Samcheonggak
Seoul, Korea
The South Korean sun glittered through the trees, past the windshield, and absorbed into my sunglasses. It was a winter day in February but the sky was blue, the sun was out, and I felt much better than I thought I would on my thirty-third birthday. The centurion pine trees on the grounds of the Samcheonggak historic complex in Seoul stood in contrast to the surrounding skyscrapers of the city. I sat in the back seat next to my boyfriend, while my brother, Nick, sat in the middle seat. Nick’s mom sat in the passenger seat while his dad drove. Nick is not my brother by blood, but he is no less a part of my family. He came to live with my family in middle school as an exchange student. My little brother by blood asked if he could sleep over, and then he didn’t leave until he graduated high school.
We passed the prime minister’s house before turning into the Samcheong Tunnel and then pulled into the parking lot. A permanent sign pointed toward the restaurant while multiple temporary signs directed guests to various birthday parties, weddings, and a conference. These signs had to be translated for me since I only speak English. We walked the path to the restaurant in our winter coats under a cloudless sky. The traditional Korean restaurant was just around the corner, looking elegant and classy.
Samcheonggak was built in the ’70s as a venue to host Red Cross representatives from North and South Korea. It began as a wish for the unification of the Koreas and of the world. After being bought and sold several times, it became a traditional and cultural attraction, though it is not as famous as it deserves to be. It surely offers South Korea’s most beautiful grounds. Nick’s dad used to entertain international and political guests at this very restaurant. We are here to celebrate my birthday. Nick translates that his dad chose this location, which is fit for royalty, because I am a princess. He gives me too much credit. He doesn’t know me that well. I am just riding my parents’ coattails.
The restaurant was quiet. We heard only the sounds of hushed voices and teacups being set down into their saucers. A hostess took our coats. The server showed us to our table and promptly began setting out little traditional Korean side dishes of radish, kimchi, and the like. Kimchi was my nickname growing up, and it has stuck this far into adulthood. I love cultures that love to eat; I have a hard time relating to people who eat just to stay alive and not for pleasure. A piping-hot short rib soup was served first. I lingered with my head over the bowl for a few seconds, allowing the steam to give me a quick facial. We were in for at least five more courses. Next came an abalone porridge, which is known in Korea as the “King of Porridges.” I savored the creamy rice porridge between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. The greenish hue of the abalone organs gave nourishment to my body and spirit and made me thankful to be this lucky and alive. We ate seasonal stir-fried vegetables and julienned beef next. Fried fish was followed by napa wraps with stir-fried pork and myeongi leaves. Nick's mom had picked up a strawberry cake for dessert as well as a platter of yakgwa, my favorite Korean cookies.
We sang Happy Birthday as the waiter poured and distributed champagne. I felt nervous when Nick’s dad asked for speeches. I knew I could never express my level of gratitude for turning this weekend into more than I knew was possible: temples, home-cooked meals, museums, markets, and restaurants. But I had to try. Nick and I may not be related, but each set of our biological parents is an extension of our families. I felt like an honorary Korean. Americans lack a national identity, so I was happy to have some culture by association. During my speech, I told the table how my parents had decided to host more exchange students because they loved Nick so much. Everyone else made remarks, and I don’t think there was a dry eye at the table. But I couldn’t say for certain because of the mist in my eyes. At the end, we lifted our glasses in a toast to family.
Samcheonggak was originally published in the September 2020 Food Issue of Selthcouth Station Press.
