Korean Pulled Pork Tacos

One week. Seven days. I wake up at 5:30 and the first thought is: seven days. I go to bed at 10 and the last thought is: six days. The countdown has become my heartbeat.

Final trip preparation this week. Passport — check. Boarding passes printed (Mai doesn't trust digital boarding passes, and honestly, I don't either). Hotel confirmed: a small boutique hotel in District 1, walking distance to the Ben Thanh Market. Duc's contact information saved in my phone and written on a piece of paper in my wallet because technology fails and paper doesn't. Two thousand dollars in cash, converted to Vietnamese dong (the exchange rate is approximately 24,000 dong to the dollar, which means I am technically a multi-millionaire in dong, a fact I have shared with no one because it is not as impressive as it sounds).

The photo album is in my carry-on. Mai's walker — the one she's been using since the COVID recovery — is checked as medical equipment. I packed three of my new collared shirts, two pairs of khakis, and my usual shorts-and-T-shirt combination because I refuse to be uncomfortable for ten straight days. Linh inspected my suitcase and added a nicer belt, which I did not know I needed and am still skeptical about.

Mai called Sunday. She said, "Bobby. Am I going to be okay?" I said, "Yes." She said, "How do you know?" I said, "Because you survived a boat in the South China Sea with a baby in your belly and no food for three days. Saigon in 2023 has air conditioning and street food." She was quiet. Then she said, "Okay." One word. But it was the right one.

I made one last meal before the trip: a simple bowl of pho. Not Mai's recipe — mine. The broth is similar but I char the ginger differently and I add a cinnamon stick that she doesn't use and I let the star anise go longer than she does. It's my pho, built on her foundation but with my own additions. I ate it standing at the kitchen counter and thought: in five days I'll eat pho in Saigon. The place where this soup was born. The place where my mother was born. The place where everything started.

Went to the AA meeting Tuesday. Told the group I'd be gone for two weeks. Bill said, "Bobby Tran is going to Vietnam." The room clapped. I said, "It's not for me. It's for my mother." Bill said, "It's for both of you." He was right. He usually is.

The pho I made that night was mine — built on my mother’s foundation, but with my own hand in it — and it reminded me that cooking has always been how I process what I can’t say out loud. These Korean Pulled Pork Tacos are another version of that same instinct: a slow-cooked dish that rewards patience, layers flavor the way memory layers meaning, and tastes like something earned. I made a batch the night before I started packing. It felt right — bold, warm, a little complicated, and absolutely worth the wait.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 8 hrs | Total Time: 8 hrs 20 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 1/2 lbs boneless pork shoulder, trimmed and cut into 3-inch chunks
3 tablespoons gochujang (Korean chili paste)
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons sesame oil
2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth
16 small corn tortillas, warmed
1 cup kimchi, roughly chopped, for serving
4 green onions, thinly sliced, for serving
1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves, for serving
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds, for serving
Sriracha or chili oil, to taste, for serving

Instructions

Make the marinade. In a large bowl, whisk together the gochujang, soy sauce, sesame oil, brown sugar, rice vinegar, garlic, ginger, and black pepper until smooth and fully combined.
Coat the pork. Add the pork shoulder chunks to the bowl and toss until every piece is thoroughly coated. For best results, cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or overnight.
Slow cook. Transfer the pork and all marinade to a slow cooker. Pour in the chicken broth. Cover and cook on LOW for 7 to 8 hours, or on HIGH for 4 to 5 hours, until the pork is completely tender and pulls apart easily with a fork.
Shred and reduce. Remove the pork to a cutting board and shred with two forks, discarding any large fat pieces. Skim excess fat from the cooking liquid, then pour 1/2 cup of the liquid back over the shredded pork and toss to coat and keep it moist.
Warm the tortillas. Heat tortillas one at a time in a dry skillet over medium-high heat for about 30 seconds per side, or wrap in a damp paper towel and microwave for 45 seconds.
Assemble and serve. Pile a generous spoonful of pulled pork onto each tortilla. Top with chopped kimchi, green onions, cilantro, and a sprinkle of sesame seeds. Add sriracha or chili oil to taste. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Korean Pulled Pork Tacos — The Last Meal Before Everything Changes