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muckefuckThursday night, I thought I'd stop in to check on my favourite Korean shopkeepers--boy howdy did I get more than I bargained for! It wasn't just Jay and Hera who were there that night, it was the whole bloody clan. Well, at least their two sons and Jay's parents. After Hera had brought an order of soba and mandoo to my usual table, Jay popped out from the kitchen and chatted with me a bit from behind the counter. It's completely bizarre to remember that I ever thought of him as dour and taciturn.
After I finished, I noticed the little family group dining in a quiet corner of the place and thought I'd pay my respects. Jay introduced me around, predictably overselling my knowledge of Korean and such to his darling parents. I thought I did a pretty deft job of dodging the usual questions about why I didn't have a wife until the precocious younger son innocently asked me, "Don't you have anybody you like?" "I do," I told him, "but we're not going to get married!"
I took an instant liking to the boy, who's been through English-language school in Indonesia and is now at a Montessori on the North Shore; we would've had a nice little conversation had it not dawned on me that this could be taken as slight to his grandfather, who had sufficient English for strained chatting and not much more. His wife, who seemed to have none, immediately made herself scarce.
Jay did, too, after asking me if I liked chonggakkimch'i. I should've known this meant he would return with a portion for me to take home, but I didn't expect that accompanying it would be not only a bottle of soju, but also julienned cucumber and slice lemon for flavouring it. He told his mother that I "knew" her home province of Chŏlla-do because I'd made mention of some local specialty the last time we talked food. This was her cue to bring me portions of a long, eel-like fish preserved with pepper--a dish Jay was surprisingly dismissive of, telling me if I didn't like it I could throw it out. I was simply relieved I didn't have to eat it then and there, as it definitely would've kept me up past midnight. (I ate it for lunch today along with the kimchi, some naengmyŏn and leftover chapch'ae; it was quite tasty except for all the annoying small bones.)
As I prepared to leave, I asked Jay's father how I should address him and he seemed taken aback at the suggestion I call him Shim sŏnsaengnim. I thought of suggesting Harabŏnim but didn't, and much later it occurred to me that he was closer in age to my father than my grandfather--perhaps even younger! I guess I'm still not used to thinking of myself as a middle-aged man when I meet new people.
It was thrilling to be surrounded by all that interest and attention, but afterwards I worried a bit about what new obligations I'd taken on. Jay just seems excited to have a connexion with someone at the university (he told me he bought the business he did in order to be in a "college town"), particularly someone who knows a thing or two about Korea. But now I'm wondering what would be a good reciprocation of his gifts of food and liquor. Wine? Chocolates? Books?
After I finished, I noticed the little family group dining in a quiet corner of the place and thought I'd pay my respects. Jay introduced me around, predictably overselling my knowledge of Korean and such to his darling parents. I thought I did a pretty deft job of dodging the usual questions about why I didn't have a wife until the precocious younger son innocently asked me, "Don't you have anybody you like?" "I do," I told him, "but we're not going to get married!"
I took an instant liking to the boy, who's been through English-language school in Indonesia and is now at a Montessori on the North Shore; we would've had a nice little conversation had it not dawned on me that this could be taken as slight to his grandfather, who had sufficient English for strained chatting and not much more. His wife, who seemed to have none, immediately made herself scarce.
Jay did, too, after asking me if I liked chonggakkimch'i. I should've known this meant he would return with a portion for me to take home, but I didn't expect that accompanying it would be not only a bottle of soju, but also julienned cucumber and slice lemon for flavouring it. He told his mother that I "knew" her home province of Chŏlla-do because I'd made mention of some local specialty the last time we talked food. This was her cue to bring me portions of a long, eel-like fish preserved with pepper--a dish Jay was surprisingly dismissive of, telling me if I didn't like it I could throw it out. I was simply relieved I didn't have to eat it then and there, as it definitely would've kept me up past midnight. (I ate it for lunch today along with the kimchi, some naengmyŏn and leftover chapch'ae; it was quite tasty except for all the annoying small bones.)
As I prepared to leave, I asked Jay's father how I should address him and he seemed taken aback at the suggestion I call him Shim sŏnsaengnim. I thought of suggesting Harabŏnim but didn't, and much later it occurred to me that he was closer in age to my father than my grandfather--perhaps even younger! I guess I'm still not used to thinking of myself as a middle-aged man when I meet new people.
It was thrilling to be surrounded by all that interest and attention, but afterwards I worried a bit about what new obligations I'd taken on. Jay just seems excited to have a connexion with someone at the university (he told me he bought the business he did in order to be in a "college town"), particularly someone who knows a thing or two about Korea. But now I'm wondering what would be a good reciprocation of his gifts of food and liquor. Wine? Chocolates? Books?
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