Ellipse Magazine

KIMCHI

KANG | DICKMAN

 
Another day in elementary school. Pencils Down. Bells Ringing. LUNCH TIME. I sit with my friends.They pull out their ham sandwiches and I pull out my bento box filled with kimchi, bulgogi, and rice. My friends start screeching at the smell as they hold their noses. I think to myself “why did my parents pack me this food?” even though I know the amount of effort it took to prepare each side dish.

                After hearing that my food is stinky many times, I beg and beg my parents to get me a “normal” lunch. Years later, high school hits. I post different types of
              Korean food onto my social media and people message
              me saying, “ew, what is that?” “that looks disgusting” “is that dog food?” This was what it was like growing up as an Asian American, but you wouldn’t know this if you aren’t.

              Fast forward a couple years, and all these trends with restaurants are starting to pop up everywhere. I see on their menu everything I grew up with, but not in traditional settings. Everything has been Americanized and transformed to make it “trendier.” All of the traditional steps that one has to go through to get the perfect dish aren’t used.

 “This was what it was like growing up as an Asian American, but you wouldn’t know this if you aren’t.”

 
          My grandma’s recipe for kimchi passed down through many generations. It has been ingrained 
              in her memory such that that she doesn’t even need to look at the recipe anymore. She learned through muscle memory and experience. Every ingredient has a purpose and everyone’s family has a 
              different recipe.

              Just as Americans cherish their grandma’s homemade apple pie recipe, immigrants from Asia carried their
            traditions to North America. They spread their traditions, and eventually these made their way into restaurants attempting to emulate authentic taste and style. These restaurants think that they can just slap on the word “Korean” in front of various vegetables and call it a “Korean dish.”

 
          I once bought a hamburger with kimchi slaw. I was expecting the kimchi that I know and love, but instead I received wet vegetables without any care and delicacy. It was not even close to kimchi, since there was no spiciness and fermentation. They were trying to tell me that this “kimchi” slaw was in fact Korean because it had the word “kimchi.” However, kimchi is a labor of love and everything needs to be meticulously done in order for it to taste good.

              Each step requires precision and gentleness. With my grandma, brining the napa cabbage took multiple days so that the leaves could wilt and then be washed out. She also added  other vegetables, including mustard greens, Korean radish, and long green onion, to the napa cabbage. The combination of each was altered from the original recipe to fit what she loved most. She  then
              used shrimp, Korean red pepper flakes, fish sauce, Korean pear, onions, and apples all blended together to create the seasoning. To create a sweeter taste to the dish, she boiled together onion skins, shrimp shells, and long green onions. She preferred this over plain water. The Korean red pepper flakes are what gives kimchi its beautiful vibrance and distinctive red hue.

Kimchi takes time as it is done across multiple days. Time is essential with kimchi because time will determine how you can use it. If you ferment the kimchi longer it will be better for use in stews, casseroles, and fried rice; with shorter fermentation times, it will serve better as a side dish.

My family’s recipe will be passed down to me. I love kimchi since it brings me comfort. This is partly due to the nostalgia of the dish. I am excited that I will be able to share this experience with others, given the trendy culture around kimchi. I hope to educate the future generation on how best to prepare this dish.