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1 January, 1970

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Photographer: @peyluvrain
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⤵︎
Photographer: @peyluvrain
.
Congratulations!
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───────── ✧ ─────────
.
Follow us ➝ @tv_stilllife
Tag ➝ #tv_stilllife
.
Selected by: @nnkrb
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───────── ✧ ─────────
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Other hubs you might like:
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308 2 1 hour ago

Flicking through my journals this morning:

I never realised the power that food wields in a culture until I lived in Korea. Up until that point, I had grown up on tuna casseroles, devon or mortadella sandwiches slathered with tomato sauce, vegemite or crumbly cheese sandwiches (always), spaghetti bolognese, or fish and chips. Whatever was simple and easy for mum to regimentally organise for six children. My childhood seems to have been scarred by the potent, pungent scent of fermenting cabbage, an offering made by my mum and dad’s Korean friends, who would present us with the weird dish, along with yellow pickles and warm bowls of rice. For a five-year-old who had screamed and hollered that she didn't want to learn Korean, and didn’t want to play the piano, I was the Korean who didn’t want to be Korean, who looked Korean, but didn’t feel it, who had an Anglo Saxon name and only wanted to look and be like her white friends. ⁣

It wasn’t until my early twenties when I made the move to South Korea did the importance of food harness me to the country that I had lost as a result of my adoption. Whilst a baby is in their mother’s womb, they acquire the palate of foods that the mother ingests. The cognitive and psychological boundaries and walls that I had erected in my childhood surrounding anything Korean and ‘Asian’ were not powerful enough against the full immersion into my birth culture. Food was the first thing that I ravenously latched onto, enamoured by all the sesame-oil infused smells, surely scents and tastes that had swum around me in the amniotic fluid as I grew in my mother’s womb. The olfactory, gestating, and only remaining dormant in the phantom limb of grief and loss. And so I ate bimbimbap and samgyupsal and samgyetang and bulgogi and pajeon and drank makkeoli and soju and plum wine and ate soondubu jjigae and kimchi jjigae and kimbap...Food to fill a loss. ⁣

Can you know a place through food? A place that you had not known until you were twenty-five? I think you can.

Flicking through my journals this morning:

I never realised the power that food wields in a culture until I lived in Korea. Up until that point, I had grown up on tuna casseroles, devon or mortadella sandwiches slathered with tomato sauce, vegemite or crumbly cheese sandwiches (always), spaghetti bolognese, or fish and chips. Whatever was simple and easy for mum to regimentally organise for six children. My childhood seems to have been scarred by the potent, pungent scent of fermenting cabbage, an offering made by my mum and dad’s Korean friends, who would present us with the weird dish, along with yellow pickles and warm bowls of rice. For a five-year-old who had screamed and hollered that she didn't want to learn Korean, and didn’t want to play the piano, I was the Korean who didn’t want to be Korean, who looked Korean, but didn’t feel it, who had an Anglo Saxon name and only wanted to look and be like her white friends. ⁣
⁣
It wasn’t until my early twenties when I made the move to South Korea did the importance of food harness me to the country that I had lost as a result of my adoption. Whilst a baby is in their mother’s womb, they acquire the palate of foods that the mother ingests. The cognitive and psychological boundaries and walls that I had erected in my childhood surrounding anything Korean and ‘Asian’ were not powerful enough against the full immersion into my birth culture. Food was the first thing that I ravenously latched onto, enamoured by all the sesame-oil infused smells, surely scents and tastes that had swum around me in the amniotic fluid as I grew in my mother’s womb. The olfactory, gestating, and only remaining dormant in the phantom limb of grief and loss. And so I ate bimbimbap and samgyupsal and samgyetang and bulgogi and pajeon and drank makkeoli and soju and plum wine and ate soondubu jjigae and kimchi jjigae and kimbap...Food to fill a loss. ⁣
⁣
Can you know a place through food? A place that you had not known until you were twenty-five? I think you can.
1,879 32 7 hours ago