spoken in my earshot again. If I kept my head down, worked hard and got into a good college, that’s all that mattered (or so I thought).

It wasn’t until I pivoted to the food industry in 2019, and more recently spun off on my own with Joy Cho Pastry, that I’ve come to a place of truly appreciating and centering my heritage. As a pastry chef, I didn’t want to box myself in with a strictly Asian-inspired concept, but over time, I realized that using Korean or Asian ingredients not only excited me, it further connected me to my roots.

Infusing more “traditional” bakes with Asian flavors, in a way that preserves the integrity of both, has become a tangible way of showcasing my identity. Now, items like misugaru (Korean roasted multigrain powder) and yuja (Korean jarred citron tea) are mainstays in my kitchen, and I love being able to incorporate them into recipes and products I share with the public while allowing myself the freedom to work with non-Asian ingredients as I please.

Freelance writing has been another valuable outlet for expressing myself, and in turn, inspiring others to experience parts of my culture, whether in the form of creamy tomato-gochujang pasta, lemon-yuja cake or gyeran bap (Korean egg rice).

I’ve also been increasingly interested in re-exploring dishes I grew up with and approaching them with hands-on curiosity. For example, I never thought I could develop a recipe for one of my favorite banchan, musaengchae, or make sujebi (Korean hand-torn noodle soup) from scratch — but tapping into my mom and grandma’s wealth of wisdom and allowing myself to experiment in the kitchen has shown me that I too can cook Korean dishes, and that’s really empowering. Like learning to speak one’s mother tongue or cracking a code, making Korean food gives me a certain satisfaction and helps me grow deeper into my Koreanness. It’s also a plus that I don’t have to wait until the next time I go home to taste homemade versions of these foods, though it’s no question that my mom and grandma make them better!

Processing and living out one’s identity is always a work in progress, but I’m incredibly grateful to have the platform I do to share pieces of myself through food and writing. It’s freeing to be unequivocally proud of where I come from, and gratifying to see other Asian-American chefs and restaurateurs center, prioritize and showcase their cultures, whether through social media, menu curation or participation in projects like With Warm Welcome’s Bakers Box. The strength of the Asian and Asian-American culinary community here in New York is undeniable, and I’m so lucky to be part of that fabric. Food has always been a powerful, compelling medium — and we need to tap into its relevance and joy now more than ever.

Joy changed careers with night classes in ICE's Pastry & Baking Arts program. Learn more here.

May is Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. You can watch the recap of our Instagram Live with ICE alumni from the AAPI community below.

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Behind the Product Development Process

aday — Thu, 18 Feb 2021 19:15:54 +0000

Behind the Product Development Process aday Thu, 02/18/2021 - 14:15 ICE alum Joy Cho (Pastry, 19) shares her experience from recipe testing to product launch. February 18, 2021

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

As I took some time away after a busy holiday season to recharge and plan for the future, I thought more about creating a signature dish and finding a specialized niche. Even as a pastry chef, developing my own dessert recipe has always felt intimidating, especially taking into account the precision of baking and the difficulty of troubleshooting “in real-time.”

I was grateful to have my former chef-instructor from ICE's Pastry & Baking Arts program, Penny Stankiewicz, share some wisdom about the process.

“With recipe testing, the first thing I do is research recipes from my most trusted sources,” Chef Penny said. “I find at least three versions that have differences in them and compare those differences ... and I think about how that might impact the recipe.” She reiterated the importance of understanding the functional properties of your ingredients and how they work together. Sugar and butter, for example, affect not only the flavor but also the structure of your resulting product. “Being curious about your ingredients will lead you to learn so much and have much more success at creating your own recipes.”

Chef Penny also advised that when recipe testing, it’s most effective to change one aspect at a time in order to accurately isolate the difference it makes and proceed accordingly. “Changing too much at once will make it hard to know what is working best.” She continued, “And I keep excellent notes about my experience with it so I know what to fix.” As with any serious study of a subject, good note-taking is crucial.

Largely driven by curiosity, I wanted to create a mini bundt cake recipe and perused online recipes and ratios for a general framework. I had a vague sense that I could make a fresh and versatile take on mini bundts and that I was aiming for a moist, pleasantly dense cake with some structure, but not much else was fleshed out in my head.

My first stab at a recipe turned out neither sweet enough nor moist enough — but I had a starting point. For Version 2, I tried upping the sugar, decreasing the egg and adding sour cream in hopes of boosting the moisture and sweetness. Although Version 2 was better, it was clear the cakes could be even more moist and flavorful. My mind wandered to cake flour: Would a combination of all-purpose and cake flours contribute to a more tender crumb that still retained structure? The answer was no: Version 3’s cake turned out overly moist. I did want to keep the increased vanilla and sour cream, however.

At this point, I was feeling discouraged — with every change I made, there appeared to be something else that needed fixing and adjusting. I decided to test a Version 4 that incorporated mochiko (sweet rice flour) along with all-purpose flour and increased the amount of egg back to Version 1’s recipe to note the effect on texture while keeping the amount of sour cream and milk the same as in Version 3. Turns out, I’d hit the nail on the head. The cake was soft, almost plushy, but with distinct structure. It was light and substantial at the same time, with good flavor.

