Am I even Koreananymore if there’s no one left in my life to call and ask which brand of seaweed we used to buy
This phrase reminds me of the Koul's "There's No Recipe for Growing Up" because she constantly asked for her mother's advice on proportions to no avail.
The boy’s mom places pieces of beef from her spoon onto his spoon. He is quiet and looks tired and doesn’t talk to her much. Iwant to tell him how much I miss my mother. How he should be kind to his mom, remember that life is fragile and she could begone at any moment. Tell her to go to the doctor and make sure there isn’t a small tumor growing inside her
YES!!
He must be in his early twenties, but his mother is still instructing him on how to ea
I will never be too old in my mother's eyes to not receive guidance even if it is not called for.
. We’re all searching for a piece of home, or a piece of ourselve
This essay as a whole ties back to "Finding Sustenance" because it is surrounded by the values of visiting and relationships.
There is an Asian guy blowing his girlfriend’s mind, introducing her to a whole new world of avors and textures. He shows herhow to eat mul naengmyeon, a cold noodle soup that tastes better if you add vinegar and hot mustard rst.
This reminds me of Akbar's "How I Found Poetry In Childhood Prayer" because of the aspect of teaching and learning from someone.
space
I am genuinely surprised I have not been to an establishment like this
Elkins Park.
My mom would have to drive to the cities which is an hour and a half away from our house to find an Asian market.
I’ll cry when I see a Korean grandmother eating seafood noodles in the food court, discarding shrimp heads and mussel shells ontothe lid of her daughter’s tin rice bowl. Her gray hair frizzy, cheekbones protruding like the tops of two peaches, tattooed eyebrowsrusting as the ink fades out
I become somber as I could imagine my mother in the future becoming old and resembling the same features Zauner described down to the tattooed eyebrows.
I can tell you with a straight face what it was likewatching my mom’s hair fall out in the bathtub, or about the ve weeks I spent sleeping in hospitals, but catch me at H Mart whensome kid runs up double- sting plastic sleeves of ppeong-twigi and I’ll just lose it.
I can agree with this statement that sometimes the hardest part about the death of a family member is not the process of death itself but the reminiscing of the "good times"
I ll my shopping cart with every snack that has glossy packaging decorated with a familiar cartoon
The imagery is so powerful, especially coming from someone with a similar Asian background.
. No matter how critical or cruel she seemed—constantlypushing me to be what she felt was the best version of myself—I could always feel her affection radiating from the lunches shepacked and the meals she prepared for me just the way I liked them.
I can totally relate to this statement as my mom showed so much of her love through food and cooking.
aucasian father
Did her father express the same interest in food and culture as she did?