← Back to Blog

Sesame Noodles — The Side Dish That Felt Like Coming Home on a Pandemic Memorial Day

Late May. Memorial Day — usually the Korean BBQ holiday at David's grill. This year: no gathering. The grill stays covered. The galbi stays unmarinated. The first Memorial Day in four years without Korean BBQ at the Park family grill. The absence is a specific grief — not the big grief of death or loss but the small grief of missed traditions, the gaps in the calendar where family should be and is not.

Instead: James and I grilled samgyeopsal on our apartment balcony (the balcony is the size of a bath mat but fits a portable grill). The smoke alarm went off twice (tradition, even in a pandemic). We ate samgyeopsal wraps standing on the balcony, watching the empty Fremont streets, the pork belly char exactly right, the ssamjang from my homemade gochujang (which is now six months old and extraordinary — deep, complex, the long fermentation producing a richness that commercial gochujang cannot match).

I FaceTimed Karen while we grilled. She watched on the screen and said, "Next year, at the house." Next year. The promise of future gathering. The confidence that the pandemic will end and the grill will be uncovered and the galbi will be marinated and the family will eat together at a Bellevue table instead of through a screen. Next year. The hope is the holiday.

Kevin called from Portland. Bridge City is surviving — barely. Revenue is down 40% but the online subscription service is keeping the lights on. Kevin sounds steady. Three and a half years sober. Lisa beside him. The shop standing. The man standing. The standing, in a year of falling, is everything.

The ssamjang from my six-month gochujang was doing real work that night, and somewhere between the second smoke alarm and the FaceTime call with Karen, I realized the pork belly needed a companion — something with sesame and depth that could sit alongside the char without fighting it. These sesame noodles are what I reached for: simple enough for a bath-mat balcony operation, but rich enough to feel like a proper meal when the family table isn’t available. A little gochujang stirred into the sauce, and suddenly the next-year promise felt close enough to taste.

Sesame Noodles

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

Ingredients

  • 8 oz lo mein noodles or spaghetti
  • 3 tablespoons soy sauce
  • 2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
  • 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon gochujang (or chili garlic sauce)
  • 1 tablespoon honey or brown sugar
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
  • 2 green onions, thinly sliced
  • 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
  • 1/2 cucumber, julienned (optional)
  • 1/4 cup shredded carrots (optional)

Instructions

  1. Cook the noodles. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook noodles according to package directions until just tender. Drain and rinse briefly with cold water to stop cooking.
  2. Make the sesame sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar, gochujang, honey, minced garlic, and grated ginger until smooth and well combined.
  3. Toss and coat. Add the drained noodles to a large bowl. Pour the sesame sauce over the noodles and toss well to coat every strand evenly.
  4. Add fresh toppings. Fold in julienned cucumber and shredded carrots if using. Taste and adjust seasoning — add more soy sauce for salt, more gochujang for heat, or a splash more vinegar for brightness.
  5. Garnish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl or individual plates. Top with sliced green onions and toasted sesame seeds. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled alongside grilled pork belly or as a standalone dish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 720mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 202 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?