Paprika Pork — The Warmth We Carry Into a New Year

The week between Christmas and New Year's. My favorite week. The week when the world slows down and expectations dissolve and you can eat leftovers for every meal and nobody judges you. I spent it nesting — a word I used to think was a metaphor and now understand is a biological imperative. I organized the baby's corner of the bedroom. I folded Jisoo's jogakbo quilt and placed it in the crib David built. I arranged the onesies from Tess by size. I hung the tiny hanbok Jisoo sent on a child-sized hanger in the closet. The closet now contains: my clothes, James's clothes, and a single infant-sized Korean traditional garment. The juxtaposition is everything.

James and I spent New Year's Eve on the couch, eating tteokguk — rice cake soup, the traditional New Year's food — and watching a movie that I fell asleep during at 10:30 PM. James woke me at midnight. He said, "Happy New Year. It's 2024. The year we become parents." I said, "The year we become parents." I said it like a fact. I said it like a prayer. I said it like a sentence I had been practicing in my head for months and was finally allowed to say out loud.

2023 in review: I got married (well, we were married in 2022, but 2023 was the first full year of marriage). I was promoted to Principal Engineer. I launched Banchan Labs. I went to Busan. I got pregnant. I learned the sex. I learned the name. I built a nursery in a corner of a bedroom. The year was enormous. The year was the kind of year that, when you look back on it, you realize was a hinge — the year everything pivoted, the year the old life ended and the new life began, even though the ending and beginning happened gradually, imperceptibly, one doenjang jjigae at a time.

Jisoo's New Year's letter arrived Friday. She wrote about her wishes for 2024: "I wish for Hana to be born healthy. I wish to hold her. I wish to cook for her. I wish to teach her the things I could not teach you. I wish for many years of cooking together — you, me, and Hana — in my kitchen, in your kitchen, in kitchens we have not yet found." She signed it: "Your mother, Jisoo." Your mother. Not "birth mother." Not "biological mother." Not any qualifier. Just: your mother. The pronoun shift — from careful distance to simple claim — has taken five years. It is complete. She is my mother. She has always been my mother. The paperwork just took a while.

The recipe this week is tteokguk — the rice cake soup for the New Year, the soup that ages you by one year in the Korean count. Beef broth, clear and rich. Sliced rice cakes, soaked and simmered until soft. Egg strands. Dried seaweed. Scallion greens. A drizzle of sesame oil. I ate two bowls. Hana ate two bowls, through me. We are both one year older now, by Korean count. I am thirty-one in Korean age. Hana is one, which is the Korean tradition: you are one the day you are born, because the nine months in the womb count. Hana is one. She is already one. She has already begun.

The week after New Year’s, with Hana already measuring her first Korean year and Jisoo’s letter still sitting on the counter, I wanted to keep cooking — to keep that feeling of warmth and intention alive in the kitchen. Tteokguk was the ritual; this paprika pork was the exhale that followed. It’s the kind of recipe that asks almost nothing of you and gives back something deeply satisfying: a rich, rust-colored pan sauce, tender meat, and the kind of smell that makes a quiet apartment feel full. I made it two nights into January, standing at the stove in my third trimester, and it felt exactly right.

Paprika Pork

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs pork shoulder or pork tenderloin, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
• 2 tablespoons sweet paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 cup chicken broth
• 1/2 cup sour cream, room temperature
• 1 tablespoon tomato paste
• Fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped, for garnish

Instructions

1. Season the pork. In a large bowl, toss the pork cubes with sweet paprika, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, a generous pinch of salt, and several grinds of black pepper until evenly coated.
2. Sear in batches. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in two batches to avoid crowding, sear the pork cubes 2—3 minutes per side until deeply browned. Transfer seared pork to a plate and set aside.
3. Soften the onion. Reduce heat to medium. Add the sliced onion to the same pan and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and beginning to caramelize, about 6—8 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more.
4. Build the sauce. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for 1 minute. Pour in the chicken broth and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Return the seared pork to the skillet along with any accumulated juices.
5. Simmer until tender. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 20—25 minutes until the pork is cooked through and the sauce has thickened slightly.
6. Finish with sour cream. Remove the pan from heat and stir in the sour cream until fully incorporated and the sauce is creamy. Taste and adjust seasoning. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve over egg noodles, rice, or crusty bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 30g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 430mg