Batches of mini bundts later, I had landed on a workable recipe. Through the numerous “errors,” I became more sure of what I wanted the end product to look like. Having three built-in taste-testers in my family was a huge plus, as was framing the process as experimentation rather than a strict, deadline-based project.

I named my product Gem Cakes because dressed up in glaze, they resemble gems visually and also represent little gems of flavor. I experimented with glaze flavors like black sesame, misugaru and maple-almond, ordered packaging and labels that are both functional and aesthetic, and began to roll out marketing in preparation for orders in New York City. (Stay updated on my website and Instagram @joycho_pastry.)

After testing various glazes to go with the Gems, I actually ended up scaling back the amount of sugar in the cake recipe. The composed cake was too sweet in tandem with the glaze. Even now, I know that my base recipe, and any of my glaze recipes, are subject to adjustment. Nothing is entirely set in stone, and there is a certain beauty to that fluidity — not to mention all the glaze possibilities out there!

As I put Gem Cakes out into the world, I’m increasing the number of taste-testers who can make the product even better. I learned that sometimes the starting point is not really knowing what you want to be known for, discovering that along the way, and continuously iterating and tinkering. Recipe testing your own signature dish takes patience, time and trust in the sometimes-wonky and often-frustrating process, but it is entirely worth it and the most hands-on way to learn. I can’t wait to do it again.

Follow Joy's entrepreneurial endeavors and explore your own dessert business with a dual diploma in Pastry & Baking Arts and Restaurant & Culinary Management.

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Rice Cakes in Korean Cuisine

aday — Wed, 10 Feb 2021 17:08:19 +0000

Rice Cakes in Korean Cuisine aday Wed, 02/10/2021 - 12:08 Photos by Grace Lee Sweet, Savory, Celebratory Snacking January 10, 2022

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

Lunar New Year is celebrated with a variety of flavorful, unique foods in Asian culture. For Koreans, dduk-guk (rice cake soup) is a mainstay on the New Year’s table. I grew up eating this iconic dish every New Year’s Day, like many Korean Americans who observe the holiday on January 1 rather than on Lunar New Year, which lands sometime in late January or early February (this year, it starts on February 1).

Regardless of the date the New Year is celebrated, dduk-guk remains a traditional and comforting dish that Koreans around the world enjoy with loved ones. The rice cake soup is made with a base of either beef broth or anchovy broth, seasoned and boiled with flat, oval-shaped rice cakes that become soft and chewy in the soup. Sometimes dumplings are added to the mix, making it dduk-mandu-guk. Dduk-guk is usually topped with some combination of chopped green onions, strips of seaweed, thinly sliced fried egg and shredded beef (if beef broth is used). The soup is equal parts hearty, nourishing and satisfying: the perfect way to kick off a new year.

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Dduk-guk, however, is just one of many ways that Koreans incorporate rice cakes into our cuisine. On the savory end of the spectrum, a well-known dish is tteokbokki (spicy stir-fried rice cakes). One of my favorite Korean comfort foods, tteokbokki consists of long, cylindrical rice cakes, fish cake strips (odeng), boiled eggs and vegetables like sliced onions, carrots and cabbage. The ingredients are cooked together in a spicy and slightly sweet gochujang-based sauce that can lean soupy or a bit thicker, depending on the recipe.

ICE alumni chefs in New York are readily showcasing rice cakes in their restaurants’ savory dishes, both in traditional applications and more avant-garde interpretations. Esther Choi (Culinary, ’11), chef and owner of mokbar in Chelsea and Brooklyn, gives tteokbokki a fresh twist by using brown buttered rice cakes, poaching the egg, and adding crispy pork and bacon and white kimchi to the spicy red sauce. Esther also offers a DIY budae jjigae, "army stew," meal kit that includes rice cakes alongside a host of other ingredients like spam, baked beans and Kurobuta sausage to be cooked in the kimchi pork ramen broth.

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Sohui Kim (Culinary/Management, ’02) offers tteokbokki as well at her restaurant, Insa, in Brooklyn – dubbing it “OG street-style spicy rice cakes” and adding soft-boiled egg and puffed rice to the dish. Her take on tteok-mandu guk (rice cake and dumpling soup) is particularly fascinating, with chicken dumplings served in a smoked chicken dashi with rice cakes, egg and nori.

Departing from the savory side of things, sweet rice cakes are a world of their own, coming in a range of shapes, colors and fillings. They’re often part of celebrations, holidays and special occasions, like a baby’s 100th day or first birthday (both important milestones in Korean culture). Here's a small sampling of sweet rice cakes:

Injeolmi are soft, sticky balls of rice cake dusted in a nutty, roasted soybean powder and made from steaming and pounding soaked sweet rice. Sometimes mugwort powder is added during the process to yield dark green-hued and earthy-tasting injeolmi.
Mujigae-dduk, which translates to “rainbow rice cake,” is a rice cake with a slightly cakey texture made from short-grain rice flour. It is named such because three to five layers are dyed different colors; this rice cake often makes an appearance at events like weddings.
Songpyun are small, chewy rice cake balls made from wet rice flour (short-grain rice flour), filled with a crushed sesame seed-honey/brown sugar mixture or a sweetened mungbean mixture (among other filling options) prior to steaming. Songpyun were originally steamed atop a pine needle layer, and are often seen in white, pink or green hues and commonly eaten during Chuseok (“Korean Thanksgiving” around the fall).

