My farewell week at Amazon. Not the last day — that's in three weeks — but the week when it became real to the people around me. I sent my farewell email on Monday. Subject: "Leaving to Make Kimchi." The email was brief: fifteen years, Principal Engineer, grateful, leaving to run a Korean meal kit company with my husband, going to make food with my birth mother's recipes. I signed it: Stephanie Park-Chen, soon to be full-time kimchi maker. Three hundred people responded. Most said congratulations. Some said they were jealous. One person — an engineer I'd worked with for seven years — wrote: "I've been reading about your company. The recipe cards made my Korean-adopted daughter cry. Thank you for making something that matters." I printed that email. I added it to the archive.
The last Amazon sprint review was Wednesday. I led it with the disengaged clarity of someone who has already left. The architecture decisions I'd been agonizing over for months suddenly seemed manageable — not because they were easier, but because they were no longer mine. Someone else will inherit them. Someone else will agonize. I am going to miss the technical work — the elegance of a well-designed system, the satisfaction of debugging complex problems. I am not going to miss anything else.
Hana tried avocado this week. She was less impressed than she was with sweet potato — she made a face that James called "the betrayal face," as though the avocado was a personal offense. She ate three spoonfuls and then refused to open her mouth. I respect this. She has boundaries. She will learn to like avocado later, or she won't, and either way she will be a person with opinions about food, which is all I ever wanted for her.
James and I celebrated my impending departure on Friday — dinner at the Korean restaurant in Ballard, the one we went to last summer. I had the jjajangmyeon again. He had the kimchi bokkeumbap again. We sat at the same table. Everything was the same and everything was different. Last time I was pregnant and scared and unsure. This time I have a daughter and a company and a decision that has been made and the making of it has set me free. James raised his glass. He said, "To the kimchi maker." I said, "To the product manager who quit first." He smiled. We clinked. The noodles were good. The future was good. Everything, for this one Friday night, was good.
The recipe this week is jjajangmyeon — the black bean noodles I keep returning to, the dish that has become my celebration food, my transition food, my "something has changed and I need noodles" food. Chunjang, fried until fragrant. Pork belly, diced. Onion, zucchini, potato, diced. Chicken stock. Cornstarch slurry. Thick wheat noodles. The sauce is dark and sweet and coats everything. I eat it and I think about endings and beginnings and the fact that they taste the same because they are the same — every ending is a beginning wearing different clothes. The noodles know this. The noodles are wise.
Zucchini showed up in my jjajangmyeon that Friday night in Ballard — diced small, cooked soft, folded into the black bean sauce like it had always belonged there — and it occurred to me that zucchini is the vegetable of transition: it grows faster than you expect, it appears in everything, and it asks nothing of you except that you show up and cook it. Now that I’m three weeks from my last day at Amazon, I want to cook things that are simple and grounding and ask nothing complicated of me, and this roasted zucchini is exactly that. It’s the kind of recipe you make when you need your hands to be busy and your mind to be quiet.
Garden Zucchini with Garlic and Herbs
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 4 medium zucchini (about 2 lbs), halved lengthwise and cut into 1/2-inch half-moons
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
- 1 tablespoon soy sauce
- 1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley or cilantro, roughly chopped
- 1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds, for garnish
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 425°F and line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. A hot oven is what turns zucchini golden instead of soggy — don’t skip the heat.
- Season the zucchini. In a large bowl, toss the zucchini pieces with olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes if using. Spread in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Do not crowd the pan — use two sheets if needed.
- Roast until golden. Roast for 18 to 22 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until the cut edges are caramelized and golden brown. The zucchini should be tender but not mushy.
- Finish with flavor. Remove from the oven and immediately drizzle with soy sauce and sesame oil. Toss gently to coat while still warm — the residual heat helps the soy sauce absorb.
- Serve. Transfer to a serving dish, scatter with fresh herbs and sesame seeds, and serve warm or at room temperature. This is equally good alongside rice, noodles, or eaten straight from the pan over the sink when no one is watching.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 135 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 380mg