Old-Fashioned Wilted Lettuce

A quiet week. A gathering week. The video call is being scheduled for the second week of September, pending translator availability. Jisoo has asked if it can be on a Saturday morning her time, which is Friday evening mine. I said yes. I said any time. She said the morning is better because she will have slept. I said, "I will probably not sleep."

I am preparing mentally. I am preparing practically. I ordered a better webcam for the laptop — I want her to see me clearly. I have been thinking about what to wear. This is the kind of detail that matters in ways that are hard to justify. I will wear a sweater. A sweater is a thing you wear at home. I want her to see me at home.

I have been thinking about what to say. I have a list now, in my notebook, of things I want to make sure I say in the first call. The list has grown to three pages. Dr. Yoon said, "You may not get to all of them. That's okay. You will have many calls." She said "many calls" with such confidence. I clung to that.

I made miyeokguk on Tuesday. Seaweed soup. It is the birthday soup in Korea — you eat it on your birthday to honor your mother, who ate it when she was recovering from giving birth to you. I have never made miyeokguk before because it felt presumptuous. It felt like a dish that required permission from a mother I did not have. Now I have a mother. Now I have permission. I dried seaweed, soaked it, sautéed it in sesame oil with beef, simmered it in stock with soy and garlic. The broth comes out green-gray and mineral-deep and plain in a way that is the opposite of flashy. It tastes like a slow inheritance. Jisoo ate this after I was born, the letter from the agency said. She was in a small hospital in Gangnam-gu. Her mother had sent her a jar of miyeokguk and Jisoo ate it alone. I ate my pot of miyeokguk at my kitchen counter, alone at first, and then James sat down with a bowl and joined me, and we ate in silence, and it was one of the most sacred meals of my life.

Karen's medication has been recalibrated. The new dose is better. She sounded like herself on Sunday's phone call — sharp, funny, teasing David about his terrible cooking. She said, "Tell Jisoo hi from me when you talk to her." I laughed. I said, "Mom, I don't know if that's protocol." Karen said, "There isn't a protocol. Make it up. Tell her hi from me." I said, "Okay. I will."

I wrote Jisoo on Friday and told her Karen said hi. Jisoo wrote back: "Tell her thank you. Tell her I have been praying for her since you told me about the diagnosis. Tell her I am grateful to her. Tell her everything I would say if we ever met, which I hope we do." I told Karen those things on Sunday. Karen cried. David said, "For God's sake, the two of you," and got up to make tea.

Dr. Yoon: we are ready. I am ready. The call is coming. I will be fine.

The recipe this week is miyeokguk. The slow, mineral, green-gray birthday soup that marks the bond between a mother and a child. Made for the first time by me, a thirty-year-old woman, for my birth mother who is still on the other side of an ocean. Not yet served to her. But made. Made in her honor. Made in preparation.

The miyeokguk took most of Tuesday’s attention, but James and I needed something alongside it — something equally unassuming, a dish that wouldn’t compete with the weight the soup was already carrying. I made this old-fashioned wilted lettuce the way it’s always been made: hot bacon drippings poured straight over the bowl, the leaves going soft and a little translucent at the edges, nothing fancy. It felt right for a week like this one — a week of heritage and preparation and meals that say more in silence than words ever could.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

8 cups leaf lettuce, torn (about 1 large head)
4 slices bacon
3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
3 green onions, thinly sliced

Instructions

Prep the greens. Wash and thoroughly dry the torn lettuce leaves. Place in a large heat-safe serving bowl and scatter the sliced green onions over the top.
Cook the bacon. In a skillet over medium heat, cook the bacon until crisp, about 8 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to drain. Leave the drippings in the pan.
Build the warm dressing. Reduce the heat to low. Add the apple cider vinegar, sugar, salt, and pepper directly to the reserved drippings, stirring to combine. Heat until the mixture just begins to bubble, about 1 minute.
Wilt the lettuce. Immediately pour the hot dressing over the bowl of lettuce and toss gently. The leaves will soften and wilt slightly at the edges while staying tender at the center.
Finish and serve. Crumble the cooked bacon over the top. Serve right away while still warm — this dish does not hold.

Nutrition (per serving)

Old-Fashioned Wilted Lettuce — A Simple Green for the Week I Made Miyeokguk