The Importance of Bibimbap for the Korean American in the Valley
Growing up Korean in Massachusetts has been an existence always defined by boundaries, absences, nostalgia, and a sense of belonging or not belonging. Nowhere is this more prevalent than in Korean cuisine. Despite the sudden emergence of Korean food as the newest greatest thing, with kimchi and bulgogi tacos, short ribs and corn bread, or Korean BBQ potato chips, for me, seeking out Korean food has everything to do with my mother and my childhood, and to a certain degree, the Korean Catholic community that I grew up in.
I could start a list of important nostalgia food... or food of yearning, and on that list would be naengmyun, a summery cold noodle soup; kimchee, of course; bulgogi, thin sliced grilled meat; bindaetteok, mung bean pancakes; and, of course, bibimbap.
This list of food could go on and on, especially when you include holiday foods and snacks like dried squid, but, there is another factor to consider, which is that I have yet to meet a Korean mother (or father, chef, son, etc.) who can make Korean food quite like my mother. My sense is that, all Korean children are imprinted with what the ideal Korean food tastes like, and for the remainder of our lives, we spend our days searching for that taste that we only get when we return home. But, I must say, my mother's food is something special, even among mothers. Perhaps it is unfair to compare a carefully and lovingly prepared home cooked meal with something assembled in a restaurant... but there is always the possibility.
I have also tried to replicate my mother's cooking... at times writing out recipes with my mom's precise measurements of, a little bit of this, and some of that.... With a bit of luck I can get close. The thing that helps most, more than finer units of measurement, is taking time and care. My mother once explained that she slices the shoots of scallions once lengthwise and then chops them at an angle because it allows for more flavor to come through. It is this kind of care that delivers an exceptional experience. While many Korean meals take a long time to prepare, it is not like my mother belabors over these details, it is just how she does things, the same way she takes care in the cut of meat that she chooses and the way she seeks out the freshest vegetables.
So, that said, I actually did not grow up eating bibimbap all that often because it is a kind of mishmash of a dish that I mainly experienced at church dinners where a mass of mothers would gather, each responsible for some portion of the ingredients, and we would receive our styrofoam bowls (heresy, I hear some people say) assembly line style, each ingredient added by chopsticks as the bowl was passed down the line, and eat them on the folding metal chairs used for Sunday school classes and AA meetings. We would usually have them with some bulgogi on top, but when I had it in Korea they called it the buddhist's lunch because it was totally vegetarian. What has transformed bibimbap into this mystical nostalgic experience is that each of the parts exist independently in other dishes or as side dishes for other meals, but in bibimbap it is all brought together in one bowl. It is the essences of Korean backyard barbecues, picnics at the beach, holiday celebrations, meals after funerals and weddings. In all the confusing contradictions of growing up Korean in America, food was the one thing where everything was clear: I am Korean.
For me, a good bibimbap is where each of the parts is as important as the whole. What this means is that washing the spinach, how it is cooked in a pan, and how it is flavored, is just as important as how the kongnamool is cooked and prepared, and even the kimchee. An abbreviation of any one of these processes is forgivable because of the sheer effort of the undertaking, but it must be understood that the overall result is degraded. What this also means is that, when making bibimbap for a dinner party for people (read caucasian), who may not know what bibimbap is supposed to taste like, and if you want to do it right, each ingredient must be prepared individually ahead of time and with care. If your son is home and dinner is running a little late, one can still throw together a bibimbap that is good, healthy, and fulfilling, but it probably won't have that special extra thing that causes or alleviates yearning and nostalgia.
As a child, I would never have imagined Korean food would gain a foothold in American cuisine. At the time, people still squirmed and ran from the idea of eating seaweed, let alone squid or kimchee. What will become apparent to the intrepid foodie who experiences enough Korean food, is that every dish varies by degrees. What at first seems like something that can be bottled mass marketed and drizzled over a steak, is really something that is fine tuned by each cook... who in turn has been fine tuned by their mother. What for one person is just perfect, for another is too sweet, or not savory enough, or obscures the taste of the meat or vegetable.
