Update General : Notes from Oaxaca
What's been happening for the last month and a homecoming pasta recipe
I have a backlog of posts and I apologize for the unpredictable schedule. It’s probably not a sufficient excuse but it is an honest one. I just haven’t wanted to satellite bits of myself for the sake of “content”, a term I’m finding increasingly difficult and creatively numbing.
That being said, I have been writing almost every day. When I’m away from LA I set a goal of 1000 words a day and really I only meet that goal about 50% of the time but the goal is always helpful. I’ll be posting at an increased rate the next couple weeks to make up for lost time!
Here’s a quick update on the last month followed by a pasta recipe from my first day home:
For about a month I’ve been in Mexico City and Oaxaca. When people ask me what I’ve been doing there, more and more I find myself answering, “living”, which is the truth. But more specifically I was in Oaxaca to continue an ever evolving project on Korean diaspora in Mexico with the support of Gyopo and the Mellon Foundation.
More on this project soon – I’m just at the beginning of so many chapters to come on this project that it’s hard to write about it concisely. It’s work that will take years and many hands. It’s work that already has five years of sculpting and honing and gathering material behind it. It’s a privilege to be supported by the Gyopo community, and especially Ellie Lee who has fostered the project from early stages.
As a part of this project, I’ll be archiving stories, filming, and having conversations with a diverse spectrum of Koreans in Mexico, focusing on Oaxaca, Mérida, and Mexico City. For each “chapter” of the project, I’ll be working with Korean and Mexican artists to accumulate a multimedia archive of an underrepresented but substantial Korean community.
I want to ask why we end up in the places we do, why we leave the places we come from, and how we define home and community. Inherent in all these questions woven together, I think I’m also asking, what makes us Korean? As generations multiply and grow further away from their geographical cultural origin, what’s the glue that holds culture together. My simple thesis is that the glue is food – it’s so simple and clear to me. Cuisine allows diaspora to engage in culture as a generative process rather than one of dilution. Unique diasporic cuisines complicate the historical narrative of any ethnic group, they are an edible mapping of how we adapt and thrive.
In Oaxaca I went to interview Shin Gya, a woman I’ve written about in this previous post. In collaboration with Emanuel Hahn we filmed an afternoon at her restaurant and her home. I won’t spend too much time here writing about how incredible that experience was because we’re still working through the footage and I’m feeling my way through the material. But in short, Shin Gya reminds me that there are so many ways to exist in the world, that there is permission and space to be aberrant and flawed and live spectacularly too. I’m incredibly lucky to be just a witness to these stories and feel overwhelmed in the most wonderful way by the task of committing some of them to our community archive. Here are some quick iPhone snaps while Emanuel and I are still in the editing phase.
I was also in Oaxaca to cook dinner and break bread with my friends at Pocoapoco — the residency that first supported my interest in Korean diaspora in Mexico. So many people I respect and care about have come through or have been connected to this organization. It’s unique in the world of artists’ residencies in the way it emphasizes community over the desire to produce objects or “material”. I credit Pocoapoco for tangibly showing me how limited my U.S. bred conception of fine art was and forcing me to start considering global perspectives and my own cultural limitations in the way I consume art
It’s been a long time coming but I’ve been meaning to cook a gratitude meal at the residency for some time. It was such a wonderful feeling to take over the Pocoapoco kitchen for a day, to cook in a space that has meant so much to me and set me on my current path. neglected to take photos of the actual meal but here’s the menu :
I wanted to make a meal that drew from various experimentations borne from Korean food cravings while traveling in Mexico. I’ll share the recipe for the soy-pickled hoja santa on Friday. The dinner was attended by the current residents, the organizers, and some of the founding members of Pocoapoco. Emanuel was kind of enough to capture some images of the dinner which are forthcoming and are also my excuse for why I didn’t bother taking any photos. Some guests brought a special homemade mezcal brought in a repurposed liter of soda, which I’m told, is the way you know it’s the good stuff. We ate family style with people we met for the first time and shared a table with artists from different corners of the world. It’s amazing to me how people meet and come to be in the same place and this definitely felt like one of those special dots in time that can’t be replicated.
When the meal winded down the table naturally turned towards conversations about food and representation — the way it defines us as much as it “others” us. It was moving to see the conversation happen in multiple languages as Fernanda, an organizer at Pocoapoco, translated between English and Spanish as the guests volleyed across the table, talking about their own experiences with food, memory, and culture. If my food has a high goal, it’s to spark this type of conversation, to be a small gateway into questions on cuisine and cultural identity. It was an absolute joy to see this conversation in action and an honor to be at the table with people willing to engage with my food so thoughtfully.
THE FIRST THING I ATE WHEN I GOT BACK TO MY KITCHEN WAS PREDICTABLY, PASTA…
When I got home I had nothing but La Croix and some pantry basics in my fridge. Mostly when I come home from a long trip I want to unpack, clean my house, and cuddle with my animals. I want a home cooked meal but don’t really want to venture to grocery stores or start stepping back out into the world just yet.
This pasta came together in about 30 minutes and required basically 3 ingredients for the sauce : Tomatoes, Gochujang, and Butter.
I’ve made Gochujang Bolognese more times than I can count but I don’t know why it never occurred to me to make just a basic Gochujang Tomato Sauce. I garnished the pasta with roasted seaweed, parmesan, and some parsley to dress it up a bit and the whole thing came together in one pot.
BACK HOME PASTA (Gochujang Tomato Butter Sauce)
2 cans crushed tomatoes (alternatively tomato sauce)
3 Tbsp Gochujang
3 Tbsp unsalted butter
2 tsp salt
2 tsp sugar
1/4 package dry pasta
optional : I didn’t have these items on hand but I can only imagine they’d improve the sauce
1/2 onion, 3 cloves garlic crushed
If using the onion and garlic add those to a large pot with 1 Tbsp of butter until soft and translucent
Add tomatoes and use a large wooden spoon to break down the tomatoes
When the tomatoes are starting to simmer, add the remaining butter, gochujang, salt and sugar
Reduce heat to simmer and let cook down for about 15-20 minutes unlidded
If you want to go an extra step, let the sauce cool down and use an hand mixer to emulsify the sauce and make silky. Not necessary, but if you have the time, go for it.
Parboil your pasta short of 3 minutes according to the package instructions, remove all but about 10% of your pasta water and add about 1 cup of tomato sauce.
Cook pasta in tomato sauce, adding more sauce as it reduces until the pasta is completely cooked
Serve with crushed roasted seaweed, parmesan, and roughly torn parsley