Cooking Korean Food Again: Why I Was Gone for 8 Months

I wake up and roll out my yoga mat. These days, I’ve been following a program called Flow and Stretch, and after moving my body through it, I feel so refreshed. What I love about this program is that it starts with 30 minutes of power yoga to sweat and strength and ends with 30 minutes of deep yin-yoga stretching.

My yoga teacher is still Travis Eliot —I’ve been practicing with him for five years now. I even went on yoga retreats to Croatia and Bali and had the chance to meet him in person. His energy is so calm and down to earth. Whenever I finish his classes, new ideas often come to me, or I find clarity for something I’ve been struggling with.

Today was one of those days. During the final 30 minutes of yin yoga, an idea popped into my head: what if I shred some cabbage and make kimchi, like coleslaw or sauerkraut shape? I could use green cabbage with a traditional spicy seasoning, and red cabbage with a white kimchi-style brine to highlight the color. Love it. Let’s do it!

I went to the marché this morning and picked up a green cabbage. There were also so many beautiful radishes, so I grabbed a bundle of the slightly elongated kind called radish rose or French breakfast radish. I couldn’t find any red cabbage, so I’ll have to try again next time.

On our way out of the market, I noticed a flower shop at the end of the street. Big hydrangeas immediately caught my eye. I picked out two and paid for them, then stood waiting for our Uber (it was walking distance, but our hands were way too full ).

Suddenly, the flower shop lady came running toward me. She gently tapped the hydrangeas I was holding and said, “Bad, bad!” Then tapped another bunch she brought with her and said, “Good, good!” Turns out the “good” one was fluffier and fuller. She started to untie my bouquet to switch it out. But I really loved the color of the ones I had picked and made a bit of a sad face.

She understood right away, and with a warm smile and a bit of body language, she tied all three hydrangeas together and handed them to me. I was so surprised and touched that I couldn’t stop saying, “Merci beaucoup!!” over and over.

With a happy heart, I came home and trimmed the hydrangea stems before placing them in a vase. Fresh flowers instantly brightened up the whole house. I also picked up a pot of basil today. There are so many herbs I’d love to have—parsley, mint, chives, thyme, tarragon, and more—but I haven’t found ones I really like yet, so I’m planning to take my time and collect them one by one.

Alright, time to make some kimchi!

Alright, time to make some kimchi!

I start by thinly slicing the cabbage and soaking it in salt water. Dry salting works too, but brining speeds up the process.

As I wash each radish, I realized they look like mini versions of Korean ponytail radish (chonggak moo)! At first, I was going to slice them up with their greens and mix them with the green cabbage, but I changed my mind.

While brining these adorable little radishes, I can already imagine how cute this mini ponytail radish kimchi will be, and the thought alone makes me smile.

It probably won’t take long for the shredded cabbage and tiny radishes to soften in the salt water.

Since I was using locally sourced veggies and ingredients I found at the Asian markets in Paris, I made the seasoning as best as I could with what I had in my hands. But if you’d like something more guided and perfectly flavored, you can always refer to my recipes for mak kimchi, traditional napa cabbage kimchi, or vegan kimchi for the kimchi sauce.

Even if it looks like too much, feel free to make a full batch of kimchi sauce of my recipes. Any leftovers can be stored in a container and used the next time you make kimchi. No need to worry about making too much! It keeps well, and honestly, this well-fermented kimchi base is so flavorful, you can just toss it with sliced cucumbers and call it a day. So good! I also had some leftover kimchi sauce, so I stored it in an airtight container in the fridge. Can’t wait to use it!

Once the cabbage and radishes are fully salted (The radishes took about 2 hours to salt, while the cabbage needed closer to 3 hours), I rinse them three times under running water to remove the excess salt, then let them drain in a colander for 30 minutes to an hour. Once drained, I toss them with just the right amount of kimchi sauce—separately for each—and that’s it! Kimchi is surprisingly simple to make, so I try to make it my own wherever I live.

Store-bought kimchi can be hit or miss when it comes to flavor (to my taste), and if you’ve seen the price tags on Asian ingredients in Europe, you’ll know what I mean. A small bottle of Yondu costs €7.90—about $8.50! I haven’t seen small bag of kombu for under €5, and even tofu is on the pricey side. At this point, I’m seriously considering making my own tofu…! Lol!