The Bibim Blog is my attempt to explore this beloved dish... one that seems to encapsulate so much about what it means to be Korean all into one bowl. Sometimes, it is the one thing that connects me from this place to the place of my childhood. I'm thankful that in this valley, in fact throughout the country, we can now find so many places to have Korean food in all of its varieties and styles. What appeals to me and my palette my not abide by your tongue and your upbringing, but I will try to share my experience with you, and I invite you to share your own observations and discoveries from within the stone bowl.
I could start a list of important nostalgia food... or food of yearning, and on that list would be naengmyun, a summery cold noodle soup; kimchee, of course; bulgogi, thin sliced grilled meat; bindaetteok, mung bean pancakes; and, of course, bibimbap.
This list of food could go on and on, especially when you include holiday foods and snacks like dried squid, but, there is another factor to consider, which is that I have yet to meet a Korean mother (or father, chef, son, etc.) who can make Korean food quite like my mother. My sense is that, all Korean children are imprinted with what the ideal Korean food tastes like, and for the remainder of our lives, we spend our days searching for that taste that we only get when we return home. But, I must say, my mother's food is something special, even among mothers. Perhaps it is unfair to compare a carefully and lovingly prepared home cooked meal with something assembled in a restaurant... but there is always the possibility.
I have also tried to replicate my mother's cooking... at times writing out recipes with my mom's precise measurements of, a little bit of this, and some of that.... With a bit of luck I can get close. The thing that helps most, more than finer units of measurement, is taking time and care. My mother once explained that she slices the shoots of scallions once lengthwise and then chops them at an angle because it allows for more flavor to come through. It is this kind of care that delivers an exceptional experience. While many Korean meals take a long time to prepare, it is not like my mother belabors over these details, it is just how she does things, the same way she takes care in the cut of meat that she chooses and the way she seeks out the freshest vegetables.
So, that said, I actually did not grow up eating bibimbap all that often because it is a kind of mishmash of a dish that I mainly experienced at church dinners where a mass of mothers would gather, each responsible for some portion of the ingredients, and we would receive our styrofoam bowls (heresy, I hear some people say) assembly line style, each ingredient added by chopsticks as the bowl was passed down the line, and eat them on the folding metal chairs used for Sunday school classes and AA meetings. We would usually have them with some bulgogi on top, but when I had it in Korea they called it the buddhist's lunch because it was totally vegetarian. What has transformed bibimbap into this mystical nostalgic experience is that each of the parts exist independently in other dishes or as side dishes for other meals, but in bibimbap it is all brought together in one bowl. It is the essences of Korean backyard barbecues, picnics at the beach, holiday celebrations, meals after funerals and weddings. In all the confusing contradictions of growing up Korean in America, food was the one thing where everything was clear: I am Korean.
For me, a good bibimbap is where each of the parts is as important as the whole. What this means is that washing the spinach, how it is cooked in a pan, and how it is flavored, is just as important as how the kongnamool is cooked and prepared, and even the kimchee. An abbreviation of any one of these processes is forgivable because of the sheer effort of the undertaking, but it must be understood that the overall result is degraded. What this also means is that, when making bibimbap for a dinner party for people (read caucasian), who may not know what bibimbap is supposed to taste like, and if you want to do it right, each ingredient must be prepared individually ahead of time and with care. If your son is home and dinner is running a little late, one can still throw together a bibimbap that is good, healthy, and fulfilling, but it probably won't have that special extra thing that causes or alleviates yearning and nostalgia.
As a child, I would never have imagined Korean food would gain a foothold in American cuisine. At the time, people still squirmed and ran from the idea of eating seaweed, let alone squid or kimchee. What will become apparent to the intrepid foodie who experiences enough Korean food, is that every dish varies by degrees. What at first seems like something that can be bottled mass marketed and drizzled over a steak, is really something that is fine tuned by each cook... who in turn has been fine tuned by their mother. What for one person is just perfect, for another is too sweet, or not savory enough, or obscures the taste of the meat or vegetable.
The Bibim Blog is my attempt to explore this beloved dish... one that seems to encapsulate so much about what it means to be Korean all into one bowl. Sometimes, it is the one thing that connects me from this place to the place of my childhood. I'm thankful that in this valley, in fact throughout the country, we can now find so many places to have Korean food in all of its varieties and styles. What appeals to me and my palette my not abide by your tongue and your upbringing, but I will try to share my experience with you, and I invite you to share your own observations and discoveries from within the stone bowl.
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