Flavors of Home: Reflecting on Global Table as a Korean American

At 7 p.m., I stepped into Commons alongside 350 others who registered for the event. Venerable Jeong Kwan began the event by explaining that the Buddhist way of eating emphasized respect for life (hence the strictly vegan diet), gratitude for the food, and humility by using all five senses to consume each meal. She further explained how she creates dwenjang (soybean paste) and ganjang (soy sauce) from scratch, showcasing her extensive knowledge of and reverence for nature’s ingredients and the art of cooking. 

After this explanation, Venerable Jeong Kwan began building the bibimbap, a Korean traditional dish that mixes rice with various seasoned vegetables and herbs. That evening, there were six different ingredients set in the center of each table. Three of them—gosari, chwinameul, and Korean zucchini—she brought from Korea. The other three—radish, mushrooms, and spinach—were sourced locally. There were also dried seaweed flakes and pan-fried tofu as garnish, two side dishes (dried persimmons in gochujang and shiitake mushrooms cooked in soy sauce), and bite-sized Korean traditional desserts. 

To build the bibimbap, everyone at my table passed around each ingredient bowl, taking only as much as we needed. Venerable Jeong Kwan told us not to leave any of it behind, so we took turns taking from each bowl until they were all emptied. Of course, the food was delicious. It reminded me of my grandmother’s cooking, who was also Buddhist—not heavily seasoned, but seasoned just enough to bring out the unique natural flavors of each ingredient. 

Sitting there and enjoying my bibimbap, I felt deeply nostalgic and grateful for my culture. At the same time, I was in awe of how connected I felt to everyone else in the room through the sharing of Korean culture and Buddhist values. Every time I saw that a Korean event was going to discuss something other than K-pop or modern Korean culture, a persistent worry would worm into my head: What if they don’t care to understand? What if traditional Korean practices seem too different? This Global Table event was the first time I was able to directly see dozens of people enjoying Korean traditional food, customs, and values. It was proof that all aspects of Korean culture—historical or modern—could be accepted and celebrated in America. That night, something in me healed. 

After we finished eating, Venerable Jeong Kwan exclaimed that she forgot to tell us the prayer that Buddhists say before eating (the prayer at the top of the page). We spoke it in unison, our voices ringing strong and clear throughout the hall. Then, she instructed us to bend our thumbs and lightly cover them with our fingers. 

“You are inside this space,” she said. For some reason, I felt that she was also communicating with this gesture: You are precious. You are present. 

Credit: Daniel Vieira

We put our bent hands on our knees, straightening our elbows, and sat in collective silence with our eyes half-lidded until she struck the wooden instrument, letting us know the meditation was done. The goal of performing this meditation, she explained, is to feel how the food has nourished our bodies by becoming present and grateful for the meal. 

It certainly worked. I left feeling full, grateful, and inspired by the Buddhist values that Venerable Jeong Kwan taught us that night.

The Commons Rooted menu now offers a rice dish inspired by Venerable Jeong Kwan’s bibimbap recipe. I encourage my fellow Yalies to go and try—if not for the delicious flavor, then for the sense of community, inclusion, and celebration that comes with a steaming bowl of rice.