My Joyful Resistance is Rice Porridge for Breakfast

(originally published in Shondaland, 2023)

There is more than one way to speak a language. One way is the actual process of learning a whole new alphabet. For me, this wasn’t too difficult even at the age of 8 years old. What became more difficult than training my tongue to pronounce “r”, “th”, and “f” was the act of being American, which is another language in itself. 

In Korea, my umma made us rice for breakfast with an array of banchans (side dishes) along with soup- usually something light on the stomach like kongramuh-guk (bean sprouts soup) or miyuk-guk (seaweed soup). It was a sit-down meal. It was a slow meal that gave you energy for the day. I can still recall feeling the steam on my face as I scooped the hot rice onto my soup because that’s the way I loved eating my Korean soups.

When I needed extra comforting because I wasn’t feeling well or just wasn’t in a good mood, umma made juk which is Korean Rice Porridge where white rice is stirred with water or stock for a long time, similar to oatmeal.  Something so common as rice and water cured colds and any gloom I was feeling that morning. 

When I learned to speak English fluently with barely a hint of a Korean accent and even appropriately used English sounds like “uh huh” and “yea”, other unspoken languages of Korean left me without me knowing. Not only would I say, “Good morning!” to my parents, but how I got ready - what I ate for breakfast changed too. I remember begging my umma for cereal after experiencing it at school. A few times a week, my elementary school served breakfast for lunch.

My body and mouth rejected it, over and over, until I got used to it because I told myself this is how you become American. You speak the language, you eat what they eat for this is who you are now. 

The coldness of the milk shocked my throat and the ultra-sweetness of the cereal was confusing for it to be breakfast - what I associated it with nourishment and warmth.

After my taste buds submitted to the sugar, this is what I wanted to eat at home. My sister and I would walk up and down the cereal aisle in the grocery store where boxes and boxes of bright colors and cartoon characters we didn’t recognize stared at us. It felt like a toy store. What we were hoping for we found them - Fruit Loops, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Kix. They had them all. Cereal transformed the way my sister and I ate breakfast each morning. Umma still left us warm soup and rice before she and appa headed off to work at the crack of dawn, but my sister and I opted for cold sugary crunchy candy to start our day. A fast breakfast. The American way. 

People gravitate towards food to experience a culture. What is not discussed is how food is really a connection to one’s self. And for so long, I wanted to force this connection to my American identity. Back in the 90s, many of us didn’t have the privilege to even think, “What does it mean to be Asian and American.” Yes, to explore such thoughts was a privilege. But, at some point, we must stop and be honest with ourselves and ask, “Do I even like this?” I fell in love with the idea of being American by eating American, but honestly, I never really enjoyed it. 

What is a part of you will find its way back to you is what I believe. About 3 years ago, I woke up one morning craving a bowl of juk. Just plain white rice simmered in water with a drizzle of sesame oil and soy sauce. There are many kinds of juk in Korea, like dakjuk (Korean Chicken Porridge) which is healing when you are ill. 

Porridge is very popular in Korea as a light but hearty meal, often for breakfast, but can be eaten for any meal.  It is also a meal that is served when you are not feeling well and also for babies because of how easy it is to digest. This humble meal that highlights the rice grains is what I missed. The sound of my umma washing the rice over and over is what I missed. The toasted smell of rice grains as it’s being cooked over low heat is what I missed. The warmth of this healing food met with the nutty taste of sesame oil and a hint of salt from soy sauce are the flavors I knew. 

When I first made juk for myself a few years ago after not having it for years, I was deeply moved by its first bite. I thought about the shortage of rice in Korea when Japan entered World War II and this led them to ration heavily. Most of Korea’s land was supplied to grow rice for the Japanese, leaving very little for themselves. This is also when imports of other types of grains like millet and black beans likely came to be. White rice became even more sacred.

What I gave up eating for breakfast, what I was embarrassed of eating growing up was something my ancestors and my parents held as sacred, like gold. Trading juk for cereal was like trading gold for silver. I took for granted this luxurious gift and is the very reason why I sobbed in various rice scenes when I watched Pachinko. 

These days, I spend more of my mornings basking in the aroma of toasted rice and nutty sesame oil that reminds me of the earth, the grounds of Korea, and who I am as a Korean American. I may not make traditional dakjuk (Chicken Porridge) and prefer mine with just rice and water. If I am inspired, I add a fried egg, sprinkle some sesame seeds, and a splash of soy sauce with toasted gim (seaweed). I can make it my way because there is no wrong way to be Korean American. 

What my ancestors sacrificed, what my parents looked forward to every night after a long day of labor intensive work, is the thing that has been with us all along. The resilience of each rice grain is the fabric of our story and I never want the taste to leave my tongue.

Breakfast Juk Recipe: 

 1. Soak one cup of rice in water for one hour. 

2. After an hour, add sesame oil to lightly cover the bottom of a small pot, and add the soaked rice. 

3. Lightly stir fry the rice for a few minutes before adding the broth or water. 

4. Pour the broth/water and let it come to a boil. 

5. Let it simmer for about 25 minutes, stirring occasionally so that the rice does not stick to the bottom of the pot. 

6. At this point, once the liquid has reduced and the rice is the consistency of oatmeal, it is ready. If you want it more liquidy, feel free to add more broth. The texture is based on your preference. 

7. Pan fry one egg in sesame oil. 

8. Scoop the porridge onto a bowl, top it with the fried egg.

9. Drizzle sesame oil on top of the egg, a splash of soy sauce, crumble the gim (3 small squares of toasted seaweed) on top. I like to use non salted seaweed because I can really taste the flavors of the gim for this recipe, but salted is great too. 

10. Enjoy!