A Paradise of One's Own (3)
By the time the furniture was assembled and every last appliance was set up, evening had already settled in.
The workers said they had to get back to Seoul, so they hurriedly loaded up their truck and pulled away.
"Min-seok, you hungry? Want me to make you something?" I asked, coming out of the bathroom to wash up after finishing the mop-down of the floors.
"I brought dried beef jerky and cheese. That'll go great with wine."
"You call that a meal?"
"It's not like anything delivers out here. The fridge was completely empty when I looked earlier."
"Well, there's more to this house than just the fridge. There's a storage cellar too."
What I'd asked Min-seok to design was the interior of the house. He knew about the sunroom I'd had built, of course.
Connected to the back of the house so we could enjoy barbecue even in winter, the sunroom was fitted with a wood-burning stove to keep it warm.
But he has no idea what I've done with the backyard.
I beckoned him to follow and led the way out to the sunroom through the kitchen's back door. I'd landscaped the front yard with grass and fruit trees, while the backyard had been turned into an outdoor cooking space.
"I built that," I said, pointing to the hearth I'd made by stacking bricks and coating them with loess clay. On top of it sat a cast-iron cauldron, gleaming with a fresh coat of oil. I'd made the firebox wide and round so that pizzas or whole fish could be roasted over the wood fire.
"Whoa, what is this? A loess hearth with a cauldron to boot! Isn't this against the rules or something?"
"Against the rules?"
"Yeah. You said you were going to remodel an old farmhouse, not build your own private paradise."
Apparently, on top of being green with envy already, my backyard pushed him over the edge into calling foul.
"It's a little early for you to say that."
I opened the door of the earth cellar that connected to the back mountain. "It's a fermentation cellar."
When I flipped on the light switch, Min-seok's jaw dropped.
"Whoa!"
The cellar was shaped like a giant jar, widening as it went deeper from the entrance, with shelves built along the curved walls to store all kinds of ingredients.
"Isn't this way too big for just you?"
"I'm planning to make jang and ferment it. Soybean paste."
At my words, Min-seok put on an expression of sheer astonishment. He'd always known I enjoyed cooking, but apparently he'd never imagined I'd make it my livelihood. When I'd abruptly quit my comfortable bank job and run off to Gangwon Province, he'd worried I wouldn't be able to start anything new so easily. But seeing me plan a new venture and put it into action this quickly left him amazed, envious, and impressed all at once.
"Well, I'll take that as a compliment."
"But why soybean paste of all things?"
"Because it's delicious," I said with a laugh. "I realized I'd have to farm something, and I figured I might as well grow something that turns a profit. Then the agricultural corporation came through for me, and, well."
There had been a mountain of reasons and steps in between, but I left it at that.
"If it's something you want to do, I'm all for it."
"Haha, thanks."
"But you're aging doenjang in a cellar?"
"Traditionally, doenjang is naturally fermented in sunlight and open air. You set the onggi jars out in a sunny yard, air them out now and then, and wait a long time for the fermentation to do its work."
Most people still made doenjang that traditional way, which meant a newcomer like me had no competitive edge jumping into that game. Cellar aging was a relatively recent development—a technique that used a cave's constant temperature and humidity to suppress stray bacteria and bring out an even deeper, savorier flavor in the paste. Both methods had their pros and cons, but cellar-aged doenjang simply suited my palate better. It needed less seasoning, had less of that off-putting smell, and was clean enough that it barely foamed up when you boiled it into stew.
Best of all, cellar-aged doenjang didn't take nearly as long to ferment. Which is a huge commercial advantage. Even Sunchang, famous as a traditional jang-making region, had started producing cellar-aged doenjang these days and selling it as a local specialty. Sunchang's version was tasty, but to my tongue, Madam Han Su-ja's cellar-aged doenjang had just a touch more nutty depth. And since she'd personally shared her secrets with me, I planned to experiment plenty.
"The county office agreed to help with distribution. The county governor even said he'd promote it actively."
"Wow, so you're all set then?"
"Pretty much."
I pointed to jars the size of honey pots lined up on the shelves. "I marinated beef, pork, and chicken in cellar-aged doenjang and gochujang for when you came. Once the moisture draws out, the texture gets wonderfully chewy. And these are the kimchi varieties the Women's Association President gave me from this year's kimchi-making."
