Saeu-jeot (Salted Shrimp)

At the salted-seafood stall, saeu-jeot is not one thing. The ajumma will ask the month before she asks the price: ojeot from the fifth lunar month, yukjeot from the sixth, chujeot from autumn. Yukjeot is the one people prize for kimjang (winter kimchi making) and bossam (boiled pork wraps), full enough to chew, clean enough to season without shouting. Cook the month you're standing in.

This preserve lives or dies by two numbers: how fresh the shrimp are when salt touches them, and how much salt by weight. My teacher, Master Seong-nyeo, made us weigh after draining, not before, because rinse water is not shrimp. For a home jar, use 25 percent sea salt to drained shrimp weight, then a salt cap. Less salt is not thrift. It is a gamble.

Tonight it asks not for heat but for clean hands, a cold bowl, and patience. You will sort the shrimp, rinse them in salt water, drain, salt, pack, and let the refrigerator do the slow work an onggi yard did when houses were cooler. 시대가 바뀌면 음식도 바뀌어야 해요 (when times change, food must change too). Use glass if you must. Do not shorten the salt.