Beef Curry with Rice

The week before. I drove out to Bellevue on Saturday, July 17, which is four days from now as I write this, and for the first time in my life I am writing a blog post about an event that has not yet happened. I will tell them. I have been preparing. I am, as Dr. Yoon and I have been phrasing it, "regulated." I will know if the regulation holds on Saturday.

James and I had a long conversation on Wednesday night about whether he should come with me or whether I should go alone. He wanted to come. I wanted him to come. Dr. Yoon, when I asked her, said, "Go alone. Karen needs to be able to react without an audience." She is right. I hate that she is right. James is coming out separately Saturday evening for dinner afterwards, which gives me the afternoon alone with them and then reinforcements. A structure that acknowledges both needs.

Jisoo wrote me a letter this week that I have read eleven times. She told me about her wedding — she married at twenty-three, to a man her parents approved of, Mr. Kim, who did not know about me when she married him. She told him after their first child, Jihoon, was born. He took it without anger. He said only, "If she ever comes back, we will welcome her." He is still alive. He is seventy. He has been, Jisoo wrote, a quiet support through her grief about me. She said, "He is a good man. He would want me to tell you that you are welcome in our home whenever you come." I cried on the bedroom floor holding the laptop. James sat on the floor with me. He did not try to speak. He just sat.

I have half-siblings. I keep rolling that fact in my mouth like a coin I have not finished examining. Jihoon, twenty-four, an accounting student in Seoul. Eunji, twenty-one, a nursing student in Busan. They know I exist. They have known for years, Jisoo told me — she told them when Jihoon turned eighteen. They have, she said, been curious and nervous about me in equal measure. She did not tell me how they are feeling about the reunion yet. She said it was their story to tell me, not hers.

I made budae jjigae on Thursday — Korean army stew, the dish invented in the postwar years from American army rations and Korean fermented condiments. Kimchi, gochujang, ramen, Spam, hot dogs, American cheese, tofu, mushrooms, scallion. It is tacky and delicious and it is, I think, the dish that best represents me — a fusion that was born from survival, that is loved in spite of its origins, that does not apologize for what it is. I made a big pot. I ate it for three meals.

Dr. Yoon on Thursday: we did not role-play anymore. She said, "You are ready. Go." I said, "What if I'm not?" She said, "You'll know by Tuesday. Come back and we'll process it." That is the deal. Saturday is Saturday. Tuesday I report back.

Kevin called on Sunday. I still have not told him. I will, after I tell them. He said his sponsor asked him this week what his biggest fear was, and he said, "Losing Steph." I did not know he feared that. I do not know what to do with that. I told him he would not lose me. He said, "Good." We talked about the roastery for the next hour.

The recipe this week is budae jjigae — a stew of improbable components that insists on being a meal. Everything in the pot. Bring it to a boil. Eat it at the table with people who understand.

I said the recipe this week is budae jjigae, and it is — but the closest I can point you toward in terms of spirit is this beef curry: a humble one-pot stew where everything goes in together, where the result is warmer and more complete than any single ingredient deserves to be. I made this the same week, on the nights when I couldn’t face another bowl of army stew but still needed something that felt like being held. Curry over rice is, in its own way, the same kind of meal — improbable components that insist on becoming something worth sitting down for.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs beef chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 tablespoon neutral oil (such as vegetable or canola)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
2 tablespoons curry powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 can (14 oz) diced tomatoes
1 can (14 oz) coconut milk
1 cup beef broth
2 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cubed
2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
Fresh cilantro, for serving
3 cups cooked white rice, for serving

Instructions

Brown the beef. Pat beef cubes dry with paper towels and season generously with salt. Heat oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches, sear the beef on all sides until deeply browned, about 3–4 minutes per batch. Transfer browned beef to a plate and set aside.
Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and ginger and cook for 1 minute more, until fragrant.
Bloom the spices. Add curry powder, cumin, turmeric, and cayenne to the pot. Stir constantly for about 1 minute, toasting the spices in the oil until deeply fragrant. Add tomato paste and stir to combine, cooking for another 30 seconds.
Build the stew. Pour in the diced tomatoes, coconut milk, and beef broth. Stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Return the seared beef and any accumulated juices to the pot.
Add vegetables and simmer. Add the potatoes and carrots. Bring the stew to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 35–40 minutes, until the beef is tender and the vegetables are cooked through.
Season and serve. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Ladle the curry over bowls of cooked white rice and top with fresh cilantro.

Nutrition (per serving)

Beef Curry with Rice — Everything in the Pot