News about the Family: Culinary Quandaries

I revealed something to my host family on Sunday last that I should or should not have revealed. I am unsure at this point of the ramifications of my action. It is said that when Mao Tse Tung was asked what the significance of the French Revolution is, he responded, “It is too soon to say.” I feel the same about what I am sure is a less significant event in the grand scheme of things, but immediately far more significant to my person and those the Powers that Be have surrounded me with. Essentially, what happened is this:

I was eating dinner slowly as per usual. To be more exact, I was eating dinner at my usual business like pace, but there was so much food that I seemed to be eating slowly. It is a habit of Koreans, so I’ve been told, to overfeed their guests and often to overfeed everyone except themselves. For instance, my host mother barely eats from what I can tell, but everyone else in the family is served heaping bowlfuls of whatever scrumptious Korean concoction she has come up with. This has much to do with having such a long history of oppression, want, and starvation. (This history, I have discovered, is also the reason Koreans “traditionally” eat dog meat. Apparently, they didn’t start doing this “traditionally” until the 1950s.)

The host mother noticed that I had not yet finished my dinner while everyone else had, and she spoke some Korean to our resident knowledgeable person in English nouns and verbs, my host sister.

“Jeremy. You do not finish?”
“No, I’ll finish. It’s delicious, it’s just so much!”
“It is ok if you do not finish. Dogs hungry.”
“Huh?”
“Dogs hungry.”
“Dogs hungry? The dogs can eat my food?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, good.”

What followed was a lengthy Konglish conversation concerning my eating habits in the United States in which I managed to get across that I rarely ate a full breakfast, and if I eat at all for breakfast, it’s usually a slice of toast and a cup o’ joe or glass of milk, certainly not the dinner like affair that Korean breakfasts consist of. Indeed, growing up I would usually have a protein shake that my American mother made for me. The host mother said it was ok if I ate just bread and coffee for breakfast. “Really?” says I, incredulously, I might add. Yes, really. The family even purchased a combination coffee brewer and toaster.

Well, needless to say I was pleased, and I looked forward to eating Monday morning’s “breakfast” with great anticipation, as I would in fact not be eating it.

That is, until I came down the stairs the next morning to find the family in front of the TV watching Korean drama as usual… and eating bread and apples for breakfast. This continued all week. It is traditional for families to eat together (thus the reason we eat dinner at 9:00 pm). Apparently, this includes any strange breakfast options the Western guest might want. Indeed, bread is permeating many meals now. Dinner tonight, for instance, we had “Ugly Donuts” (pan fried dough covered in brown sugar… delicious) and dumpling-potato soup. I had no intention of changing the family’s eating habits. This could be bad.

The situation is a little awkward to say the least, but by the end of the week the host mother served rice and kimchi again for breakfast. I think we’ve reached an understanding. She may serve whatever she wants for breakfast. If I feel like my stomach can handle it, I’ll eat it. If not, the family can enjoy it while I nibble on a slice of toast.