As you can see, there is a vast assortment of rice cakes in Korean cuisine, and depending on the application, they can be a casual snack, part of a meal, a dessert, gift or special occasion food (not to mention other cuisines that incorporate rice cakes into their cooking and snacking!). Because of the technique and effort required, people tend to buy frozen rice cakes or order from specialty rice cake bakeries rather than regularly make them at home. But whether as part of a weeknight dinner or a national holiday, and regardless of where you source them, it’s easy to see why rice cakes are so widely eaten and enjoyed in Korean culture: They’re extremely versatile, texturally interesting, and most of all, delicious in their many sweet and savory forms.

Read more about rice in Indian cuisine, and study global food traditions in Culinary Arts.

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Miso Sauce for Winter Pasta

aday — Sun, 13 Dec 2020 17:21:17 +0000

Miso Sauce for Winter Pasta aday Sun, 12/13/2020 - 12:21 Photo by Zach Zhang Combine caramelization and umami for warming comfort food. January 9, 2024

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

Miso’s unique umami and the concentrated intensity of caramelized onions take this seven-ingredient dish to new flavor heights.

When you’re craving warmth and comfort when the weather is brisk, this rich and creamy pasta is bound to satisfy.

Umami means “pleasant savory taste” and is often referred to as the fifth taste, joining the pillars of sweet, salty, bitter and sour. Foods with umami are high in the amino acid glutamate and have a complex, meaty and savory flavor profile. Miso, seaweed, soy sauce, gravy and parmesan cheese are a few examples. Combining miso, chicken stock and heavy cream produces an umami-centric sauce without cheese.

Caramelizing onions also boost the dish’s flavor. Caramelization results when sugar interacts with heat and changes in color and flavor. Natural sugar is found in vegetables like onions, which allows them to caramelize, get darker and intensify in flavor.

"Onions contain large sugar molecules that we can't perceive in their raw form, but as those molecules are broken down into smaller molecules by heat, we're able to perceive the sweetness," ICE Chef Seamus Mullen explained on Martha Stewart.

In this recipe, you’ll see the sliced onions evolve as they caramelize, first sweating out and getting tender, then fully softening and gradually changing in color to a rich golden brown. Caramelized onions are also great on a cheese board, your favorite sandwich or mixed in with roasted vegetable sides.

You probably have most of the ingredients for this pasta sauce in your pantry already; if you need white miso, it can easily be found in Asian markets and likely even your local grocery store.

Whether you serve it as a hearty main or a warming side, this caramelized onion and miso cream pasta comes together easily, boasts a uniquely savory flavor and will impress guests and family alike.

Miso Cream Rigatoni with Caramlized Onions

Yields 4 servings

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup chicken stock (not low-sodium)
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons white miso
8 ounces rigatoni (or your favorite pasta shape)
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan. Add the sliced onions, season with salt and pepper and cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally.
Once the onions start to soften and color, turn the heat down to medium and continue cooking and stirring until they caramelize, about 20 minutes.
Add the chicken stock, heavy cream and miso to the onions and bring the mixture to a boil. Cook over medium-high heat for 5-8 minutes, until the sauce slightly thickens. At this point, taste the sauce and season with salt and pepper as desired (you may find you don't need any additional salt, due to the miso’s inherent saltiness).
In boiling salted water, cook the pasta of your choice until al dente. If you prefer a less thick sauce, add a splash of pasta water to the miso mixture before draining the pasta.
Drain the pasta and add to the pot of sauce, tossing with tongs to coat everything together well.
Serve immediately with a few generous cranks of freshly ground pepper.

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Operating a Pop-Up in NYC from Planning to Execution

aday — Wed, 21 Oct 2020 17:07:02 +0000

Operating a Pop-Up in NYC from Planning to Execution aday Wed, 10/21/2020 - 13:07 ICE alum Joy Cho (Pastry, '19) explains the entrepreneurial process for testing products, growing brand awareness and networking through a collaboration. October 21, 2020

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

Pastry & Baking Arts graduate Joy Cho has captured the process of enrolling in evening classes at the Ģ��Ƶ, changing careers, launching at Michelin-starred restaurants and developing her independent business since the shutdown. This month, she shares her experience hosting a pop-up menu at a New York City restaurant.

When I cold-emailed the owner of a New York City bar back in March asking about a potential pop-up opportunity, I never thought that six months later, I would be operating out of the space a few times a week.

Back in February, I launched a small-format ticketed pop-up dinner, borrowing an acquaintance’s apartment to assemble dishes for guests. And I hosted a one-time pop-up at a local brewery while back in Ohio, where I sold (and sold out of) baked goods on a Saturday afternoon. Operating a recurring pop-up in an existing NYC brick-and-mortar establishment, however, was new to me — though my previous experiences gave me some level of preparation.

