I never craved Korean food growing up.
I didn’t hate it either. But when I would come out of my bedroom for dinner and saw the table set with chopsticks, silver spoons, and banchan, I was forced to accept the cruel indifference of the world: pasta wasn’t on the menu tonight.
One of the most overplayed Asian-American troupes is about being embarrassed about food.
Luckily, I didn’t really face any of that because my mom would keep my school lunches relatively unoffensive. My meals were a Costco rotation of taquitos, ravioli, and the occasional kimbap. Sometimes “Umma” would be kind enough to arm me with a Lunchable.