You know how we used that phrase “spring forward, fall back” to remind us to set our clocks an hour forward in the spring and an hour back in the fall? Well, I took the “falling back” part literally…as in twisting my knee and falling back on my bum coming down some janky (as in not up to code) stairs. Fortunately, x-rays confirmed I hadn’t seriously injured my knee–nothing was broken, no fluids to be drained–merely badly strained ligaments that would require me to wear a heavy-duty brace and rest for at least two weeks.
How, you may ask, did I manage to do this to myself by merely walking down some (albeit janky) stairs? The short answer is I ignored my body. In other words, I twisted an already weakened knee. You see, my left leg had been feeling a bit stiff and wonky for about a week. I’d chalked it up to stupidly changing into open-toed platforms at Caroline and Roger’s wedding instead of sticking to the comfortable flats I started out wearing earlier when I was delivering the nine trays of mini cakes and setting up their five-tier wedding cake.
Had I been merely the caterer/baker, it never would’ve happened. But since I was also a guest at the wedding, which I might add was a lavish affair two years in the making held under the majestic rotunda at San Francisco’s City Hall, I felt compelled to dress for the occasion—-a typical case of fashion over sense. I don’t do well in heels.
Instead of taking it easy on my body after spending a solid week on wedding cake preparations, I kept pushing myself to get back to producing cakes and planning for a Halloween-themed bake sale. I’d skipped the September bake sale altogether due to the amount of work on Caroline’s wedding cake and I didn’t want to disappoint bake sale fans. Needless to say, ignoring my body was a recipe for disaster.
For the first three days, I hobbled around on crutches awkwardly maneuvering around my tiny apartment, until I could put a little weight on my injured left leg, at which point I ditched the crutches and took to limping around like Igor from the Frankenstein movies. That brace was an unyielding contraption designed to keep my knee from bending, even in bed, so there wasn’t much I could do outside the confines of 300 square feet (give or take) of living space.
I’m not good at resting and certainly not when it’s the “forced” kind. Sure, I know how to relax–as in “Netflix and chill.” But when I know I have things to do, like prep and deliver a bunch of pre-ordered guava-passion creme cakes to eager South Bay customers, my sense of responsibility prevents me from simply “giving in” to my circumstances. On Day Two I was already plotting out ways to get around the kitchen–and that’s when the universe (or Mother Nature) decided to throw me another curveball to keep me sidelined and in my place. I got a nasty stomach bug. When I say nasty, I mean the kind that multiple doses of Pepto (and later Imodium) could not quell after 36 hours, which eventually led to a call to Kaiser’s medical hotline to get a prescription for antibiotics to kill the bug. My best-laid plans, not to mention my appetite, went…well…in the crapper.
It took almost five days before I could consume anything besides saltine crackers (which are highly underrated in my opinion), oatmeal, toast, chicken broth, plain congee, bananas, and lots of watered-down Gatorade (also highly underrated). While my brain was craving a cheesy bacon and egg sandwich, my stomach, much to my frustration, was steering me towards the safety of “sick foods.” This meant I had to figure out how to zhoosh up the bland without upsetting my still delicate stomach.
The solution was forehead-smackingly simple: fresh ginger! I usually keep at least one hand of fresh ginger root in my vegetable bin at all times, regardless of whether I cook a lot of Asian dishes or not. It’s one of those habits I picked up from my mother. I started throwing half a dozen slices of peeled fresh ginger in with the chicken broth for rice noodle soup and congee, along with tiny pieces of tri-tip (need that protein). The ginger not only perked up the flavor of the broth and congee, but it also soothed my stomach and aided in my digestion.
As a kid, I disliked the spicy, almost medicinal flavor (to my young tastebuds at least) of fresh ginger, pushing chunks of it off to the side whenever I came across it in a plate of stir fry or immediately spitting it out if I accidentally bit into a piece in my soup. My bias against ginger extended to sweets as well. Ginger candy made me gag. I ate my black sesame-filled sweet rice dumpling balls sans ginger soup. Ginger ale was the only exception, but then what kid would turn down a soda pop? It wasn’t until I began cooking Chinese dishes in earnest myself and exploring other Asian cuisines that I developed an appreciation and taste for fresh ginger through savory applications, which opened up a gateway to sweet applications, such as in baking. Now I can’t imagine not cooking or baking with ginger of any kind.
