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Category: Personal Notes

  • Salt Bread Recipe Fail: My Salt Muscle Bread & Lesson on Skipping Proofing

    Salt Bread Recipe Fail: My Salt Muscle Bread & Lesson on Skipping Proofing

    Yes, this is my first-ever Salt Bread creation. The color is pretty accurate, but the signature flaky chewiness is gone, replaced by the texture of pure, tough muscle. 💪

    I had always hoped that one day I would make a ‘proper’ loaf of yeast bread. Unfortunately, this initial process proved incredibly difficult, leading to an utter disaster with clear reasons:

    The Reasons for Failure:

    1. Skipping a Crucial Ingredient: No bread flour (high-protein flour) was available, so I had to skip it entirely. If you want to avoid my mistake, it’s vital to understand the science behind bread flour and gluten development. ↗
    2. Premature Abandonment: I eventually abandoned the third proof halfway through, sealing the fate of my Salt Bread.
    My shortcuts had consequences.

    The Kneading Challenge:

    As I frantically kneaded the dough, my arms felt like they were about to detach from my body. The painful thought that kept running through my mind was: I desperately need to build up my basic physical strength. Does one really have to start bulking up just to bake a loaf of bread? The immediate next thought: Register for the GYM immediately! While this mental chain reaction continued, the dough failed to reach that expected glossy, plump state. Instead, it remained a frustratingly sticky mess, stubbornly clinging to my hands. My final resolution: I’ll just buy bread next time. Seoul now has an overwhelming number of incredible bakery shops with such a wide selection. Too wide, in fact…

    Patience is required during the kneading and proofing of the dough.

    The Lesson:

    The golden rule of baking is to adhere strictly to the recipe and steps; only then can you hope for a decent outcome. I understood this truth, but ultimately, my body gave up under the strain… Ultimately, it might have been a different story if I had a stand mixer (or dough machine). Also, considering the serious amount of butter required, I’m genuinely hesitant to make it again—or even eat this dense result.

    Nevertheless, the process of baking remains a form of meditative escape.

    I am writing this post to document my failure, hoping that this case study will be helpful to other first-time bakers like myself and prevent others from making the same mistakes.

    This was my first time trying salt bread, but don’t worry—I do have reliable recipes for macarons, walnut pie, carrot cake, and scones. Stay tuned! My successful baking adventures will be posted soon.

    Disastrous first salt bread attempt failure tough texture
    Despite everything, the act of baking offers a chance to clear the mind.

    Read More https://everythreepm.com/?p=2236&preview=true

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  • Neighborhood Memories:The quiet comfort of my familiar lanes

    Neighborhood Memories:The quiet comfort of my familiar lanes

    The deep, quiet peace in the geography I could navigate blindfolded.

    My Second Identity

    This neighborhood is where I’ve lived virtually my whole life; it is my constant. To my nieces and nephews, I am simply “Auntie [Neighborhood Name],” the designation of this place having long served as my secondary name, like ‘Auntie SoHo’ or ‘Auntie Brooklyn.’ While it’s the vault for all my memories, I confess I know little of its modern pulse—the hot spots and insider knowledge held by the younger crowd. But that level of knowing is irrelevant. There is a deep, quiet peace in the geography I could navigate blindfolded.

    The Constant Cheer and Natural Pulse

    It is also unique here because the neighborhood, having once hosted the Olympic Games, holds an annual marathon. Thanks to that legacy, the area is always vibrant, and the cheers from the sidelines often feel powerfully uplifting. It is a place of frequent large and small events, from concerts to major sports games. It’s a place that never has a quiet day. What immense luck that is! When I walk home late at night after cheering, I get to savor that incredible energy all the way to my door. 

    However, the intensity of city life is easily balanced here. Because nature and parks seamlessly interweave with the city, I can always escape the noise and take a deep breath of grass and earth whenever I need to.

    Aging Backwards: A Place That Grows

    They say that what looked big in childhood feels small when you grow up. But not here. As I age and as the neighborhood ages, it seems only to grow grander and younger simultaneously. This was just a brief thought about my town—the place that has held and embraced me.

    The area has evolved—it’s bolder, denser, more refined—but I still walk the same old lanes that were once charmingly rustic.

    And still, it holds me.

    Cool air, open space. Time to move. Run, everyone!

    Much of what once stood here is now preserved in archives at the Seoul Museum of History.

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  • The Madonna Socks That Started My Lifelong Obsession (It’s Not About Fashion, It’s About Fixation)

    The Madonna Socks That Started My Lifelong Obsession (It’s Not About Fashion, It’s About Fixation)

    This is not a fashion critique of the 80s, but the opening chapter of a lifelong obsession.

    It all started with a new friend, recently transferred from the U.S., and the thousand pairs of socks she seemed to own. Her thick, pastel-colored socks—pooled gracefully around her ankles, paired with colorful Ellesse or Reebok high-tops—instantly brought to mind a young Madonna strutting down a school hallway. Those socks became my first, utterly specific, and defining fixation.

    Styling High-Tops: The Perfect Sock Match

    Until then, I’d never given socks a second thought. But suddenly, they became an object of deep desire. I had to have them. Back then in Korea, this specific design was utterly unavailable, so I implored a relative who was traveling to the U.S. to bring me a pair. I’m quite certain I was the only kid in the country with such a specific obsession.

    And here is the strange truth

    Perhaps it wasn’t really about the socks themselves. Instead, it was the distance — the idea that they had to cross the Pacific Ocean just to reach me — that made them feel so special, so unreachable. This distance was the true object of my desire, the small, tangible longing that defines so many childhood obsessions.

    We All Carry a Little Obsession

    That affection for socks never left me. I’ve noticed that childhood obsessions often stay with us well into adulthood. These fixations are usually tied to something small and tangible, often representing a tiny gap or longing from our youth that we still try to fill. It’s a relief that my deepest desire didn’t settle on cars or jewels, but merely on a specific type of cotton. People around me still chase their own tiny fixations: buying boxes of crayons they’ll never use, eating pork cutlets every week, collecting figures or cartoon merch. Beneath those habits, there’s always a tender story of a childhood longing.

    So yes, it is a great relief that my deepest desire settled on cotton, not cars or jewels. I fully expect to be an old lady in her eighties, and this persistent, tiny fixation on the perfect pair of socks will still be the most perfectly matched, and joyfully selected, thing in my life.

    *slouch socks https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slouch_sock

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