After returning to NYC, I met with Katie Rue, the owner of Reception Bar on the Lower East Side (LES), to discuss logistics for a pop-up there. Throughout the process, she allowed me the freedom to craft a separate menu and determine what days and hours I would operate. We agreed on a commission structure, and Katie offered guidance on marketing materials, but besides that, there was a ton of space to fill in the blanks.

I decided to start the pop-up with three days a week at Reception, Wednesday through Friday evenings. I would have a standalone menu with two desserts and one savory option and aspire to change up the items on a two-week cadence.

It was important to select menu items that I could pre-make in my Brooklyn apartment and transport to Reception to assemble on site. With limited equipment on-premise (read: no full kitchen), I had to be smart about how to put dishes together efficiently. Thankfully, I had enough fridge and freezer space at Reception to store items in between pop-up days and enough counter space to work on.

After marketing through Instagram (and cross-advertising through Reception’s social media) and lugging all my ingredients and equipment to the LES, I was excited and nervous for pop-up opening day. I would be taking guests’ orders and running plates out to them, so this would be a valuable opportunity to gain face time with customers.

Opening day came and went, and I was surprised by the reception (no pun intended) – the pop-up was picked up by Eater and The Infatuation, and I saw friends, friends of friends and Instagram followers come by for ice cream and pasta. As the days and weeks went by, I also noticed that sales waxed and waned, sometimes due to weather and other times for seemingly random reasons. After two weeks, I changed up the menu, hoping to bring back clientele from the first wave.

I was learning a lot about customer service, workflow, time management and marketing, but a recurring pop-up was a lot to manage, especially for one person. I wasn’t sure how to split my time and effort between my original project — Baker’s Boxes — and this LES pop-up. There were definite pros to maintaining a pop-up, such as press, presence in Manhattan and the ability to try out savory items, but after a month of maintaining and adjusting the set-up, I found that pivoting away from the pop-up and focusing on preordered pastry boxes again was the decision that made the most sense. Given the changing weather, the constraints of time and workload, and the previous success of Baker’s Boxes, it felt right to pour my energy into a project that allowed me more visibility and stability.

Thankfully I’m able to continue partnering with Reception as a pick-up location for Baker’s Boxes and keep an open dialogue about potential one-off pop-ups there moving forward. Through the various challenges and changes I faced while working this pop-up, I feel motivated to approach similar opportunities in the future and to do so with a more defined vision and plan.

As this year has taught so many of us, the unexpected and unplanned happen — frequently. It’s less about meticulously planning for the future than taking opportunities that arise in stride. I’m very grateful for this pop-up experience and look forward to seeing what life hands me next!

Explore your pastry concept with a dual diploma in Pastry & Baking Arts and Restaurant & Culinary Management.

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Cooking with Perilla Leaves

aday — Thu, 17 Sep 2020 18:45:02 +0000

Cooking with Perilla Leaves aday Thu, 09/17/2020 - 14:45 From acquiring taste to avid devotee September 17, 2020

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

While spring was the season of banana bread, it was the summer of perilla leaves for me. I never liked these uniquely aromatic leaves (called kkaennip in Korean) growing up, but something recently shifted to a full-on obsession after my months-long quarantine back in my hometown.

The fragrant, slightly acerbic nature of perilla leaves is an acquired taste even for some Koreans – it took me years to come around to its one-of-a-kind aroma and essence.

So what do perilla leaves taste like? It’s hard to pinpoint the exact flavor profile of these greens, but Maangchi notes that the taste of kkaennip is “somewhere between that of basil and mint.”

Perilla uses vary greatly, from its inclusion in stews, as wraps for meat and rice, and pickled into banchan (side dish). Kkaennip cuts through the richness of food well, providing a welcome counterbalance to heartier dishes. And because they are relatively easy to grow, many people – including my grandma — add perilla leaves to their home garden assortment.

Speaking of my grandma — she makes incredible pickled perilla leaves, a banchan called kkaennip jangajji. The leaves are layered with a savory, spicy marinade studded with toasted sesame seeds and diced green onions, and once softened, are sublime eaten atop fresh white rice. The great thing about banchan is that they can be laid out and eaten with whatever is for lunch or dinner — I’ve definitely enjoyed perilla leaves with frozen pizza and creamy pasta. The hit of acidity adds a refreshing antidote to an otherwise one-note-rich meal.

When I moved back to New York City after moving home during the pandemic, and saw perilla leaves at H Mart, I knew I had to recreate my grandma’s jangajji banchan, if only to indulge in recent nostalgia. Perilla tastes like home and always reminds me of my culinary roots. It was strangely empowering to land on my own version of this side dish, like putting together pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know I could solve. My grandma’s perilla leaves will always reign supreme — she has no recipe and does it all by familiar taste — but this is a small way of bringing a piece of home to my Brooklyn apartment and paying homage to her culinary prowess. After all, imitation is the highest form of flattery.