As the week progressed, I branched out from my carb-heavy diet, incorporating more proteins like egg and tofu, all well-seasoned with fresh ginger. My favorite, also the easiest and fastest to prepare, was chawanmushi–a silky savory Japanese egg custard consisting mainly of eggs and broth. Traditionally, chawanmushi is made by gently steaming the custard covered for about 15-20 mins. depending on the size of the dish and the amount of custard. Fancy versions may include sliced mushrooms, chives, and even shrimp.
The broth is usually some form of dashi or bonito and kelp stock. For my version, I kept it simple–just a couple of beaten eggs, ginger-infused chicken broth, a tiny sprinkle of finely chopped scallion, and a couple of drops of toasted sesame oil. Instead of cooking the custard in a steamer basket, I chose the much speedier David Chang method of microwaving the chawanmushi. Five to six minutes on medium power and it was done–perfectly set with a silken texture. I drizzled on a little soy sauce and spooned the savory custard over a bowl of steamed white rice. I’d eat that anytime, sick or not.
Being injured and sick these last couple of weeks reminded me of the importance of rest, something I clearly didn’t do often enough. It’s not that I don’t know how to rest exactly, more like I’m not in the habit of making a conscious effort to rest–which is probably why I was able to work 14-hour days, on my feet with very few breaks. The chef/restaurant culture never allowed for illness or injuries and often praised those who could “power through” no matter what. In 25+years, I think I may have called out sick twice–once when I was delirious with fever from the flu and almost passed out, and once when I came down with a very bad case of food poisoning that knocked me off my feet. Strangely enough, I had no reservations about calling out sick prior to becoming a chef. The concept of “working injured” was definitely learned and drilled into my psyche, starting with my very first kitchen injury–a second-degree burn all over my right palm. I didn’t skip production class and even made it through a knife-skills practical, slicing and dicing my way through particularly hard, fibrous old carrots, which my chauvinistic, pompous chef instructor later boasted about deliberately giving me so I could “prove my worth.” Did it piss me off? You bet. But I was also perversely proud of myself for having pushed through the pain, despite potentially risking infection or further injury merely to prove myself, and earn that coveted “A.”
My own innate stubbornness coupled with a work culture that promoted, even celebrated, unhealthy habits, cultivated a mindset that has been slow to change, though I’m hardly alone in this. Many professionals in the food industry are reevaluating what is truly important and necessary to live a life more balanced. As I’ve noted before, it took a pandemic to precipitate a seismic shift in a problematic industry. And, it took a sprained knee and stomach bug, to force me to stop, fall back, breathe, and listen to my body.
I’ll admit it’s been hard sitting out on another bake sale, especially on Halloween–no iced pumpkin, ghost, bat, and black cat cookies, no mummy and monster cake pops.
A big part of me misses the hustle and bustle, the creative rush that comes with the holiday season. However, it is equally very nice not to wake up in a panic over misplaced racks of cupcakes or 200 forgotten cookie boxes…and to bake a brown butter pumpkin swirl babka just because I feel like it, not because I have to.
I infused my chicken stock with lots of fresh ginger, but you can keep it plain. A couple of pieces of cooked mushroom and/or shrimp are tasty add-ins.
Chawanmushi – Savory Japanese Egg Custard (adapted from David Chang)
Yield: 1 serving
- 2 large eggs
- 2/3 cup chicken or vegetable stock, or dashi
- 2-3 drops of toasted sesame oil
- salt to taste
- 1 teaspoon thinly sliced scallion or chopped chives
- 1/2 teaspoon soy sauce to finish
- Whisk together eggs, stock, salt, and sesame oil. Strain the mixture into a microwave-safe bowl.
- Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a lid.
- Set the power level at around 6 (for a 700-watt microwave) and cook the custard for 4-5 minutes. The custard should jiggle gently when shaken and just barely set in the center. If it’s too runny continue cooking at 30-second intervals.
- Let the egg finish gently steaming with the cover on for about 1-2 minutes.
- Finish with scallion and soy sauce.