한국 사람이 되어거는 것 같아요

It seems like I am becoming a Korean.

Yesterday I bent over the table at school, arranging papers. My hair hung in my face. I noticed a black hair and brushed my hand at it, figuring it was one of Good Man’s hairs.

No.

It was my hair.

I had a long, long black hair. Growing out of my head.

I’ve never had black hair growing out of my head.

And today…

Sliced

Water

Stirring

Rinsing

Thinking

Smelling
A whiff of fish sauce.

Making

Mixing

Laughing

Orange

Preparing

Finished!

Good Man wanted 깍두기 (daikon kimchi). He asked me if I could make it, and even found a video for me, but he was worried I couldn’t make it.

I’ve cooked Korean food for him before, so I couldn’t figure out what his issue was. Turns out he was worried that I would mind that there’s fish sauce in it. I know there is, and I ate it that way in Korea.

Making the daikon kimchi was fine until nearly the last step.

In Korea, thin plastic kitchen gloves are very common. I never put anything on my hands while I cook.

But when I stuck my hands in the mixture… Well, it felt like something I’d never, ever want to put in my mouth. It felt disgusting, and I told Good Man so in colorful terms.

Good Man said, “In Korea we have a saying, 한국음식의 비결은 손맛에 있어요. It’s the hands that make the food taste good.

And a few minutes later, when I saw my orange fingers and even oranger fingernails, I realized that I actually needed kitchen gloves.

The kimchi is now in a glass Lock&Lock container on our porch, fermenting or rotting or singing and dancing or whatever it is kimchi does on a porch.