I am the son of South Korean immigrants, husband to a native New Yorker, uncle to a budding foodie, and native to the South by way of the East Tennessee foothills. The subject of food has always been a significant aspect of my life in some shape or form, specifically because of the power of it.
When I was younger I once heard something that resonated with me my whole life. It was that children forget that their parents were also young once. Growing up, that felt especially true in my case as my parents didn’t seem to have any pictures or fond memories of a carefree life back in occupied and an impoverished South Korea.
But eventually I grew up and the wedge of unfamiliarity between my parents and me slowly disseminated over many homemade Korean meals. At our dinner table, my parents would paint vivid pictures of their childhood or young adult years sparked by random dishes set before us that reminded them of something in their past. I didn’t need to see pictures of them