To what extent would you go to feed your family? Would you brave the outdoors? Would you steal? Would you eat someone else’s trash?

The history of Korea is wrought with poverty and oppression. Always someone oppressing us, always someone invading. During my grandparents’ childhood, Korea was a trapped love, imprisoned by invaders, with the natural beauty and wealth stolen from those born of the land. During Japanese occupation, the majority of Koreans had no wealth and no food, having to resort to incredible means in order to feed their loved ones. Modern day Korea was built upon the backs of those who had to do the impossible to survive, where our bloodlines were preserved through the sweat and blood of those who came before us. One of the most iconic modern dishes in Korea is called 부대찌개, or Army Stew. When most foreigners hear the words Army Stew, they think of a nice stew popularized by the army, but the truth is, 부대찌개 is as hurtful and hard to consume for the elderly as it is easy for those of my generation. For my grandparents, 부대찌개 is a tale of survival, a shame for those who had to do anything and everything to stay alive. But to me, 부대찌개 is a tale of strength and beauty, a simple dish made on the backs of those who gave up everything to bring me to where I am today.

Something my grandparents ask me often is if I’ve eaten well today. They hound me over the details of my meals, question after question about whether I’ve eaten a balanced diet or if I’m eating enough. On busy days, when I only have enough time to boil some water and eat cup ramen, they fret over my health and tell me I have to eat well to be healthy. As a college student, 부대찌개 was my best friend. It takes maybe five minutes if I’m really rushing and maybe ten to fifteen if I really want to jazz things up. On days when I tell them I ate 부대찌개, there was always a moment of silence, then a push to eat better and eat healthy. Eventually, curious about why they struggled with the concept of 부대찌개, I asked what the history behind the name was, why Army stew?

The history of 부대찌개 begins in post WWII Korea, when Korea was a shell of its former self, left in ruins by the fleeing occupiers. Most Koreans had nothing: no food, no water, no jobs. Therefore, food was scarce, and many resorted to stealing and begging. On the other hand, the American military bases had everything. At the bases, there was so much that food was a surplus, and unwanted bits and pieces were just thrown out. So the Koreans dug through the trash, finding all the unwanted bits and pieces of vegetables and processed meat, grasping at this lifeline found in the garbage. A little bit of spam here, a hotdog end or two there, maybe even the ends of carrots and onions. Place all of these into a pot, cover with water, kimchi, and a large amount of chili powder (to cover the taste of trash), and you have 부대찌개, an American Korean fusion dish, the first of its kind. As rice was expensive, maybe have a few packs of instant ramen tossed into the mix, bulking up the meal with carbs. Multiple families would gather around and add what they found, bringing together a community bound by its common hardships.

Now, 부대찌개 is definitely not good for you. High in sodium, carbs, preservatives, purely junk food. 부대찌개 is definitely not recommended if you’re on a diet or if you have health concerns. However, there’s a certain charm to the dish. The cooking process is relatively simple, the ingredient list variable, the taste nostalgic. There really is no right way to make 부대찌개. Take whatever you have in the fridge, put it into a pot, add some spam, some chili powder, and some kimchi, there you go. It’s as simple to make as it is bad for you to consume. But health is not something to be considered when eating 부대찌개. Eating 부대찌개 is about the sense of community and the respect for the hardships of our elders. A dish that drowns out our trauma in spice and salt, where you feel the bonds it forged down to your bones. A dish literally symbolizing the phrase, one man’s trash, another man’s treasure.

As Korea grew in both power and status, this dish grew with it. Got a little more money? Add a real onion, maybe some tofu, maybe some mushrooms. Even more money? Buy your own can of spam, or even a hotdog or two. Add some chili paste, some salt, some sugar. Every single ingredient, the sweat off my grandparents’ back, the blood from their fingers. Every single ingredient, a triumph for them and their kids. Every single ingredient, a reminder of the shame they felt, feeding their children with someone else’s trash. Even today, my grandparents, who hammered the mantra of waste no food, want no food, turn their noses at 부대찌개. They struggle to understand the “new kids fad” and interest in this dish, quietly questioning the remembrance of their shame.

For my parents’ generation, 부대찌개 became a cheap dish, easy to drink to. A slight hint of shame mixed in with the heat from the peppers, washed away with the bitterness of the soju. After work, people would gather around the stalls on the streets, drinking away their worries and hardships, often around a large pot of 부대찌개. As the generations continued to grow, the shame of survival dissipated, becoming more intertwined with drinking culture and easy meals. Bittersweetly, the history behind the dish was forgotten, and an appreciation of the sense of community found around the table was found.

The simplicity behind this dish belies the history it holds. Until I reached college, I really didn’t understand the depth of meaning hiding amidst the broth, the strength of my grandparents, a struggle I never had to endure. But upon reflection, the random mashup of ingredients suddenly became a storyline I never forgot. The meat, filled with preservatives, an odd ingredient in a cuisine that prides itself on natural fermentation. The ramen noodles, an otherwise frowned upon food, filled with simple starches and msg. Both symbols of the fortitude of my forefathers, something to be respected and revered. For my generation, 부대찌개 became a dish filled with happiness and joy. Friends around the table, coming together for a good meal. 부대찌개 is a dish filled with history, a history I am proud of. 부대찌개 is a tale of strength and beauty, symbolizing the convictions of my grandparents and the spirit of what it means to be Korean.

So the next time you pick up your kitchenware and decide to venture into Korean food, or you have a bunch of friends coming over for drinks and you want to make something hearty, open a can of spam and boil some kimchi. Bond together like my people did, and find strength in the simplicity of 부대찌개.