Ever since I can remember, kim, a Korean prepared seaweed,
has been present at every one of my family events. At Easter, Christmas, and even
Thanksgiving, the all-American holiday, I have been able to spot the kim amidst
the heaping piles of food. During Easter, I can spot it surrounded by
multicolored eggs, and during Thanksgiving, it sits between the turkey and the
mashed potatoes, glistening with sesame oil and glittered with salt. As
children, when the adults weren’t looking, my cousins and I would sneak a piece
of kim, overwhelmed by all-consuming hunger. We would stuff the kim in our
mouths, and lick the evidence off our hands before any of our parents could
turn around. Part of being a Laney, a truly unique family, means we can all
come together around kim, at any celebration. I’m not Korean, or even Asian at
all, and I don’t have any Korean ancestry, at least as far as my grandparents,
whom I call Geedaddy and Geemama, are concerned, but kim is more than just a
Korean delicacy, a Korean side dish, or a healthy diet. It tells the Laney
history, defines us as a family, and brings us all together, making every
family gathering special.
Kim has somewhat of a fishy flavor. Like anything that comes
from the sea, it holds onto that distinct ocean-water taste. To somewhat mask the
hint of fish, the kim is brushed with sesame oil. The sesame oil can make or
break the overall flavor of the kim. Too much, and it’s overwhelming, but too
little, and it tastes too much like fish. It’s got to be just the right amount
to disguise the fishy flavor but still allow your tastes buds to reminisce
after you swallow. Kim is flaky, falls apart easily in your mouth, and it gets
all over your hands, leaving a residue of sesame oil and salt on your fingers.
On top of that, it’s salty and must have high sodium levels because in my
family, we douse it in salt. Above all, kim is delicious and easy to eat in
large quantities. Like my grandparents say, “it makes a good dish. [They’ve]
seen [us] all just pop it into [our] mouth[s] and eat it like, like… potato
chips” (Berta and James Laney). It tastes even better with rice, warm rice to
be exact because when the rice is warm, it allows the kim to melt around it,
creating a sticky coating of salty crunch around a hot cylinder of rice. My favorite
part of eating kim is the way it breaks so easily in your hands and crumbles in
your mouth. Even the act of picking up one sheet of kim can cause a cascade of
flakes to fall to the ground. One bite, and the evidence is speckled all across
your lips.
To be honest, I can’t remember the first time I ever had
kim. It had to have been some time when I was really little, but I have no
recollection of the exact date. I do remember, however, telling my older sister
Paige how much I hated it. The idea of eating dried seaweed disgusted me, and
the fishy taste made me gag. We were at dinner in the dining room, and my mom
offered me some kim. Ew no, I don’t want
that I told her. The reaction from my sister was immediate. You don’t like kim, Micah? How can you not
like kim? Paige inquired, stuffing some of her own kim in her mouth. You can’t be in this family if you don’t
like kim. We all like kim, Micah, she said, matter-of-factly, rolling a new
piece of kim around some hot rice. My mom offered me some again, this time with
rice, insisting me to eat it as if she had to see if I was joking. I stuck up
my nose, but I opened my mouth grudgingly and swallowed a bite, holding my
breath the whole time because I didn’t want to actually taste the fishy flavor of the kim. On the other hand, however, I
had to prove to my older sister that I was brave, too, and I was just as much apart
of this family as Paige. I tried not to gag as I swallowed the thickly
congealed rice covered in the sticky kim. After I swallowed, I gave my sister a
triumphant smirk to which she just shrugged and continued to gulp down her own
kim. As years went on, the faking turned real, and now, like the rest of my
family, I can consume a whole pack of kim in one sitting. I’m just as addicted to
kim as the next Laney.