Kkaennip Jangajji (Marinated Perilla Leaves)

Yields 20-25 leaves

20-25 perilla leaves, washed and patted dry
1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon green onion, diced
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon soy sauce
2 3/4 teaspoons honey
2 3/4 teaspoons mirin
1 teaspoon rice vinegar or Korean apple vinegar
1 teaspoon gochujang (Korean red chile paste)
1 teaspoon gochugaru (Korean red chile pepper flakes)
3/4 teaspoon garlic, minced
Fish sauce, to taste

Combine all ingredients, minus the perilla leaves, in a small bowl. Taste and adjust as needed.
Spoon a small amount of the sauce on the bottom of a shallow airtight container.
Place 2-3 perilla leaves on top, followed by another spoonful of the sauce. Spread the sauce over the entire leaf if possible.
Continue layering with 2-3 leaves at a time, finishing with some sauce on top.
Allow perilla leaves to marinate for a few hours before consuming with rice or as a side dish. Perilla leaves will keep in the refrigerator for about 1 week.

Read more about cooking with leaves, and explore career training in plant-based cooking at ICE.

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Chilled Soba with Gochujang Dressing

aday — Mon, 24 Aug 2020 21:31:39 +0000

Chilled Soba with Gochujang Dressing aday Mon, 08/24/2020 - 17:31 A refreshing summer meal for one. August 25, 2020

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

Thankfully it’s cooled down a bit in recent weeks, but while summer is still here (and you’d rather not use the oven), turn to this spicy-sweet-tangy cold noodle dish that comes together in 20 minutes.

In Korean, we call this combination of flavors mehcom-dalcom-sehcom. Many Korean dishes naturally combine two or more of these taste elements: Think of the spicy-sweet sauce in ddukbokki (spicy stir-fried rice cakes, also spelled tteok-bokki) or the sour-sweet broth in mul naengmyeon (Korean cold noodle soup).

This chilled soba with gochujang dressing was inspired by my mom, who uses a very simple ratio-driven recipe for the sauce. Gochujang is a staple in Korean cooking – the iconic red chili paste can be found in small plastic tubs in Asian supermarkets. Its umami spice laced with a touch of sweetness contributes immense flavor to marinades and stir-fry dishes. Soba noodles are made with buckwheat flour, giving them a characteristically darker hue, though many commercial brands include wheat flour in the ingredients as well.

I tweaked my mom’s recipe and added a few supporting ingredients like mirin and sesame oil that contribute roundness and depth to the flavor profile. The gochujang-based dressing definitely has both tang and heat: Adjust the proportions as desired. Serve the chilled noodles with toppings such as a jammy egg, sesame seeds, kimchi or nori strips (or whatever you can find in your fridge!). You can even make the sauce in bulk and store it in the fridge for a few weeks, for whenever the craving – and laziness – strike. This dish is the definition of low effort-high reward, and makes for a refreshing and satisfying summer meal for one.

Chilled Soba with Gochujang Dressing

Yields 1 serving

1 tablespoon Gochujang (Korean red chili paste)
1 tablespoon honey
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon rice vinegar or Korean apple vinegar
1/2 teaspoon mirin
Sesame oil
Toppings of choice (such as kimchi, yellow pickled daikon radish, diced green onions, soft-boiled egg or roasted sesame seeds)
1 bundle (2 ounces) dry soba noodles

In a small bowl, whisk together gochujang, honey, soy sauce, vinegar, mirin and a drizzle of sesame oil until combined. Taste dressing and adjust based on your preference (as written, it’s a mix of spicy, tangy and sweet).
In a small pot of boiling water, cook soba according to package instructions. Drain and immediately rinse noodles in cold water until chilled.
In a bowl, toss cold noodles with gochujang dressing until evenly coated. Depending on how strong you prefer the flavors, you may not use all of the sauce.
Top noodles with ingredients of choice and serve.
Store any leftover dressing in an airtight container for up to a few weeks. It will become even more flavorful over time.

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Culinary Arts Step 1 - In a small bowl, whisk together gochujang, honey, soy sauce, vinegar, mirin and a drizzle of sesame oil until combined. Taste dressing and adjust based on your preference (as written, it’s a mix of spicy, tangy and sweet); Step 2 - In a small pot of boiling water, cook soba according to package instructions. Drain and immediately rinse noodles in cold water until chilled; Step 3 - In a bowl, toss cold noodles with gochujang dressing until evenly coated. Depending on how strong you prefer the flavors, you may not use all of the sauce; Step 4 - Top noodles with ingredients of choice and serve; Step 5 - Store any leftover dressing in an airtight container for up to a few weeks. It will become even more flavorful over time;

Kimbap: Colorful Korean Rolls Fit for a Picnic

aday — Wed, 15 Jul 2020 14:09:53 +0000

Kimbap: Colorful Korean Rolls Fit for a Picnic aday Wed, 07/15/2020 - 10:09 Rolled kimbap photo by Grace Lee ICE alum Joy Cho (Pastry, '19) shares a traditional Korean dish from her family and culture. July 15, 2020

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

Kimbap translates to seaweed (“kim”) rice (“bap”), and it is decidedly not “Korean sushi,” as some may describe it. Yes, it’s technically rice wrapped in seaweed with fillings, but the comparison stops there. Kimbap’s ingredients are distinct and particular to the dish: marinated vegetables, fried egg, ground meat and fish cake, to name a few. My friend’s mom says the ingredients should represent the color spectrum – a feast for both the eyes and the taste buds.

