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JaeHee Kwak

Hometown: Seoul, South Korea

Sociology Major and East Asian Studies Minor

Jaehee Kwak is an undergraduate at Emory University, majoring in Sociology with a minor in East Asian Studies. Born in South Korea and raised in Taiwan, she is a proud third-culture kid. She loves Taiwanese cuisine and is constantly looking for good Taiwanese restaurants abroad. Her hobbies are running, trying new recipes, and petting other people’s dogs.

Reflection on Making

Miyeok-guk 미역국

When I was young, I always looked forward to each meal of the day. Mealtime was family time. I would excitedly ask my mother “What’s for lunch? What’s for dinner?” I would rush to the dining table and patiently wait for my younger sister to shuffle out of her bedroom, for my father to return home from work, and for my mother to set bowls and plates of various Korean side dishes on the table. I especially looked forward to meals on holidays and special occasions, when my mother would plan a special feast and I would play a little game in my head, guessing what it would be this time. Christmas, New Year, Mother’s Day, Chuseok, etc. Except for birthdays. Birthdays were the only days when I wouldn’t ask my mother what we’d be eating because for each year and for every person, it was the same: miyeok-guk. Just as it is common in America to eat cake and blow candles, it is customary for Koreans to eat miyeok-guk on one’s birthday. Miyeok-guk, a classic and simple meal eaten on birthdays, is not only nutritious but also steeped in ancient practices and the wisdom of our ancestors.

Miyeok-guk 미역국, directly translated as seaweed (미역) soup (국), is a traditional dish served in South Korea. Its main ingredients are brown seaweed, soy sauce, sesame oil, and some form of protein, either beef or seafood. Some people also garnish it with garlic, onions, scallions, or roasted sesame seeds. The protein from the seafood or beef, and the rich nutrients from brown seaweed, make miyeok-guk a very healthy and nutritious meal. I love the umami and briny flavor of the soup and the slippery, chewy texture of the seaweed. Miyeok-guk is traditionally eaten for breakfast on one’s birthday, but it can also be eaten as a regular meal outside of special occasions. The custom of eating miyeok-guk, however, began way back in ancient dynastic history, before slowly transitioning into a modern birthday meal.

Why is it customary for Koreans to eat miyeok-guk on their birthdays? This cultural tradition originated from childbirth rituals in which miyeok-guk is the first meal served to a mother who just delivered a baby, and it remains the main meal while she is in recovery. There are several reasons why miyeok-guk is a popular postpartum meal, and one is due to health. Seaweed has plenty of nutrients, but the abundant supply of iodine, calcium, and iron specifically helps the mother recover and replenish the huge amount of blood loss during childbirth. Seaweed also helps the mother produce breast milk, purify the blood, detoxify the body, and relieve constipation. There are also symbolic reasons, which surround the slippery texture of the seaweed. The slipperiness is associated with the process of pushing a baby out from the mother’s womb, as well as safely excreting the placenta and other substances. Thus, some pregnant mothers also eat miyeok-guk before birth in the hopes that it will bring a safe and healthy birth.

This custom of mothers eating miyeok-guk after childbirth is believed to have originated in the Goryeo Dynasty when whales were spotted eating seaweed after giving birth. This explanation hasn’t been scientifically proven, as it’s not easy to spot whales eating seaweed, but centuries of valuable experience by millions of Korean mothers have affirmed miyeok-guk as a post-partum elixir. Gradually, miyeok-guk has transitioned from childbirth customs to a representative food served on one’s birthday. Given the difficulties of pregnancy and high infant mortality rates, Koreans eat miyeok-guk to honor their mother and remember the hardships their mother had to overcome during pregnancy. In addition, the loved ones of the birthday girl or boy usually make miyeok-guk; people typically don’t make miyeok-guk for their own birthdays. Miyeok-guk served on such special occasions is thus imbued with significance, as compared to other foods served on a daily basis. This long-standing practice and the wisdom of our ancestors, who consumed miyeok-guk after giving birth, has become so accepted as a fact of life that it is taboo to fold seaweed in half or to bargain for its price. In the United States, a birthday doesn’t feel like a birthday if there is no cake or candles. Likewise, if Koreans are unable to eat miyeok-guk on their birthday, it means the event has not been properly celebrated.

This dish, although simple to make, is not just about sticking to the tradition, but also about showing appreciation. It’s a constant reminder to show gratitude for the sacrifices our mothers make, not only during childbirth, but in every year of our lives. Indeed, one dish a year does not suffice compared to a lifetime of love and care from our mothers. But nevertheless, I enjoyed making this dish with my mother’s help, not only because I could spend more time with her, but also because I could see all the preparation and effort my mother puts into making this dish each year. Even if I’m halfway across the world, my mother will remind me to eat miyeok-guk, or if I’m back home in Korea, my mother always remembers to make it for me on my birthday. And for that, I will always appreciate and love her.

"kong-guksu"

By: JaeHee Kwak

I think about where you came from
which soybean farm you grew in
If you were loved and cared for
by the people that brought you to me

I think about the sun that touched you
the winds that caressed you
the water that nourished you
that made you grow

I think about the soup you've become
and the flavors you arouse
The soybeans boiled and pureed until
they're as fine as white sand
The creamy soy milk with a nutty aroma
A hint of salt that kicks
the tip of my tongue
The smoothness of the milk
and the crunch of the ice

I think about those delicate wheat noodles
sinking in that crisp and icy soy milk
as I sit here, envious
while the sun beats down on my back
the sweat runs down my neck
in this sticky summer heat

As the solids of the bean powder
settle at bottom of that icy milk
I think of the effort
Time
Patience
Love
in this moment
between me and
my bowl of kong-guksu

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