My family was first introduced to kim in 1959, when my
Geemama and Geedaddy worked as missionaries in South Korea. They knew they
wanted to go to Korea because my Geedaddy had been stationed there when he was
in the Army Counter-Intelligence Corps in 1947, but first they had to learn
Korean. Their tutor, a lady named Ms. Un taught my grandparents Korean for six months
before they set out to live in Seoul. That is where they had their first taste
of kim. When I asked my Geemama about her first experience, she told me
that”[they] loved it; [they] liked it from the start” (Berta Laney), and she
went on to explain how kim easily became part of their daily diet, especially
in Korea. Six months later, my grandparents were on their way to Seoul, Korea;
they had three kids with one on the way, knew barely any Korean, but they were
ready. During the five years they lived in Korea, my grandparents ate a lot
kim. My Geedaddy explained that, “out there [they] had [kim] at home because
[they] had a lot of Korean food” (James Laney). They learned to envelop the
Korean culture and blend it with their own customs, embracing Korean food and
the Korean lifestyle. Not only did my grandparents like kim, but their children
did, too. When they arrived in Korea, they only had three young children, but
two more, my mom included, were born in Seoul. As the mother of five, it was
not easy finding something to please all her kids, but luckily, there was kim.
When I asked my grandmother about their favorite way to eat kim, she told me
“[they] added a bit of salt [because] the salt helped it” (Berta Laney).
Otherwise, the kim lacked flavor and was not as popular amongst the kids.
Kim was not something they could find in a restaurant, so it
was a specialty they shared in their home. My Geedaddy explained that “if you
go to a restaurant you don’t get kim [because i]t’s very expensive. You can eat
a lot of kim, and that’s many dollars worth of kim” (James Laney), so they had
to prepare it at home. Even in the United States, kim is hard to find in a
Korean restaurant. When I was younger, after I finally began to appreciate kim,
I would scan the menus of the Korean restaurants, looking for kim, but I could
never find it. Since I was a picky eater, and I thought I kim was the only
edible Korean food, my fruitless searching generally resulted in both a tantrum
and a grumbling stomach. Although the tantrums have ceased, and I have learned
to appreciate the other Korean dishes, I have never been served kim, not as a
side dish nor as an appetizer, at a restaurant. The only time I am only able to
experience kim is at my grandparents house or my own house, which makes it all
the more special.
In 1964, my grandparents moved back to the United States,
but they kept some parts of the Korean culture with them. Along with bringing
home Korean paintings and pots, they continued to feed their children and,
eventually, their grandchildren Korean food, particularly kim. As a result, kim
became the food the defined my family. My friends started to expect kim and
rice when they came over for dinner, and even now, after long periods of time
away from each other, they tell me how much they miss me, my family, and kim.
To my family, and they ones who are close to us, kim means, and has always
meant, something more than just dried, pressed seaweed. It’s a symbol of our
family, and the staple that brings us together in any family gathering. When my
grandfather was appointed ambassador of South Korea in 1993, my Geedaddy and
Geemama returned to Korea once more. This time, however, they invited all their
children, in-laws, and grandchildren to visit them. Although I was only two at
the time and don’t remember the trip, I feel closer to Korean culture knowing
that I have been to the country that sparked the tradition of kim in my family.
My sister Paige, however, remembers the trip vividly because it fell around the
time of her fourth birthday, and, naturally, alongside her request for
meatloaf, Paige wanted a heaping pile of kim, too. Paige was American through
and through, but at the age of four, she had embodied the Laney tradition of
eating kim with any and every type of food.
Once more, this time in 1997, my grandparents returned back
to the United States and continued to fill our bellies with my grandmothers
freshly prepared kim. My Geedaddy told me that, originally, “[people would] dry
it and then they press it and then they cut it in sheets. The way that Koreans
use[d] it, mostly, [was] to put sesame oil on it and salt and then very, very
lightly put it under the broiler just to crisp it, so it becomes crisp” (James
Laney). Toasting the seaweed is essential to the flavor. Tsuji states,
“toasting [the seaweed] improves flavor and texture, and brings out fragrance.
Untoasted [seaweed] is tough and tasteless” (80). When toasting, however, you
must be careful because according to my Geemama, you “can’t leave it [under the
broiler for too long] because it’ll shrivel up” (Berta Laney). Whenever she
made it, she’d have to be cautious not leave it under for too long. Now, kim is
sold in packages in farmers markets, but before the farmer’s market, my Geemama
would make it in her home. Her and my Geedaddy’s friends from Korea would send
them sheets of kim, and my Geemama would make it tasty enough to eat because,
like my Geemama said, “[kim] doesn’t come naturally [salted and oiled]. You
have to put the oil and the salt [on it]” (Berta Laney). My Geemama learned to
prepare kim from her cooks in Korea. They would make kim for the family, and
they liked it so much that my Geemama learned how to fix the kim with the right
amount of sesame oil and salt. Like my Geedaddy says with a smile, “no one
knows how to make it like your Geemama” (James Laney), and I couldn’t agree
more.