I let the kimchi ferment at room temperature for 36 hours. Since the kitchen gets plenty of sunlight and the batch was small, it ripened fairly quickly. Normally, it takes at least 48 hours at room temperature to get that perfect tang I love. When I opened the container, I could see bubbles rising to the top—fermentation magic! I didn’t have any short-grain rice on hand, so I used jasmine rice in the kimchi paste. Surprisingly, the floral aroma didn’t come through much.

I placed the kimchi jars in the refrigerator. The next morning, I cooked up some rice, fried an egg, and a couple sausages. I had missed this kind of taste a bit.

The little cute ponytail radish kimchi turned out even better than expected. I was very surprised! It was my first time using these French radishes, and they were crisp, juicy, and had none of bitterness. I think this might be my new go-to for ponytail radish kimchi. (Mini poniyail, )

Next time I visit the market, I’m definitely picking up some purple cabbage to make purple cabbage kimchi. Just imagine how pretty a violet-hued kimchi would be!

To be honest, I barely cooked after starting my travels two years ago. And after the Netflix show and the cyberbullying that followed, I started having a PTSD around being in the kitchen—even just holding a knife became difficult. At first, I didn’t realize what I was experiencing was PTSD. I just described what I was going through to Jacob, and he was the one who recognized it. For the first time in my life, cooking felt painful. I even lost my appetite for Korean food, which had never happened before.

That’s why, for eight months since last October, I couldn’t share any new recipes or updates with you. It was even harder to cook anything involving Korean ingredients or flavors. For those eight months, I couldn’t eat Korean food at all. I only started eating it again—maybe once a month—while we were in Hawaii these past two months. And this kimchi I made after arriving in Paris… it’s the very first Korean food I’ve been able to make again since then.

Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be cooking Korean food again so soon. Even taking food photos or filming videos felt meaningless to me for a while. Now that I’ve finally shared this with you, I finally feel a quiet sense of peace in my heart. Just being able to cook Korean food again… I guess that means something’s healing.

I didn’t want to show you this vulnerable side of me and disappoint you guys. I also didn’t want to seem overly dramatic. We all carry our own traumas, don’t we? So for a while, hiding felt like the only option. It was the first time in my 41 years of life that I truly didn’t know what to do.

I spent my time in hiding with the people who love me the most—my family. It was a time when I felt especially grateful for my mom and my husband. Every word they spoke to me was healing medicine. Knowing I had people who would always be on my side, no matter what, gave me comfort.

Jacob, especially, simply stayed by my side. He was my rock.

When I cried, he gently wiped my tears. When I needed to sit down and rest, he sat with me so I could lean on him. He held space for me when I couldn’t hold myself together. And when I felt a little better, he smiled and laughed with me.

I don’t think anyone else in this world could love me like that. No matter how low I felt, he met me where I was—with patience, with love. Love is powerful. And through Jacob’s love, I was healing once again.

To be honest, I didn’t want to come back. I was exhausted—worn out by the things people said so freely, so carelessly. It felt like there was no place for me anymore. When did I start giving so much of myself to how I was perceived?

When I finally said, “I just want to walk away from it all,” Jacob didn’t hesitate for a second. He simply said, “Then do it.”

It turns out, I was the only one afraid of being forgotten if I stopped posting. I was the only one worrying that our income would shrink without new content. I was the only one anxious about what people would think of my next steps.

It was just me. All along.

When I finally returned, you were there—welcoming me back. I wonder if you can truly understand what that meant to me. Your support, your love, your presence… all of it.

I’m so grateful.

Life isn’t easy for any of us. I know that you, too, have your own struggles in life—painful, even unbearable experiences you carry with you. And yet, you’ve chosen to share your love and kindness with me through it all. That—what you’ve given me—is something beyond words. Truly.

Thank you. Truly, from the deepest part of my heart. I love you, and I’m so grateful.

Thank you for loving me even in all my flaws, just as I am, for loving my humble food and recipes, and for simply seeing me.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I love you.

I love you as who you are.

I see you, too.

Thank you so much for reading. If you missed the previous From My Table post, you can find it here. I’d love to have you back for the next story. .