Yaedeul-a! Bab meogja!

Three small children come scurrying excitedly to a modest-sized wooden table for
dinner. At the centre is a still-bubbling pot of doenjang jjigae (fermented soybean paste
stew). Next to the pot is a large white bowl of gyeran jjim (steamed egg casserole).
Scattered on either side are small bowls of banchan (Korean side dishes), filled with
kimchi (spicy fermented cabbage), jangjorim (soy braised beef) and gim (dried salted
seaweed).

The three children eat with ease as they navigate their utensils, filling their spoons with
a pat of rice and a mouthful of stew and slurping it into their mouths in one fluid motion.
Their chopsticks move swiftly, although somewhat clumsily, snatching bits of kimchi and
gim and combining them with rice to make small seaweed rolls.

Their mother, Sarah Jeung, looks on with beaming eyes. A stay-at-home mom, Jeung is
committed to making sure her children do not lose their Korean identities. When
speaking to her, she asks that they speak in as much Korean as they can. When they
want to watch TV, she turns on Korean cartoons. When they have extra time, she takes
them to Korean school.

But the most consistent is the Korean food she prepares for dinner every night. Non-
Korean food like pizza, spaghetti, even burgers is served with small plates of
kimchi or mu (Korean radish) on the side.

Which is why, although her children may draw blanks when asked about Korean history,
they can identify the difference between kkakdugi (spicy pickled daikon) and oi kimchi
(spicy pickled cucumber) just by hearing their names.

Korean food is an integral part of its culture. For second-generation Koreans who are
otherwise disconnected from their roots, homemade food creates a feeling of belonging.

This feeling, called sosokgam in Korean, is important in Korean culture. Belonging to a

group, whether its to family or to friends or to an entire culture, and the sense of
togetherness and loyalty that follows is something that is always sought after in Korea.
According to Korean-American food blogger JinJoo Lee, this is due to Koreas roots in
Confucianism, which emphasizes the importance of family and respecting ones elders.

If you notice, Koreans always say, Our house (ooree jip), our family (ooree gajok), our
mother (ooree umma), as opposed to my house, my family and my mother in the
American culture, said Lee in an email. She created her food blog Kimchimari in 2011
and has been teaching her followers Korean recipes ever since.

However, to truly understand the importance of food to Koreans is to understand the

entire nation itself.
Korea is a peninsula surrounded by the West Sea, the East Sea and the East China
Sea. Because of this, Korean dishes consist of large amounts of seafood. Red meat is
expensive, so protein usually comes from seafood pieces of squid boiled in soup or
leftover rice fried with shrimp or chicken.

But perhaps an even bigger influence to Korean food than its environment is its history.

Koreas past is marked by multiple invasions from neighboring countries, most notably
by China and Japan. Japans 1910 annexation and subsequent 35-year-rule over Korea
marked a time of forced assimilation to the Japanese culture and language.

Although Korea has since regained its own sense of culture and identity, Japans
invasion has also left its distinct mark, however subtly from the Japanese words that
have slipped into everyday Korean lexicon to, of course, the food. Gimbap (seaweed
rice rolls), one of the most recognizable Korean dishes, is believed to have been
influenced by Japanese sushi.

Chinese influence is also evident in popular Korean foods. Jajangmyeon (black bean
sauce on noodles), a late-night takeout favourite, originated in China, as did tangsuyuk
(deep fried sweet and sour pork) and jjamppong (spicy seafood noodle soup).

The Korean War left South Korea in poverty and spurred its subsequent economic
revival, which one scholar called one of the most dramatic declines in absolute poverty
that the world has seen. But before that revival, Korean history was marked by
consistent cross-generational pain: from starvation, from poverty, from colonization.
This history is written into all of its foods.

Because food was scarce, Korean recipes are very flexible and open to improvisation.
This carries on to homemade Korean food today Jeung doesnt even know exactly
what she puts into her dishes, or how much.

A little bit of this and that, she says.

Lee says this history comes to life through shared traditions of family recipes.

The making of [foods such as] kimchi, doenjang [and] gochujang (spicy red chili paste)
were passed down from generation to generation, with each province and family having
their own way of making them. Through these traditions, the wisdom of thousands of
years are passed down.

----

Two weeks later, the Jeung family is making mandoo (dumplings) together.
The children are given raw circular dumpling wrappers. A large bowl of filling which
includes cabbage, ground pork, onions and kimchi is placed at the centre of the table,
with a small bowl of water right next to it.

