김치 (kimchi)

To discover that my gut microbiome could have been reset daily by the rich probiotic anti-inflammatory effect of 김치 kimchi, the famously Korean staple, is another route (pun unintended) in the return to my 뿌리 bboori (roots). I used to find the napa cabbage version of kimchi to be “advanced or intermediate Korean,” in contrast to bulgogi (barbecue meat. I almost resisted the temptation to reveal that the 불고기 are the Korean words for “fire” and “meat” together.) which is Korean food for beginners. And by beginners—I mean butter-loving Westerners.

As I savored my breakfast kimchi, the sea salty peppery visceral memory flashed a bit like lightning. Then moved on. (As a Korean adopted person, I often wonder what returns from experiences before there was vocabulary to contain them.).

This weekend, during a poignant surreal play You for Me for You by a Korean playwright, Mia Chung, which I attended with both native Koreans and an American friend, we were all confused by the imagery. However, from the first word “언니 (older sister)” to the perplexing image of a bear during what appeared to be a dream sequence, I applied basic Korean to make connections. I asked the Korean friends afterward if the similarity between the word for bear and dream might explain the presence of this animal. One friend confirmed that 굼 (bear) and 꿈 (dream) indeed sounded similar in Korean.

During lunch with 2 other Korean adopted friends, I ordered “edamame sticks” which appeared to be a Korean fusion menu item for a Western palate while the rest of the party (which included a spouse who was not Korean nor adopted) had 비빔밥 (bibimbap) and 만둣국 (dumpling soup). Sometimes ordering Korean food feels like I’m trying too hard. In fact, when out with the Korean friends, they ordered pulled pork and chicken bacon ranch.

Straddling both US and Korean culture, have I advanced to intermediate Korean status? I dare to dream. 🐻