4/28/2023
I didn’t find much time to keep a daily log here this week, but that just means I was too busy doing my ILC to find the time! I’ve spent this past week reading and cooking, cooking and reading, writing, and more reading. I’ve been devouring The Milk of Almonds with the same fervor in which I read Tastes Like War by Grace M. Cho–an absolutely stunning memoir I read last quarter about a mother’s life before and after schizophrenia wrapped up in important discourse surrounding food and survival. I feel a connection with both books in a similar way; they both unearth stories from their respective diaspora groups–both of which I belong to–and give insight to my own histories that I’ve never before been able to glimpse.
This weekend I’ll be writing my craft paper for The Milk of Almonds, and I’m excited to jump in. I’m meeting with Catalina Ocampo over zoom today to discuss my creative writing, so I’m hoping it will also serve as good groundwork for the craft paper.
Saturday, April 27, saw me cooking up some soup for myself and my roommate. They caught COVID was spending the weekend quarantined in their bedroom. You can’t always do much for someone when they’re sick, but I found I can at least cook for them. I decided to make kimchi soup (not to be confused with kimchi jjigae) using my own broth. I didn’t have a recipe for either and was scrounging around my cupboards for ingredients to use, having been too broke to buy groceries for the last couple of weeks. I remembered my dad telling me to eat kimchi when I’m sick since it’s good for your heart and clears your sinuses (in his words), so kimchi soup was what first popped into my head.
I gave Dad a call while I was in the early stages of cooking, roughly chopping the cloves of garlic and slicing the yellow onion. I like to call my parents when I’m cooking every now and then, putting the phone on speaker so I can move freely around and use both my hands. I told him what I was up to, and how I was a little stumped on how to go about the broth since I didn’t have any and didn’t have any money to go out and buy some.
“Well, do you got any beef?” He questioned.
I looked down at the tiny ribeye steak I had bought for cheap from Winco weeks ago, just thawed from my freezer. “Yeah,” I answered him, “But it’s like a really small steak I got from Winco.”
“Well there you go. Just slice it thinly and add it in close to when the broth is done.”
“Okay, thanks Dad!”
“No problem.”
My dad is of the opinion his children don’t need him anymore, but I’d strongly argue he’s wrong. Sure, I don’t need him in the way that I needed him when I was a little kid, but who else am I gonna call to tell me how to make broth? He may think otherwise, but I won’t ever grow out of needing his and mom’s advice.
Leave a Reply