Asparagus with Sesame Seeds

Jisoo arrives in four weeks. I am preparing the house — which sounds simple, like cleaning and buying groceries, but it is not simple. It is the most complex preparation I have ever done because the person arriving is not a guest. The person arriving is my mother. My birth mother. The woman whose hands are on the wall above my stove. The woman whose marble is under my countertops. The woman who named my daughter. She is coming to stand in my kitchen for the first time and I want the kitchen to tell her: you are not a visitor. You are the reason this room exists. You are already home.

Grace has been helping me stock the kitchen with Korean ingredients — the full inventory she insisted on. Dried anchovies for stock. Dried kelp. Gochugaru from a specific Korean supplier Grace trusts. Doenjang from a producer in Chungcheong Province that Grace says is "acceptable" (her highest praise for commercial doenjang; Jisoo's homemade is the only doenjang Grace considers "correct"). Soybean sprouts. Napa cabbage. Everything Jisoo might need to cook her food in my kitchen. Grace walked through the pantry on Wednesday and said, "It is ready. She will not lack anything." I said, "Thank you, Grace." She said, "I am not doing this for you. I am doing this for a mother who is visiting her daughter's kitchen for the first time. This is the most important meal she will ever cook. The kitchen must be ready." Grace understands. Grace has always understood. Grace is the grandmother who bridges the gap between Busan and Seattle.

Hana's vocabulary continues to expand — she has twenty-five words now, a mix of Korean and English. She code-switches without prompting: "bap" at home, "rice" at the playgroup teacher's suggestion. She says "halmoni" for Jisoo on FaceTime and "Ka-Ka" for Karen in person. She has already learned that language is contextual, that the word for rice depends on who you're talking to, that the world has more than one name for everything. She is bilingual at sixteen months. She is doing the thing I spent twenty-five years trying to do: exist in two languages without feeling split. For Hana, the two languages are not a conflict. They are just Tuesday.

The recipe this week is anchovy stock — the foundation broth of Korean cooking, the stock that will be in the pot when Jisoo arrives. Dried anchovies (large, with heads removed and guts cleaned). Dried kelp (dashima). Dried shiitake mushrooms. Radish. Water. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer. Cook for twenty minutes. Strain. The stock is pale gold and clean and oceanic and it is the base of doenjang jjigae, sundubu jjigae, kimchi jjigae, every jjigae, every stew. The stock is the foundation. The kitchen is built on it. Jisoo will taste the stock and she will know: my daughter's kitchen is ready. My daughter's kitchen is Korean.

While the stock is doing its slow, important work on the back burner — the anchovies and kelp turning the water that pale gold color that means the kitchen is ready — I needed something simple and present to cook with my hands. Grace had brought asparagus from the market along with the pantry staples, and I had sesame seeds already open on the counter. It felt right: a dish that uses the pantry we built together, something Hana could eat beside me at the counter while I waited for a pot to come to a simmer. This is the kind of recipe I will keep making when Jisoo is here — quick, grounded, with sesame threading through it like a language we both already speak.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb fresh asparagus, tough ends trimmed
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons sesame seeds, toasted
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon rice vinegar (optional, for brightness)

Instructions

Prep the asparagus. Snap or cut the woody ends off the asparagus spears. If spears are thick, slice them on a slight diagonal into 2-inch pieces. Pat dry with a paper towel.
Toast the sesame seeds. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast the sesame seeds for 2—3 minutes, stirring frequently, until golden and fragrant. Remove and set aside.
Saute the asparagus. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the asparagus in a single layer and cook, undisturbed, for 2 minutes to get some color. Toss and continue cooking for another 3—4 minutes until crisp-tender and lightly blistered at the edges.
Add garlic and season. Push the asparagus to the sides of the pan and add the minced garlic to the center. Let it sizzle for 30 seconds, then toss everything together. Add the soy sauce and rice vinegar, toss once more, and remove from heat.
Finish with sesame. Drizzle the sesame oil over the asparagus, sprinkle the toasted sesame seeds generously over the top, and add a pinch of salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Asparagus with Sesame Seeds — A Side Dish for the Kitchen Being Made Ready