Growing up in a Korean household, there were good meals and really good meals. And then there were the meals that sparked a specific kind of joy because it felt special even though it was just another Tuesday evening.

Whenever I saw my grandma prepping ingredients for kimbap, dinner immediately became something to look forward to. Various marinated vegetables and fillings were arranged on large plates, ready to be rolled up tightly with seasoned rice and seaweed into colorful – and delicious – vehicles of flavor. Now that I understand the work involved in making kimbap, I appreciate my grandma’s labor of love even more. It also helps that she has that magic touch.

Kimbap ingredients photo by Grace Lee

Unlike many Korean dishes for which all the ingredients go into a stew pot or fry pan, and the taste is adjusted along the way, homemade kimbap requires some more planning – it’s not something you can casually decide to make for dinner after digging through the fridge. If you have the time and means to put in the work, though, you’ll reap the fruits of your labor (and have some fun along the way).

There are many potential fillings for kimbap, but the traditional ones are carrots, spinach, danmuji (yellow pickled radish), fried egg, odeng (fish cake) and marinated beef. All the fillings must be prepped separately, whether cooking and seasoning the vegetables or cutting the fried eggs into long strips. The rice is also seasoned with a bit of salt, sugar, vinegar and/or sesame oil. Because each component is seasoned in some capacity and each ingredient is so different flavor and texture-wise, the end result is a rich multi-dimensional experience.

After the fillings are prepped, they’re rolled up in rice and seaweed on a bamboo mat. The whole process is an art – rolling the kimbap evenly and tightly, avoiding bulging or tearing, and using the right ratio of rice to fillings. Finished kimbap are cut into ½-inch-thick slices, revealing a festive and colorful cross-section. In my house, my grandma was the only one who made kimbap – not only did she season everything just so, but she also rolled them beautifully and consistently.

Though delicious in any setting, kimbap is a typical picnic food. It’s easy to transport and just as fun to eat. During biannual Korean church picnics growing up, I remember kimbap being a common shared food as families ate and socialized together. It’s also considered boon-shik, a category of Korean food consumed as casual, cheap and crave-worthy street snacks.

Like many foods, the exact origins of kimbap are not super clear. One theory posits that kimbap was born out of the Japanese occupation of Korea during the first half of the 20th century when Koreans adapted the Japanese roll and made it their own. For example, Koreans opted for sesame oil to season the rice for kimbap while the Japanese used rice vinegar. Or perhaps kimbap was a natural evolution of eating rice wrapped in seaweed with side dishes, a practice stemming from the Joseon era (1392-1910). Whatever the real origins are, kimbap has become a beloved snack, picnic and on-the-go food in Korean culture.

Nowadays, people have gotten creative with kimbap fillings: cheese, tuna, fried pork cutlet (donkatsu), fish eggs and kimchi are just a few potential options. Triangle (sam-gak) kimbap is a popular on-the-go option, similar to Japanese onigiri with a singular filling inside. Because kimbap is so time-consuming to make, most people opt to buy it from stores or restaurants whenever the occasion arises. No matter where you get it though, the satisfaction factor is still there.

My dad and I are firm believers that the best part of kimbap is the end pieces because of the large filling-to-rice ratio (very important!). And the best way to eat kimbap has become somewhat of a tradition in our family – coating day-old pieces of kimbap in egg and frying in a pan. The sizzle is enough to make your mouth water, and the hot layer of fried egg revives the dried rice and somehow melds and amplifies the flavors of the fillings. It’s like a kimbap encore; I love fresh kimbap, but I think pan-fried kimbap takes it to the next level.

You might be asking yourself what to eat kimbap with, say, at your next picnic. You can't go wrong pairing it with classic Korean sides such as kimchi or pickled vegetables.

Whether lovingly made by my grandma or by an ajumma (aunt-like figure) I don’t know in Manhattan’s Koreatown, kimbap will always be a welcome treat – one that evokes nostalgia and never fails to be immensely satisfying. The vibrant colors, unique flavors and varying textures provide a one-of-a-kind culinary experience in each bite.

Read more from Joy about Korean food and explore global cuisines in Culinary Arts at ICE.

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How to Start a Home Bakery

aday — Fri, 19 Jun 2020 18:27:32 +0000

How to Start a Home Bakery aday Fri, 06/19/2020 - 14:27 ICE alum Joy Cho (Pastry, '19) shares her quarantine baking adventure, from restaurant job to home business. June 19, 2020

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

You know what they say: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade … or lemon curd for strawberry cake, lemon-ricotta cake with mint, or ditch the lemons altogether and roll with oranges instead.

Up until three months ago, I was working the evening pastry service at my dream restaurant, Gramercy Tavern. The schedule and nature of the work were grueling at times (especially transitioning from an office job), but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I also had a café pop-up planned that I was excited about and was starting to explore other opportunities on the side.

