Isaac Yoo
Hometown: Irvine, California
Computer Science and Psychology Double-Major
Isaac Yoo is a rising junior at Emory University pursuing a computer science and psychology degree. He is from Irvine, California and is fascinated by the role of artificial intelligence in today’s quickly evolving world. Using the spare time available during the shelter-in-place, he has eaten a lot of noodles and started an eCommerce business. He enjoys the art of cooking – both the process of preparing a dish and enjoying it afterward.
Reflection on Making
Japchae 잡채
“Kids! Grab a plate, use the tongs, and help yourselves to a friendly amount!” Growing up, this phrase was an all-too-common reoccurrence for me at parties and gatherings alike. Our small legs would scurry past the rice cakes and chicken drumsticks for this one delicacy: japchae. Despite our distaste for vegetables and anything remotely healthy, such rules did not matter when it came to this mouthwatering dish – on and on the noodles and greens went into our mouths! While I may not have lived that long yet, I know one principle to stand true: food is versatile. It is customized to our own likings through the length of time we cook a certain dish or the amount of spices we add to garnish it. These minute differences lead to a plethora of combinations, and such varieties lead to the birth of new dishes that are delicious in themselves. I have chosen to analyze japchae, as childhood memories with this dish have taught me much about meanings that go beyond the nutritional values themselves. Recipes are merely suggestions – the real cooking process is truly an experiment that may result in scrumptious specialties or catastrophic frustrations. Through my experiences with food, I have learned that cultural and societal beliefs influence the methods and norms observed in cooking, evident through japchae’s extensive historical timeline.
Japchae (잡채), a sweet stir-fried noodle dish, consists of dangmyeon (당면) – chewy glass noodles made from sweet potato starch, a choice of meat, and a variety of vegetables. Beef and pork are used interchangeably, and common vegetables include spinach, onions, carrots, mushrooms, and scallions. Japchae holds several characteristics that differentiate it from other stir-fried dishes. In order to create the perfect japchae dish, one must prepare each ingredient separately. The vegetables and meats cannot be stir-fried together – rather, each element must be put over the fire one by one. After stir-frying all the ingredients, they are mixed together with the noodles and seasoned with sugar, soy sauce, sesame seeds, and sesame oil. Koreans enjoy this dish, both as a side dish and a main dish, oftentimes combining it with rice to create “japchae bap”, or japchae rice. Japchae is quite versatile – it may be eaten hot off the stove, at room temperature, or even cold, straight out of the refrigerator. This flexibility allows japchae to be consumed in a wide variety of settings: at picnics, potlucks, parties, and banquets. In Korean culture, japchae is often found at weddings, holiday events, dol (1st birthday parties), and hwangap (60th birthday parties). Perhaps, the ease of preparing this dish in bulk and rationing it out to the consumers allow for its use in feeding large crowds. In my personal experience with potluck parties, japchae has been present in nearly all gatherings that provided Korean food, essentially making it a “necessity” – the party would not be complete without it! Eating japchae prepared by so many different people proves to me the influence of societal and regional factors in food preparation. While the same foundational ingredients are used, there exist distinct tastes based on who has crafted this delicacy – certainly, differences arise between japchae made by an American and by a Korean, and even between Koreans, from various parts of the country!
As a result, it is essential to determine what historical and cultural meanings japchae holds. Quite interestingly, japchae’s literal translation when broken down to its individual characters is “mixed vegetables,” which does not mention noodles of any kind at all! The reasoning behind this dates back to the Joseon Dynasty, in which japchae was simply a stir-fried vegetable and mushroom dish. Although there was a major shift to Confucianism during the Joseon Dynasty, many individuals still held onto the lasting Buddhist ideals that existed during the Koryo Dynasty. As Buddhism strictly prohibited harming cattle, meat was not a common presence in meals. Furthermore, Buddhist traditions of maintaining a balance between color and taste resulted in ensuring that dishes contained five colors: black, yellow, white, red, and green. Japchae certainly maintains all five conditions: mushrooms for “black”, bell pepper for “yellow”, fried egg for “white”, carrots for “red”, and spinach for “green”. Once considered a luxurious dish in the royal court cuisine of the Joseon Dynasty, japchae’s popularity rose when dangmyeon spread globally. This dissemination inevitably led to the inclusion of beef and pork in the dish, as well as experimentations with other types of vegetables. Evidently, the societal values of the times influenced what norms were found in food and cooking preferences – lasting Buddhist ideals in the Joseon Dynasty, and a shift away from these principles in later decades. Cultures adapt to new ingredients so they may accommodate to shifting tastes and preferences. Societal beliefs determine what is acceptable and unacceptable, such as the prohibition of meat in earlier forms of this dish. While there may be one widely accepted recipe for japchae, individuals are free to adjust the preparation process to fit societal and personal standards. Perhaps, we are experiencing a societal shift right this moment! As many individuals are inside their homes because of COVID-19, they may be open to experimenting with other types of noodles or vegetables that stray away from the norm, as shopping opportunities may be limited. Certainly, now is a time when we must learn to adjust – we may need to use longer-lasting ingredients in order to reduce the number of times we leave our homes. However, this does not take away from the value of the dish – this new creation is a manifestation of the spirit of the times we are living through!
Oftentimes, when we consume food for its nutritional value, we tend to forget its cultural and societal significance. However, we must not forget such essences – each intricate detail that goes into the dish carries a historical trail behind it. Despite cultural barriers that may exist, one fact is certain: food connects us globally, no matter what origins we may have or groups we may identify with. Cooking this dish first-hand has revealed to me the importance of appreciating the traditions that have been passed down for generations. As I add pinches of sugar and drops of soy sauce, I realize that while someone may make the same dish as I do, it would certainly never be identical to my creation. Such differences in the way we prepare basic recipes available to us point to the fact that we are always modifying food to both our liking and what society suggests is “normal” and acceptable. Ultimately, sharing these creations with one another introduces us to an endless number of possibilities of how the dish can be prepared. Food is always changing based on how society’s cultural and traditional values influence accepted norms, and we must always be at the forefront of this frontier to accept these shifts in beliefs.
"An Ode to Korean Noodles"
By: Isaac Yoo
As seasons shift and temperatures change,
so do our palates and our passion for food.
A mystery as to what our hands can arrange,
many of them are based on our mood.
When the winds are chilly and the year is early,
a hot bowl of kalguksu or ramen should suffice.
For our bodies are cold and our vision is blurry,
this warmth must fill our minds with precise.
When flowers bloom and the year matures,
we settle for a combination of both degrees.
The comfort of japchae and bibimguksu provides cure,
and in peace does our mind go to ease.
When the sun shines and humidity rise,
refresh yourself with naengmyeon and kongguksu.
Let the cool broth serve as a disguise,
for its relief on the body holds true.
When the leaves fall and the sky turns orange,
seek homeostasis and neutrality once again.
Delicious memilguksu or jjolymyeon is not foreign,
for it takes away one’s struggles and pains.
Let the broth sizzle and the ladle stir,
the rich aroma spread and the taste buds tingle.
Only then may it occur,
a feeling of longing and linger.
So sit around the table,
prepare the utensils and appetite.
But follow these rules and be stable,
for disobedience results in plight.