Ill show you how to make these. Look, wet the outside of the wrapper like this,
instructs Jeung in Korean.

The children are all quick to dip their fingers in the water, wetting the outsides of their
dumplings and placing a pile of filling in the middle. They make up stories with the
shapes of their dumplings.

This is Mr. Puffyman! This is Mr. Triangle! they shout to each other.

The children put all their somewhat misshapen dumplings on a plate, and they come out
steamed ten minutes later. The translucent shells case perfectly softened ingredients.

In Korea, a long time ago, an entire extended family lived together, Jeung says. She
recalls times where all the males of her family uncles, fathers, grandfathers would
help make kimchi together.

As the children eat, Jeung tells them about mandoo how it was originally a Chinese
food, how the wrappers used to be homemade, how the added kimchi is a Korean twist.

I didnt know that, they say each time.

----

For some Korean-Canadians, Korean food means more than just belonging to Korean
culture. Sunny Chun is one of those people. Last year, her mother moved back to Korea
for work, leaving the 19-year-old student responsible for her own cooking.

This explains her freezer, full of assorted Tupperware containers. Theyre mostly frozen
soups, like samgyetang (ginseng chicken soup), kimchi jjigae (kimchi stew) and yuk gae
jang (spicy beef soup), prepared and frozen by her mother from the last time she visited
Toronto.

Its all stuff I wouldnt really be able to make myself, she says.

She speaks nonchalantly as she adds spoonfuls of bean paste to a simmering pot of
doenjang jjigae and flips sizzling slices of Spam on a frying pan.

The only time [my mom and I] can really talk is when were eating, because otherwise
were both busy with work.
When she still lived in Toronto, Chuns mother used to prepare food for her and the two
would eat together, a routine that helped her feel close to her mom. Now, its the
screens of their phones that shrinks the distance between them.

After cooking the main dishes, she takes out containers of banchan (side dishes): slices
of kimchi, kkaennip (pickled perilla leaves) and oi kimchi (cucumber kimchi); all made by
her mother and locked away in their respective Tupperware containers.

Chun says she almost always eats only Korean food.

I dont think Korea is where I belong to live, but [Korean food] is what I grew up with. If
youre Korean, youll always go back to eating Korean food.

Korean food in general makes her feel at ease she claims her body even digests it
better but her moms Korean food in particular creates a special feeling of home. Her
moms Korean food is Chuns sosokgam.

Even if I have the same thing that [my mom] makes for me, its different because shes
my mom. She puts a lot of care into it.

She takes a sip of her stew and makes a face.

Wow, this is really salty.

----

Now that there are companies like LG and Samsung, I think Korean schools are doing
better. These days, [Korean] people feel jealous if your children can speak and read
Korean, says Jeung.

Its an understatement to say that Korea has come a long way from its historical
poverty. Through its advances in technology, popular culture and even plastic surgery,
South Korea is unrecognizable from its humble past.

Immigrant parents who were once embarrassed of their Korean roots now boast to their
friends if their children can speak the language.

After eating, Jeungs son asks her, Umma (Mommy), are your friends jealous that I can
speak English and their kids cant?

Jeung looks at him quizzically and laughs.

English? she says.

You should be good at Korean.

Source list

Sarah Jeung
647 746 5986

Sunny Chun
647 203 0565

JinJoo Lee
jinjoofood@gmail.com

Research sources

http://afe.easia.columbia.edu/main_pop/kpct/kp_koreaimperialism.htm
http://www.foodbycountry.com/Kazakhstan-to-South-Africa/Korea.html
http://www.pbs.org/hiddenkorea/food.htm
https://www.brookings.edu/articles/koreas-path-from-poverty-to-philanthropy/
http://citeseerx.ist.psu.edu/viewdoc/download?doi=10.1.1.198.7202&rep=rep1&type=pdf
https://books.google.ca/books?id=bKW8_RhVwkEC&pg=PA261&lpg=PA261&dq=is+a+
senseo+f+belonging+important+to+korean+culture&source=bl&ots=Ms0BqIsE-
b&sig=8oVYob6dCl6j_v3v1o0RXqF9ATw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwin0rXUlsDPAh
WM6oMKHZiIA1EQ6AEIIDAA#v=onepage&q=is%20a%20senseo%20f%20belonging%
20important%20to%20korean%20culture&f=false