Occasionally, Uhma just put out a plate of kim squares. We took the kim and wrapped it around the rice with our chopsticks [chohk-gahl]: Insta-kimbop. And then we would eat this with other sides [pahn-chahn]. For pahn-chahn today, I gave the kids baby carrots and heated up some frozen chicken… not exactly Korean fare, but at least it’s well-balanced. (G loves this meal too. He actually makes the kids his own version of kimbop, rolling strips of teriyaki chicken with julienne cucumbers or carrots in our bamboo rolling mat. And I love him for making it. My mom would have been amused, and impressed too.)

Today, the twins couldn’t get enough of the kim. They asked for more and more and I smiled to myself because I remembered feeling the same way… in fact, I still do. Uhma would tell me to slow down, to eat the kim with some rice—“It’s too salty!”—and to eat some of the pahn-chahn too. I passed along the same words of advice and motherly dictatorship to the twins and felt quite content when they listened to me and did as I suggested (dictated). I could hear Uhma’s voice in my head as I repeated her words to them.

After lunch, I gave them some Korean sweets called Botan Rice Candy. I used to beg my mom for these when she dragged us to our local Korean grocery store. They have their own sweet taste; the closest thing I can compare them to is a cross between gummy bears and jujubees (the candy, not the Korean dates also known as jujubees, ironically enough) but they are a little softer and chewier. They also have an odd edible wrapper which does not seem edible at all until you pop it in your mouth and it immediately disintegrates. Buddy had a little trouble accepting this. He tried to pull the edible wrapper out of his mouth but only managed to retrieve a couple of strands before it completely dissolved. The Bean, of course, immediately grabbed the whole thing from my hand and shoved it in her mouth before I could change my mind.

The Botan Rice Candy used to come with a little toy in its own compartment (Cracker Jacks for Koreans). These days though, they come with tattoos or stickers; thus, the eagle on Bean’s Popeye arm.

Tomorrow is Uhma’s birthday. It was nice to be able to think of her and “pass on” this simple meal (my own version of it anyway). Although the kids have had kimbop many times before, today I really understood the preciousness of sharing my own childhood experiences with them, however simple. The difficult part is not being able to have my mother here to guide me, flesh out my memories in more detail, share with me other recipes from my childhood. Still, I sat down and ate lunch with them and smiled as I watched them devour it, seeing myself in them. Unfortunately we can’t visit Uhma’s grave tomorrow (since it’s a four hour car ride), but I know she appreciates us eating this simple meal and thinking of her too. For Koreans, it’s all about the food anyway.