The word kim is a
Korean term that refers to dried seaweed that has been prepared. Other Asian
cultures have different names for prepared seaweed, such as nori in Japan or
haidai in China, and, despite the different names, seaweed has been an
essential component in the Japanese, Korean, and Chinese diets. However,
Koreans, Japanese, and Chinese enjoy their seaweed in different ways. My
Geedaddy “[doesn’t] think the Japanese use [seaweed] by itself [and] just put
it out on a plate [to] just take it and use it” (James Laney). Instead, the
Japanese typically use sheets of nori to wrap around sushi, to make rice balls
(Tsuji 80), or, according to my Geedaddy, “sometimes they cut up little strips
of it and put kim like a garnish on top” (James Laney). This preparation and
eating distinction between each country defines their cultures and helps define
my values as a Laney. I have learned to eat kim the way Koreans eat kim, and
even though I am not from Korea, I share this custom with my family because
through my experiences with Korea, part of the Korean culture has become part
of my own.
The dish itself is very simple but so scarcely recognized. Researching
kim resulted in little to no information in even the most thorough sources. Finally,
after some extensive research and word manipulation, I found it under the name
“nori” or “laver”. According to the
Oxford English Dictionary, nori is “a Japanese edible seaweed of the genus Porphyra, eaten
either dried and stuck together in small sheets, or fresh” (OED), and according
to the book Japanese Cooking: A Simple
Art by Shizuo Tsuji, the term ‘laver’ is an English term coming from “the
Latin word for water plant” (79). Both of these sources refer to this special
food as something from Japan or a Latin root, but they make no reference to the
Korean term kim. Instead, they create generalizations about dried seaweed, generating
the idea that it is only eaten in Japan. Even in the book Korean Cuisine by Michael Pettid, dried seaweed is referred to as
“laver” instead of kim. Pettid briefly describes kim, or laver, as “a type of
seaweed” (45) that tastes good when coating both sides with sesame oil,
“creating a popular and nutritious side dish” (45). He uses this description under
a section listing the uses of sesame oil in Korean cuisine, which falsely
suggests that kim is just a supplement to sesame oil and downplays the delight
of eating kim itself.
Although my family consists of sixteen
grandchildren, five aunts, five uncles, and two grandparents and is spread out
across the nation, we make an effort to stay together and connected through
anything. Most of my friends or people I know can’t name all their cousins or
don’t remember that last time they saw them makes me realize that my family is unique in the sense
that we are always there for each other, whether we’re in Paris or Senegal,
Memphis or Atlanta. Kim is symbolic of our unity. It is at the core of
every holiday, celebration, or family gathering, and not only does it symbolize
my grandparent’s past and the future of our family, it connects us all. I know
I speak for my entire family when I say that no matter when or where I eat kim,
it will always remind me of my grandparents, laughter, and the joy I can only
feel from being with my family. Some may think it’s just a Korean dish or too
obscure to mention in the dictionary, but to my family, kim brings us back from
our busy lives and reminds us of the importance of our family and the love shared
between every Laney.
Recipe:
Kim (dried seaweed)
As much salt or sesame oil as you want
Works Cited:
Cheung,
Sidney C.H., and Tan Chee-Beng, eds. Food and Foodways in Asia. London: Routledge, 2007. Print.
Guiry, Michael.
"Seaweed.ie :: Seaweed as Human Food." The Seaweed Site. N.p.,
n.d. Web. 19 Apr. 2012.
<http://www.seaweed.ie/uses_general/
“Nori.”
The Oxford English Dictionary. Web. 19 Apr. 2012.
Pettid,
Michael J.. Korean Cuisine: An Illustrated History. London:
Reaktion Books, 2008. Print.
Tsuji,
Shizuo, and Mary Sutherland. Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art. Rev. ed.
Tokyo: Kodansha International Ltd.,
2006. Print.
