My Mother’s Menu

Monday: ???

Tuesday: Tacos

Wednesday: Spaghetti with meat sauce

Thursday: ?? ???

Friday: Teriyaki pineapple chicken meatballs

Saturday: ???? with ?????

Sunday: Grilled chicken with tzatziki, pita, and cucumbers

———

These words were written neatly on a sheet ripped from a notepad, hanging in the kitchen next to the large Korean calendar we get from our church every New Year’s. My mom wrote one of these loosely-planned lists every week. She never announced it to us or asked for input; it was just a simple list to remind her what to cook for our dinner during her busy week, her quiet way of staying organized.?

We’d go from eating traditional Korean food one night to having American or Italian the next. I never thought much of it, it was just what we ate. But looking back, I realize that my mom’s menus were true reflections of her journey, and our family’s way of balancing two cultures.?

My mom immigrated from South Korea when she was 24 to attend grad school in North Carolina, leaving her parents, brother, and three sisters behind. With no physical ties to Korea anymore other than her own body, she found comfort in Korean food. Although she didn’t have many recipes in her back pocket, she made what she knew, and she made them well.?

She adapted rather quickly to life in America. She had to, or else she’d fall behind in her classes. As she made a life for herself here, she picked up new recipes from other cuisines along the way. Her menus gradually assimilated and evolved with her, but Korean recipes like her ?? (tteokguk, or rice cake soup), which she learned from her mom, kept her connected to her roots.?

Like my mom, I’ve had to navigate two cultures: Korean and American. I’ve struggled with that balance, especially since I’m not fluent in Korean, but food has always been my connection to my cultural heritage. Through her menus, she has shown me that it’s possible to carry pieces of where you come from while still embracing where you are now.

I always think of those menus when making my own for the week—writing down the few dishes she passed on to me, while adding new recipes I’ve learned along the way that reflect my own dual identity.