I never could have anticipated that in mid-March, I would lose my job due to COVID-19, return to my hometown of Columbus, Ohio, and launch a weekly baked goods delivery service from my parents’ kitchen. The last few months have been a wild ride, but I’ve never been closer to pursuing my dreams of running my own small business. I’ve learned to make the most of the circumstances — unexpectedly, creatively and dynamically.

Like so many hospitality professionals impacted by the pandemic, I felt lost and overwhelmed when I found out that I had been let go. What was I supposed to do with all this time? When would I be able to return to work? How do I even apply for unemployment benefits, and why was the system so difficult to navigate?

Also like many hospitality professionals, I turned to what I knew how to do even in the midst of uncertainty and anxiety: making food and sharing it with others. It provided a unique comfort and structure to the sudden onslaught of free time I had never asked for but perhaps needed. It was one of the only ways to preserve some semblance of normalcy.

At first, I baked with no real aim – I just wanted to be in the kitchen, baking up a storm and delivered the extras free of charge to anyone who responded to my Instagram stories. As I continued to share treats across central Ohio, I wondered if people would be willing to pay for my baked goods. Would anyone be interested? Was I qualified enough? There was no way to know though except to try, right? Thus the Baker’s Box project was born. I would release a new curated box of three to four items for preorder each week through my website and Instagram and bake and deliver them to customers’ doorsteps the following week. Boxes were themed, whether a cupcake omakase box, a breakfast-inspired box or treats dedicated to cities I’ve lived in.

Over the past two and a half months of launching this project, I’ve learned so much – talk about literal on-the-job, hands-on training. In a matter of weeks, I went from a pastry cook in NYC to head baker, small business owner, pseudo-graphic designer, cake decorator and marketer all in one. Baker’s Boxes, and the process of creation, execution and delivery, have optimized and evolved. Though there are more lessons I’ve gleaned than I have space to write about, I’ve outlined some of the biggest takeaways below:

Transitioning from a restaurant kitchen to a home bakery:

At Gramercy Tavern, I walked in every day to a list (and any additional notes from the chefs) that structured my shift. My job was to prep and execute my tasks accordingly. Transitioning to being the sole baker in the kitchen was quite the adjustment. Not only do I prep and bake my items each week, but I also have to take inventory, shop for ingredients, test menu items for the following week, respond to email inquiries, and keep up with social media and marketing. I’ve never been in a more dynamic role where I have to manage myself and structure my own days and weeks. I do miss the camaraderie of being part of a restaurant team, but it’s been exciting to explore the freedom of running my own concept.

Stepping out of my comfort zone:

I realized firsthand the value of “going for it” despite uncertainty and doubt. Spurred on by exploration rather than perfection, I pursued a series of collaborations with local breweries, using their beer in my box items; partnered with a national nonprofit one week to donate tips from sales to the organization; started a weekly email newsletter; ran a few Instagram giveaways; and streamlined the cake order process on my website. I’m still learning to put myself out there; it’s the best way to grow.

Working smarter, not harder:

Initially, this was a one-woman show: I was baking the Baker’s Box items, packaging them, turning around, making deliveries – and quickly burning out. I ended up hiring my first employee (my brother) to make deliveries. Though seemingly a small decision, handing off deliveries to someone else freed up a lot of time for me to work on more orders, cakes or other projects. With box items, too, I’ve increased efficiency by choosing one to two baked goods that can be prepped ahead of time (such as freezing unbaked cookie dough) so I’m not scrambling on delivery day. Adequate planning and strategizing have worked wonders, both in saving time and effort and also in preserving my own sanity.

Enjoying the journey – in and out of the kitchen:

Coaching myself to slow down, celebrate my wins and take time to do non-baking things has been challenging and incredibly beneficial. Overworking is easy to do when you build your own schedule and can quickly lead to exhaustion and burnout (I learned that the hard way). Biking in nature, hanging with friends and setting aside time to work on personal projects are some ways I’ve found to ground myself.

Baker’s Boxes started out as a way to keep myself occupied in this quarantine period and earn a bit of extra income, but they’ve become so much more in the process. I’ve been blown away by the support of central Ohioans, many of whom I’ve never met – the power of word-of-mouth or grassroots marketing cannot be underestimated. Posting a new menu every Thursday and sharing the treats with my customers has been a unique way to foster connection and hospitality even while socially distancing. This is my line of work, and it’s a huge privilege to share my passion with the community wherever I am.

Though I’m not sure what the future will hold in terms of my career trajectory, I will always remember the past few months as a meaningful time when I took a chance, grew in unexpected ways as a pastry professional, and realized once again the power of homemade treats to brighten people’s lives. I’ve never felt more challenged, excited and overwhelmed (in a good way) by the possibilities that lie ahead. Stay tuned on my website and Instagram as I explore shipping options and potentially migrate Baker’s Boxes to the NYC area!

Bake pro treats like Joy's with ICE's Pastry & Baking Arts program, and prepare for your food business launch with a dual diploma in Restaurant & Culinary Arts.

