Roots and Recipes Draft

No matter what year it is, the 4^th of July was always exciting and fun when you were with my family. I remember one year where my cousin Noah and I took some smoke bombs and rolled them under police cars. The bright smoke slowly seeped out of the small, colorful sphere; the air thick and filled with laughter.  Both of us cackling, we ran back to my uncle’s house; the smell of my father’s kal bi was wafting through the air. We looked at each other with delight as we raced to the kitchen, letting nothing stand in our way.

“Whatcha making, Daddy?” I asked.

“Kal bi. But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret!” he tittered.

            We nodded yes and giggled as we headed back to the living room. All of my cousins were staring blankly at the television with no idea of what was to come.  Noah turned toward me and we both nodded knowingly. The best part of the night was almost here.

            Ever since I was a little girl, I can remember sitting on the couch and watching television on the night of Independence Day. It was the exact same thing every year. The strong aroma of ginger and green onions would make its’ way toward me, luring me into the kitchen.  For the duration of the afternoon, I heard the sound of chopping knives and sizzling pots. When the major components of this main course were ready, my parents would pack them into the car and drive over to my uncle’s house. I’d greet my cousins in a warm and friendly manner, ecstatic to see them again.

            While the adults unpacked the car and set up in the kitchen, my cousins and I would play with the sparklers and fireworks, lighting up the dark night sky with vibrant explosions. Walking back to the house for a snack, I would sometimes peek into the kitchen where my uncle Mike was helping my dad out. Laughing gleefully, I would watch as they cut green onions with accuracy. As if they were dancing around the kitchen, they took each pan of marinated meat and sauce and placed them in the oven.

            Excitedly, I burst out the door to where all the other kids were. “My Daddy’s almost done with the kal bi!” I’d exclaim. Each of my cousins turned to each other with a thrilled gleam in their eyes as I’d lead the way back to the house. Marching into the house, we’d all find a place on the huge couch my uncle owned and wait intently for the satisfactory “ding” of the oven.  Too focused on the television, the ding went unheard. Sighs of happiness were faintly heard from the kitchen. The padding of feet gradually got louder; smiles lit up the room as the foot was brought to the table.

My Dad’s recipe:

-       kal bi sauce (the components of this are a secret, sorry L)

-       fresh green onions/scallions

-       fresh ginger

-       garlic

-       sesame seeds

-       sesame oil

-       meat