Slow Cooker Korean Beef

Memorial Day weekend. The unofficial start of summer, the first barbecue, the holiday that America uses to pivot from spring to summer mode. David's grill was out, as always — the annual Memorial Day deployment of the Weber, cleaned and oiled and ready for service. But this year, I came with a plan: Korean barbecue on David's grill. Not the cast-iron-on-the-stove version I've been making in my condo. Real Korean barbecue, over real charcoal, in a Bellevue backyard, with galbi and samgyeopsal and all the fixings.

I prepped everything Saturday night: galbi marinated overnight in soy, sugar, sesame, garlic, pear, and ginger; pork belly sliced thin and salted; lettuce for wraps; ssamjang and gochujang for dipping; kimchi (mine, naturally); pickled radish; scallion salad. I packed it all in a cooler and drove to Bellevue on Monday morning, and David's face when he saw the spread was — I want to say "delighted," but David doesn't do delighted. His face said: "This is a significant quantity of meat that I did not have to purchase or prepare, and there will be fire involved." David face. Grillmaster face. The face of a man who has found his holiday purpose.

David grilled the Korean meat with the same precision he applies to everything: consistent heat, proper timing, careful turning. The galbi charred beautifully over the Weber's coals, the marinade caramelizing into a sweet-salty crust. The pork belly crisped and rendered and curled, just like it does in Korean BBQ restaurants. David ate galbi wraps — lettuce, meat, ssamjang, garlic, kimchi — and after the third one, he looked at me and said, "This might be the best thing we've ever grilled." David Park. Boeing engineer. Lifelong burger man. Calling Korean galbi the best thing we've ever grilled. If I could frame that moment and hang it on the wall, I would. It's the moment when Korean food stopped being my thing and became our thing. Family food. Park family food. American-Korean Park family food.

Kevin FaceTimed during the barbecue. He watched us eat Korean BBQ at the Bellevue table and said, "Save me some!" He was half-joking and half-serious, the way Kevin is about everything — the humor is real but the hunger underneath is real too. I said, "Come up for Fourth of July. I'll make everything again." He said, "Deal." Kevin committed. To a date, to a trip, to Korean BBQ in Bellevue. A year ago he couldn't commit to anything more than a week out. Now he's committing to July. Sobriety has given Kevin something I couldn't give him: a future tense. He has plans now. He makes deals. He shows up.

After the barbecue, while David was cleaning the grill with the meticulous care of a man maintaining aerospace equipment, Karen and I sat on the back porch. She said, "I've been thinking about your trip to Korea." I waited. She said, "I want you to know that whatever you find there — or don't find — it doesn't change anything here. You are my daughter. You have always been my daughter. Geography doesn't change that." I reached for her hand. She held mine. The porch was quiet except for the sound of David scrubbing the grill grate and the birds in the rhododendrons and the hum of a Bellevue afternoon in late May, and my mother's hand was warm and certain and I believed her. Geography doesn't change it. Korea doesn't change it. Nothing changes it. I am Karen's daughter. I am also someone else's daughter. And I am going to Korea in September to find out what that means.

The galbi David grilled that Monday — charred and caramelized and sweet-salty over Weber coals — set a standard I’m not sure I can top. But I can chase it on a Tuesday night, when there’s no backyard and no charcoal and no David wielding tongs with Boeing-engineer precision. This slow cooker Korean beef uses the same backbone as that overnight galbi marinade — soy, brown sugar, sesame, garlic, fresh ginger, and grated pear — and lets time do what the grill did: break everything down into something deeply savory and a little sweet and completely ours. It’s what I make when I want to taste that Monday again without waiting for summer.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 6 to 8 hours | Total Time: 6 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 1/2 pounds beef chuck roast, trimmed and cut into 3-inch chunks
1/3 cup low-sodium soy sauce
3 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
1/2 Asian pear (or Bosc pear), peeled and grated (about 1/3 cup)
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
1 teaspoon gochugaru (Korean red pepper flakes), or 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 teaspoon rice wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon sesame seeds, for serving
4 scallions, thinly sliced, for serving
Cooked short-grain white rice, for serving

Instructions

Make the marinade. In a medium bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, brown sugar, sesame oil, grated pear, garlic, ginger, gochugaru, rice wine vinegar, and black pepper until the sugar is mostly dissolved.
Load the slow cooker. Place the beef chunks in the slow cooker insert in a single layer as much as possible. Pour the marinade over the beef, turning the pieces to coat.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 7 to 8 hours, or on HIGH for 5 to 6 hours, until the beef is very tender and pulls apart easily with two forks.
Shred and reduce. Use two forks to shred the beef directly in the slow cooker. If the sauce is thinner than you’d like, transfer it to a small saucepan and simmer over medium-high heat for 5 to 8 minutes until slightly reduced and glossy, then pour back over the meat.
Serve. Spoon the Korean beef and its sauce over bowls of hot white rice. Top generously with sliced scallions and sesame seeds. Serve with kimchi and pickled radish on the side if you have them.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow Cooker Korean Beef — The Flavors That Made It Ours