Kimchi and pride

In my missionary zeal for cooking, I often take the line that it is cooking that makes us human.

Consider the following. Most species have a rudimentary understanding of communications. Animals certainly do have feelings. An elephant can recognise itself in a mirror and thus some experts are of the opinion that elephants have consciousness too – perhaps not as developed as humans but a form of consciousness nonetheless.

But other animals can’t cook. Humans can. And so cooking makes us human, as far as I’m concerned. I know that there is the very valid argument that cooking presupposes a very high form of intelligence but at the end of the day, intelligence is relative – isn’t it? All I’m saying is: the claim that it is cooking which makes us human is a beautiful way of telling the human story and the evolution of human civilisation.

Cooking also grounds us in the land we are in. When food isn’t intensely commodified like everything else is in capitalism, then the land on which a people live determines the cooking methods and also the food. So telling the story of cooking and food is telling the story of the land, its people and the relation between both. Industrialisation of food does affect that relation and in the food chain there are interventions of technology and packaged or ‘alien’ food – but that, to some extent, is the basis of modern civilisation based on unprecedented level of trade. The cultures which are able to retain the connection with their past and the continuity of cooking traditions (with local organic ingredients) tend to beat the obesity and diabetes epidemics and other such health concerns. Also, food tells the history and story of culture in an intriguing way.

Perhaps Korea is the best place which can tell its history of political oppression, of fiscal paucity and of human resilience through its food. Korean cuisine is one big chain of memory and of human ingenuity to overcome circumstances. Having lived in South Korea for five years, it always feels like there is some story to discover behind the dish that you are served. At the risk of excessive romanticisation, I maintain that the storytelling power of much of the food that is served today in Korea has its origin in times of war or famine.

Take the example of the side dishes. The first thing which strikes you in any restaurant is the number of side dishes that are served. From fried mushrooms to boiled eggs to pickled cucumbers to potatoes to radish to tofu – and the list goes on. And of course, there is the ever-popular kimchi. In my own experience, sometimes the side dishes are enough to fill you up but you don’t have to pay for them. Oh and there is a catch: you can’t refuse them! Or if you do, you will be considered rude. The story goes that under the Japanese occupation, food was hard to come by and very different ingredients would be searched out and combined with spices to make the plate. Things are different now, at least in the South. In fact, South Korea is a global economic power. But those side dishes are still served – partly as a tribute to the elders who braved harder times and also to remember roots.

Consider also the example of Budae-jjigae. Alain Bourdain exclaimed that this dish is a testament to how humans can invent taste. It is a dish made from items scavenged around American and South Korean military bases in and after the Korean War. It was a time of poor nutrition, even famine. Noodles, spam meat, packaged beans (meant for the military) and kimchi are all mixed together with a generous serving of spices to give all the wrong things a new taste of their own! It is the food of the Korean military bases: every Korean male is required to serve for 2 years in the military, so the military influences Korean culture in significant ways.

One last example of how contemporary Korean cuisine is telling of the past of this land is the abundance of fried chicken joints. In 1998, South Korea had to be bailed out by IMF with the largest ever bail-out package of US $ 58 billion. Workers were laid off and the then president urged people to “Spend and not save” (hinting at the previously dominant message of saving). The laid-off workers came up with small enterprises of fried chicken – as that was cheap both to produce and to consume. Today, every street will have a fried chicken spot and for Koreans, especially the young lot, a good time on the weekend means spending the night in a fried chicken joint. These establishments also have other dishes with chicken being the major ingredient – enjoyed with beer. I can’t even count the number of ways in which fried chicken is made in Korea!

Korean cuisine, I find, also had the tendency to resist the monopoly of global food companies – or it has done so until at least two decades ago. But with the opening up of the economy, the proud health record of Korea is also on the decline, especially with alarming numbers in terms of child obesity.

verall, I believe Korean culture has retained its culinary heritage and is proudly flaunting its food. Kimchi has been popularised throughout the globe through Korean cultural influence, including dramas, and perhaps it will soon become a global food if it isn’t already. Kimchi and pickled food are in many ways tied to a unique cultural conception amongst Koreans. Enter any residential building and you will find the big clay pots of kimchi undergoing fermentation. And the landlords will offer them to you with delight if you are a foreigner!

Given the people’s intense ownership of cultural food products and the ways of cooking despite all the globalisation and standardization, Korean food has become an inseparable part of the people’s self-conception. For the most part it also has ensured the health quality of the people – given the tendency to prefer boiling rather than the use of industrially produced oils and also the focus on fermentation. The balance between satiation and health remains: at least until the sugar onslaught of the 1980’s, the diabetes rates and other health risks were in check.

From the example of Korea there is a lot to learn. The diverse food cultures of Pakistan can emulate much from this peninsula.

For one, Pakistan has a vibrant range of cousins from the meat-heavy food of the Pashtun regions to the spice-laden approach of Punjab and Karachi. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to make our food into a cultural product to be exported to the world and to help us in creating that soft image which we so crave. Under the forces of hunger and deprivation, monopolies have also stripped our food of its organic and nutrient values. The state will subsidise sugar mills and the operations of big industries and traders but will not extend that support to small farmers who till the land and come up with produce which keeps the land fertile and the diet healthy. The unnatural insistence on Banaspati, sugar and heavily refined grains is also taking a toll on our health. The argument that the food policies of the country only reflect the state of the economy is valid, but the counter-argument that the state needs to spend more on the health and thus the diet of people also holds true.

Focusing on the way we produce food and consume it – and also how it can be made into a cultural product – are all lessons that we need to learn and employ.

Hurmat Ali Shah is interested in the intersection of politics, society and culture