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Meet Multigrain Powder Misugaru

aday — Thu, 28 May 2020 15:14:34 +0000

Meet Multigrain Powder Misugaru aday Thu, 05/28/2020 - 11:14 Korean misugaru cream sandwich cookies Pastry cook Joy Cho (Pastry, '19) explores the Korean ingredient with multifaceted (and tasty) potential. May 29, 2020

By Joy Cho — Pastry Writer

In recent years, Asian-inspired flavors like matcha, red bean, ube and black sesame have grown in popularity and ubiquity. Additionally, Korean misugaru benefits the flavor and nutritional value of anything from shakes to pastries as it is naturally rich in vitamins and adds a deliciously nutty spice.

There is another Asian ingredient, though, with comparably distinctive and delicious taste, health benefits, and potential for wide application in the food world. Often overlooked, it sits in your local H-Mart (and on Amazon) with an earthy, nutty flavor that feels familiar somehow but not exactly like anything you’ve had before.

Ever heard of Korean misugaru? This mixed, multigrain powder is made with various grains that have been roasted or steamed and finely ground. The exact ratios of the different grains may vary, but can include rice (white, black, brown or sweet), millet, barley, adlay, soy beans, barley, quinoa, oats, black beans, sesame seeds, corn and more. Some brands boast 17-20 grains in their misugaru.

Though this list of grains can initially bring to mind flavors like chalky oatmeal or bland protein powder, one taste may just change your mind: Ahnesty describes misugaru as having a “cereal, malty, nutty flavor,” and I couldn’t say it better. There are both subtly sweet and savory notes and a well-rounded nuttiness and depth to it.

You may have encountered the misugaru latte at Caffe Benne and other Korean coffee shops — that’s because the main application for misugaru powder has traditionally been in beverage form, mixed with water or milk and a bit of honey or sugar. It can be made into either a hot or cold drink, but many Koreans have fond memories of growing up drinking cold misugaru shakes after school or during the sweltering summer months; ice required. Despite its popularity, is misugaru healthy? Yes! Because of its protein content, fiber, calcium, and vitamins and minerals, misugaru is also regarded as a healthy – and still tasty – option.

Misugaru can be found in Korean grocery stores in instant packets (which you can mix directly into water or milk for a ready-made drink) and bags of pure powder. As the pre-portioned instant packets have some added sweetener, Ahnesty advises that this might be an approachable way to give misugaru a try without committing to it fully ... yet. Some Korean rice cake stores and bakeries can even grind grains that customers bring into “custom” misugaru for them.

Though Korean misugaru has primarily been consumed in drinks (or at the most sprinkled over shaved ice desserts or ice cream), I’ve been determined to creatively utilize this ingredient in my baking. As a pastry cook, I’m passionate about thoughtfully incorporating Korean flavors into my dishes and baked goods, so exploring misugaru’s potential has been exciting and educational.

Joy's instant misugaru-added citrus and thyme financiers, milk and honey spelt cakes with misugaru ice cream, and sourdough misugaru buns.

With its nutty flavor profile, misugaru can take center stage with all its malty goodness, be a supporting player to bolder flavors, or act as a pop of color on a blank canvas. For a pop-up supper club that I launched a few months ago, I made individual milk and honey spelt cakes filled with coffee whipped cream and topped with misugaru ice cream, toasted pecans and a sprinkle of Maldon salt. The subtle savory notes of misugaru played well with the milky and sweet flavors, and my friend commented that the dessert brought her right back to her childhood when her mom would make her misugaru shakes after swim practice. I love that food can vividly conjure up meaningful memories, and facilitating this kind of special “time travel” is a huge privilege.

I’ve also used misugaru as I would a spice, adding it to a glaze for brownies and a cream cheese icing for sourdough “cinnamon” buns. I actually replaced the usual cinnamon in the buns with a hearty dose of misugaru; the predominant flavor was still brown sugar, but misugaru accentuated it in a unique earthy way. Cream puffs with misugaru pastry cream were another off-roading adventure as of late. I’ve even utilized the sweetened instant misugaru packets in citrus and thyme financiers that I made for a Baker’s Box menu item.

As I’ve worked with misugaru, I’ve found that there is a lot of wiggle room for experimentation. The flavor is pronounced yet not overpowering, so you can add as little or as much as you want to a recipe. Sometimes I add a tablespoon to my pancake batter just because — it’s not obvious that it’s in there taste-wise, but it’s a fun and healthy addition to a routine breakfast item. Can you imagine misugaru’s potential as an ingredient in sugar cookies, a ganache filling or tres leches cake?

Korean misugaru benefits a beverage, but it definitely doesn’t need to stop there. As I continue to learn and grow my pastry skills and small business, I hope to find new and delicious ways to put this Korean pantry ingredient to use. In an attempt to broaden misugaru’s reach and appeal, my brother and I have started developing a misugaru spread (named “mishu butter”) that can be spread on toast, eaten with crackers or enjoyed as a dessert topping. Who knows, it could be the next peanut butter alternative! You can stay in the loop on product updates and a release date on our website.

Misugaru goes to show that there are culinary gems hidden in plain sight, ready to be explored and applied to the world of desserts. The results? Likely tasty and definitely surprising — in the best kind of way.

Gain the foundation and confidence to experiment with ingredients in ICE's Pastry & Baking Arts program.

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