"Just how many kinds of kimchi do you have in here?"
"Quite a few."
I also opened the cooler box I'd stored inside the cellar. I'd bought a whole native chicken to make ginseng-and-mushroom chicken soup for Min-seok.
"The reason I asked what you wanted to eat is that there's way too much food. Beef, pork, chicken—every ingredient's here. Just say the word."
"Can't I have all of it?"
"Nothing stopping you. Start hauling these jars out."
Min-seok followed my orders without missing a beat, shaking his head the whole time. "I never imagined you'd learned to live this well. I figured you'd be perfectly happy eating kimchi with instant ramen forever."
"To be fair, when I first got here, I was happy enough eating nothing but ramen and kimchi for three days straight."
Back then, just sitting around breathing the clean air doing nothing at all had been bliss. But once I remembered that I'd left the city behind in order to live a better life than that, I stopped settling for lazy meals. I dug up wild chives, peeled potatoes, tore eggplant over rice—always trying to make one more proper dish for myself. Taking care of my own meals, it turned out, was the most basic form of respecting myself.
I gave a little shrug. "Doing nothing is nice, sure, but wouldn't eating well make you even happier?"
"Can't argue with that."
"So what do you want to eat first?"
"Meat, meat, meat!"
At Min-seok's declaration that he wanted to try the beef, chicken, and pork all in one sitting, I couldn't help but chuckle. "Fine by me. Start peeling onions. And garlic."
With the beef marinated in the cellar-aged doenjang, I made a soybean paste stew; with the chicken in the gochujang, a spicy braised chicken dish. The pork coated in the cellar doenjang seasoning would be grilled fresh at the table as we ate.
I lit a fire in the hearth, washed the new-harvest rice, and set the cauldron to cook. Once Min-seok trimmed the onions, potatoes, and carrots, I got the braised chicken bubbling away on the camping stove, then set the doenjang stew on a portable burner beside it. Soon everything was simmering at once, and the delicious smells rolled through the air.
"Looks like you and me are about to have ourselves a proper Korean feast," Min-seok said, bustling around running my errands and gasping in admiration every few minutes.
"Why not? What's stopping us?"
I pulled the cork from the wine, poured Min-seok a glass, and had one myself. The smell of the food, the atmosphere of the backyard, the good wine—this was shaping up to be a dinner lacking absolutely nothing.
Before long the rice came to a rolling boil. I pulled the charcoal out of the hearth once the rice had steamed through, and transferred it into the brazier. I'd built a spot on the wooden platform to set the brazier, and it felt like a very wise choice indeed—now I could sit cross-legged on the platform grilling meat, just like at a galbi restaurant.
Opening the brazier's air vent, I got serious about grilling the doenjang-marinated pork belly.
Sizzle!
The pork fat mingled with the doenjang marinade, sending up a rich, sweet, savory aroma that teased the senses.
"Here, try it." I popped a well-cooked piece of doenjang pork belly into Min-seok's mouth.
"This is insane! It's so good I can't stand it. This might sound trite, but it literally melts in your mouth. Melts."
"So it suits your taste, then?"
"You could eat this with sand instead of rice and it'd still be delicious. This might be the best marinated pork belly I've had in my entire life."
I grinned and set the whole pot of braised chicken on the table. Steaming rice fresh from the cauldron, the cellar-aged doenjang stew, and Madam Han Su-ja's kimchi neatly sliced and arranged alongside.
"Alright, let's eat."
"Thanks for the food. Here we go!" Min-seok scooped up an enormous bite of rice, popped it in, and let out a sigh of pure satisfaction. The smoky wood-fire aroma that had seeped into the cauldron rice, the chewy, springy grains bursting with texture—the sweetness of the new rice had him muttering in disbelief that everything he'd eaten before must have been animal feed.
"Wow, look at all those stars."
Min-seok had eaten so heartily that every last dish was wiped clean. And even that wasn't enough—he stirred rice into the leftover braised chicken sauce and fried it up, then was patting his full belly when he looked up at the night sky and let out a sigh of awe.
"You'll see them even better like this," I said, and switched off the LED light. The moment I did, the stars glittering overhead filled my entire field of vision.
"I've never seen this many stars in my life. It's insane. So beautiful."
