WRITER: ARPITA SINGH
EDITOR : SHIVRAJ PATEL
PICTURE CREDIT: PINTEREST
When people ask me what I love most about South Korea, my answer usually surprises them. I don’t talk about the shining skyscrapers or catchy K-pop songs or even the endless charm of K-dramas. My mind gently drifts somewhere else to something far humbler, but powerful: Kimchi.
It might sound funny, but this spicy, fermented little side dish, something that most Koreans probably take for granted on their dining table, has found a permanent place in my heart. And no, my love story with kimchi didn’t start with love at first bite. In fact, the first time I tried it, I was completely thrown off. I blinked, frowned, reached for water, and questioned my life choices for a moment. It was sour, fiery, salty, tangy and a whole parade of flavors I’d never experienced before.
But here’s the thing. That odd first bite stayed with me. Not in a bad way in a curious way. I wanted to try it again. And then again. Each time, I tasted something new, something deeper. Eventually, I stopped tasting just food. I started tasting history. I started tasting care. I started tasting Korea.
Kimchi, I learned, isn’t just pickled cabbage with chili. It’s a story passed down through generations. It’s a dish that takes time, patience, and love. Traditionally, families and neighbors come together every winter during kimjang to prepare enough kimchi to last for months. That image of people gathered around, chopping, mixing, laughing, sharing stories while preparing food felt so deeply personal and beautiful. At that moment, I realized that kimchi isn’t just food. It’s a memory. It’s a community. It’s a quiet kind of love, packed in a jar.
And what amazes me even more is how endlessly versatile it is. You can eat it plain, pair it with rice, stir it into soups, fry it into pancakes, or toss it into spaghetti or even grilled cheese (yes, I tried that once, life-changing). It somehow manages to fit into everything and make it better. That’s when I realized: kimchi is kind of like Korean culture itself, layered, bold, warm, and unforgettable.
But it’s not just about flavor. There’s a quiet strength in kimchi that I really admire. Did you know it’s loaded with natural probiotics that support your immune system and gut health? During the COVID-19 pandemic, people all around the world started talking about kimchi’s health benefits. I couldn’t help but smile while everyone else was discovering it, I had already fallen in love. I felt like I was in on a little Korean secret all along.
Yet, more than its taste or health benefits, kimchi means something deeper to me. It reminds me that even the simplest things, a humble vegetable, a handful of spices can become something extraordinary when treated with care. That richness doesn’t always come from extravagance. Sometimes, it comes from tradition. From stories. From love.
Whenever I imagine myself walking through the busy stalls of Gwangjang Market or learning Korean with hope in my heart, kimchi is there in the background like a comforting voice that says, “You’re getting closer.” I haven’t been to Korea yet, but somehow, through this little dish, I’ve already connected with its soul.
Kimchi, to me, is more than food. It’s a feeling. A reminder. A connection. When I eat it, I think of the hands that made it. The winters it helped people get through. The laughter it witnessed around dinner tables. The comfort it gave during hard times. It’s strange how something so small can carry so much meaning but kimchi does.
So yes, I love kimchi. I love the boldness of its flavor and the gentleness of its story. I love how it represents a culture that’s both strong and tender. And more than anything, I love how it’s become a part of my journey, my way of getting to know Korea not just through textbooks or screens, but through taste and tradition.
One day, I hope I’ll be able to be a part of a kimjang not just as a guest, but as someone who understands what it means. Someone who’s learned enough, felt enough, and loved enough to be welcomed into that circle. Until then, I’ll keep learning, dreaming, and, of course, eating kimchi because sometimes, love doesn’t begin with fireworks. Sometimes, it begins with a bite that makes you blink, reach for water… and fall slowly, unexpectedly, in love.
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