Cooking with 엄마/eomma/mom

Samuel Son

Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” —John 21:12

My mom taught me to cook kimcheejigae with spam
a fusion dish, out of necessity
as fusion dishes are wont to be
Salty pork fat complements
the peppery stew, but spam was cheaper
for our immigrant family
She transubstantiated what we could afford
to flesh and blood
so we wouldn’t be familiar with hunger

Mom worked two jobs
My youngest brother took out family photos
From an old shoe box believing
he could make her return earlier
if he could remember how she smiled

Late and tired, mom would still cook the jiggae
She could whip it up in minutes
When it rained it was sunshine
When it stormed it was anchor
The gleaming tofu went right down to your soul

She says, get the sourest kimchee from the fridge,
when I ask her for instructions when I try
to recreate her eucharist magic for my children
The more bitter the better,
then soak them in holy water because all water is holy
Mix in some onion tears that overwhelms you out of nowhere,
Because empathy does not require understanding
Sprinkle peppery stories of my mother before she was mother
Stories make the stew

My dish never came out the way I remembered it as a kid
Can you give me exact fractions?
But mom says,
that is not the purpose of cooking
making the same exact dish
Would you have Van Gogh paint the same scene exactly the same way?
I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh? I ask
If only he ate better, she says

Listen, when it simmers, the water begins to cheer
The amount of kimchee is the weight in your heart
And the amount of gochuchang?
When the water is as red as deep sunset, it’s enough
You don’t measure cooking
You listen
Listen to all the sacrifices that are the ingredients
Listen to all your ancestors who survived one shared meal at a time

Kimcheejigae – A spicy stew made from kimchee, pickled cabbages
Jjigae – Stew
gochuchang – A spicy paste made from Korean peppers

I read John 21 and I stop at the passage that says, “He made breakfast.” It is the tenderest moment in Scripture. After resurrection, it’s the one small (great), mundame (miraculous) act John tells us so we can remember for generations. Jesus did do a lot after resurrection—so much that the whole world could not hold all those pages says John—we just don’t have records of those stories. But John was so moved by seeing Jesus waiting for them at the shore, cooking breakfast over an open fire, that he takes time to tell this story. Jesus cooking breakfast. I see in it all the ways mom cooked for me. 

Cooking is a daily act full of deep connections and significance. Its significance is not as metaphor. Because all the spiritual meanings are inherent in the material parts and process of cooking; in cooking there is already a web of interdependence that connects us to land, people, and our ancestors. Recipes are living histories of how our ancestors resurrected dead things to life. 

Planning for worship—nourishing the people of God with the body of Christ—is cooking.