"Yeah."
After star-gazing for a good long while, Min-seok spoke up. "Oh, right! I heard a meteor landed somewhere around here. You never went looking for it?"
"Never did."
It had dropped in a place only I could see, after all.
Min-seok clicked his tongue. "You should look. Somebody picked up a meteorite and sold it to the government."
"Really?"
"Might've been someone from this very area, for all you know. Supposedly they got 1.5 billion won for it."
I flipped the LED light back on, brightening the backyard, and said, "Whoever it was, good for them."
I'd only been humoring him, but Min-seok shot me a sidelong glance and gave a small shake of his head. "Don't be jealous. From where I'm standing, you look happier than that person ever will."
"That person is me."
The truth had slipped out before I could stop it, startling even me. Min-seok asked what I meant.
"Huh?"
He already envied me as it was—imagine how deflated he'd be if he found out I was the meteorite's owner. I hurried to speak up. "I was just saying I'm finding my own kind of happiness, and that I'm plenty happy right now."
"That's exactly how it looks to me, too." Min-seok raised his glass for a toast.
I lifted mine, clinked it lightly against his, and took a sip of wine. A dear friend, delicious food, and stars scattered across the night sky—a perfect housewarming.
The next day, I took yesterday's leftover rice, tossed it in olive oil, sliced in Madam Han Su-ja's aged kimchi, and made kimchi fried rice. Maybe it was the cauldron, but when I tasted it to check the seasoning, a faint smoky wood-fire flavor had worked its way into every bite.
"Oh, this is good."
"Lemme see." Min-seok lunged in with his spoon, took one bite of the steaming kimchi fried rice, and went wide-eyed. "How is this so good?"
"You must be built for country living. Everything cooked in that cauldron gets a rave from you."
"It's just genuinely delicious."
We scraped the cauldron clean to the last grain in no time, and when we finished, beads of sweat had gathered across the bridge of my nose. It had been so good we'd eaten like it was a battle, and I'd completely forgotten about the ginseng-mushroom chicken soup. I wrapped the mushrooms in paper towels, tucked them into a plastic bag, and handed them to Min-seok.
"Take the mushrooms home and make the chicken soup with your family."
"You're the best, buddy!"
Since he didn't refuse, he clearly wanted to feed his family that soup.
"Alright, let's clean up and head out. Carpenter Jang called—he says he absolutely has to see you."
"Oh, right, sure."
A cast-iron cauldron will rust if you don't clean it right away, so I fed wood into the hearth and lit a fire. Soon the water in the cauldron was boiling, and I scooped it out with a gourd ladle, refilled it, and repeated the process. At some point, clear water was sloshing gently inside the cauldron. I poured out the final rinse, wiped it down with a damp cloth, and rubbed in a coat of oil.
While I was seasoning the cauldron, Min-seok pulled out every dish we'd used since yesterday and washed them all. Setting aside how quick his hands were, his dishwashing form was something to behold.
"You've got housewife-expert skills there."
"My wife's raising two kids while caring for my mother-in-law—how could my dishwashing not improve?"
"Exactly. So make sure you negotiate well with Carpenter Jang today, so you can bring your wife home a nice fat living allowance."
"Okay."
Once the dishes were done, Min-seok lamented how short his one-night, two-day vacation had been. Cooking with me and staying up all night talking had clearly done him a world of good.
"Can I come visit again?"
"Of course. Bring the kids too. And your wife and your mother."
I'd remodeled the old shed next to the gate into a guest room, planning to offer it to my parents or any guests who came to stay the night.
"You mean it? I'll bring the whole family?"
"That's what I just said, isn't it?"
I laughed as I loaded Min-seok's bag into the car. He belatedly pulled out his phone, snapping photos of the village and every corner of the house before climbing into the passenger seat.
"Gotta show my wife these pictures. I'm going to tell her that once the kids are all grown, this is how we should live too."
"You should."
As I drove down the village road with Min-seok, I spotted a Starex van parked in front of the village head's house—one I didn't recognize. Could it finally be Madam Han Su-ja's sister, Han Mi-ja's family?
I glanced at them through the rearview mirror. A child was standing beside the Starex. I heard Han Mi-ja's youngest is in middle school. Why is this kid so small?