The Closest Thing to Home Cooking
I'm a Korean-Irish kid from DC that digs rice and soju as much as I do potatoes and whiskey. My sister and I were raised in a home that alternated between stuff as WASPy as pot roast and cabbage with a fork and knife at the kitchen table and sitting on the floor at a Korean tea table that only stands a couple feet above the ground enjoying pan-fried mandu along with japchae. I like to think being biracial meant this grand expanded palette and I do generally enjoy foods from all over the world. There is one glaring exception given my heritage:
I don't really like kimchi. At all. No soul-searching backstory, no amusing anecdote, no auditory metaphor where I try to connect this to music and rhythm as usual. I just don't like kimchi.
"Oh, Sam!" I can already hear some of you, "It's a staple in Korean cuisine! Maybe the homemade stuff just wasn't right for you. The restaurant-prepared kimchi is a lot better!"
Yeah, look, I've had plenty of restaurant kimchi in my 3+ decades on this good, green Earth and, yes, my sister and I generally enjoy the restaurant kimchi more than the pickled cabbage we used to ferment every winter but it still doesn't do it for me. I will literally eat any other Korean thing than kimchi.
If I was good when my mom and I went to Asian supermarkets as a kid, she would get me these strips of deep fried octopus or strawberry flavored gum if she was worried about me ruining my appetite ahead of dinner. There is a comfort in both of those things as there is sitting at the table of a Korean BBQ watching pork and beef sizzle on a round iron grill, those familiar scents of red pepper and soy wafting through the air.
There is no comfort to be had from kimchi. Annoyed my mom to no end.
On the flip side of that is Anglo-Irish fare. I've been on the other side of the pond quite a few times now and I've already got my favorite fish and chips shop lined up anytime I find myself in London; once, on a trip in college, I swung by only to find out they were closed on Sundays. I was heartbroken for the 18 hours I had to wait. The feel of that oil from the beer-battered cod and curry fries getting wiped off on the newspaper they bundle it all with is a definite sensory memory for me. And I will judge the shit out of any Anglo-Irish pub here in the States that can't get their fish and chips right. Those places totally exist in depressing frequency.
Something I found interesting is that my mom always thought Anglo-Irish cuisine was too salty and sweet (Koreans, somewhat notoriously in the East Asian world, are terribly bland when it comes to dessert) while my dad thought Korean food was generally too spicy. When my parents got married, my mom wanted to make a good impression with her new in-laws so she prepared this grand spread of kimchi for them. The thing is, my father's side of the family are all middle-aged to elderly Irish folks living on a steady diet of the most laughably bland food possible (My dad will sometimes remark quite seriously that fried rice can get too spicy for him). The kimchi my mom prepared at that wedding sent half the guests straight to the bathrooms. Maybe this aversion comes from my dad's side but my sister loves the stuff.
Whenever we were in the UK, especially Scotland, my mom wasn't overly fond of the cuisine: Black and white sausage, British bacon, bangers and mash. She once ordered some kipper in Glasgow because she thought fish would be a safe choice only to get a couple polite bites in because of how salty it was.
On the drink front there was always tea. Green tea heavy on ginseng and ginger from my mom to cure basically childhood ailment I had. No, she didn't add honey (An aversion to sweet things on that side, remember). My grandmother would always offer a cup of tea or coffee whenever we visited first thing, no matter what time of day. And we would drink it regularly there. They were big on Lipton so those little yellow and white tea bags give me a bit of a visual flashback whenever I see them; I immediately feel like I'm at that old brick house in Falls Church watching Britcoms and being educated on military history by my grandfather in his library.
So as I sit here and finalize plans to meet with my sister over some Korean BBQ for the first time in a long time, I get to thinking about all those foods that informed my upbringing. Most of the stuff I cook isn't usually from old family recipes (Though I've messed around with my grandmother's Irish soda bread recipe before) so moments like this are the closest thing to home cooking for us.
I don't really like kimchi. At all. No soul-searching backstory, no amusing anecdote, no auditory metaphor where I try to connect this to music and rhythm as usual. I just don't like kimchi.
"Oh, Sam!" I can already hear some of you, "It's a staple in Korean cuisine! Maybe the homemade stuff just wasn't right for you. The restaurant-prepared kimchi is a lot better!"
Yeah, look, I've had plenty of restaurant kimchi in my 3+ decades on this good, green Earth and, yes, my sister and I generally enjoy the restaurant kimchi more than the pickled cabbage we used to ferment every winter but it still doesn't do it for me. I will literally eat any other Korean thing than kimchi.
If I was good when my mom and I went to Asian supermarkets as a kid, she would get me these strips of deep fried octopus or strawberry flavored gum if she was worried about me ruining my appetite ahead of dinner. There is a comfort in both of those things as there is sitting at the table of a Korean BBQ watching pork and beef sizzle on a round iron grill, those familiar scents of red pepper and soy wafting through the air.
There is no comfort to be had from kimchi. Annoyed my mom to no end.
On the flip side of that is Anglo-Irish fare. I've been on the other side of the pond quite a few times now and I've already got my favorite fish and chips shop lined up anytime I find myself in London; once, on a trip in college, I swung by only to find out they were closed on Sundays. I was heartbroken for the 18 hours I had to wait. The feel of that oil from the beer-battered cod and curry fries getting wiped off on the newspaper they bundle it all with is a definite sensory memory for me. And I will judge the shit out of any Anglo-Irish pub here in the States that can't get their fish and chips right. Those places totally exist in depressing frequency.
Something I found interesting is that my mom always thought Anglo-Irish cuisine was too salty and sweet (Koreans, somewhat notoriously in the East Asian world, are terribly bland when it comes to dessert) while my dad thought Korean food was generally too spicy. When my parents got married, my mom wanted to make a good impression with her new in-laws so she prepared this grand spread of kimchi for them. The thing is, my father's side of the family are all middle-aged to elderly Irish folks living on a steady diet of the most laughably bland food possible (My dad will sometimes remark quite seriously that fried rice can get too spicy for him). The kimchi my mom prepared at that wedding sent half the guests straight to the bathrooms. Maybe this aversion comes from my dad's side but my sister loves the stuff.
Whenever we were in the UK, especially Scotland, my mom wasn't overly fond of the cuisine: Black and white sausage, British bacon, bangers and mash. She once ordered some kipper in Glasgow because she thought fish would be a safe choice only to get a couple polite bites in because of how salty it was.
On the drink front there was always tea. Green tea heavy on ginseng and ginger from my mom to cure basically childhood ailment I had. No, she didn't add honey (An aversion to sweet things on that side, remember). My grandmother would always offer a cup of tea or coffee whenever we visited first thing, no matter what time of day. And we would drink it regularly there. They were big on Lipton so those little yellow and white tea bags give me a bit of a visual flashback whenever I see them; I immediately feel like I'm at that old brick house in Falls Church watching Britcoms and being educated on military history by my grandfather in his library.
So as I sit here and finalize plans to meet with my sister over some Korean BBQ for the first time in a long time, I get to thinking about all those foods that informed my upbringing. Most of the stuff I cook isn't usually from old family recipes (Though I've messed around with my grandmother's Irish soda bread recipe before) so moments like this are the closest thing to home cooking for us.
