In Korea, when a woman is able to peel a pear correctly with a knife (a fruit whose origins have long been the issue of contention between China and Korea – please just call it an Asian pear -_-) she is deemed ready for marriage. At least, that’s what my mom used to tell me. Since I am a half-Korean living in America, I thought it appropriate that
standard my own standard of a woman being ready to marry based on her
ability to boil a hotdog and pan fry a grilled cheese sandwich would be just as
Little did I know that after getting married, I’d be moving off to the far and foreign land some call ‘New Mexico’ where not a single Asian store exists for miles. Also, little did I know the depths in which the American school system has failed in the area of geography since a ton of people still have no clue that New Mexico is a part of the U.S. (I promise I’m not making that up!) No more 5 minute drives to my favorite Korean restaurants to get my soondubu on. Here, there was no place to get the soondubu on. And in wanting to be a fantastic wife to my Chinese husband whose parents own a delicious restaurant and are amazing cooks (no pressure!! <-- sarcasm) – I decided to dive into the world of Asian cooking.
It has definitely been an adventure where earlier in our marriage pre-teen-like tantrums from moi emanated from the kitchen rivaling that of a Justin Beiber fan who just found out that concert tickets sold out and her parents wouldn’t let her go anyways because the concert was on a school night. (TMI: oral contraceptives can only be partially blamed for the escalation of crazy emotions. I like to tell Sherwin that I ‘blacked out’ and don’t remember those times I was a bit *ahem* emotional back in the day…) My cooking adventures also included spending 8 hours on a soup that is most definitely not worth spending time cooking and more worth flying back to Atlanta and ordering someone else to cook it for me.