The most recent South Korean series I’ve been watching on Netflix is a romantic drama called Chocolate. It’s made up of sixteen hour-long episodes and tells a love story that crosses decades and starts and ends with food, especially chocolate. A boy prepares a meal for a girl when she’s starving, and that sends her on a lifelong journey of feeding others, both to relive the kindness she received and to pay it forward. It feels like the boy transferred his love of cooking to the girl, as if a piece of his soul was grafted onto hers.
There’s a sense of ceremony and ritual to the cooking in this series as we watch her sift and chop and snip and stir. And watching the way people receive and enjoy her food is satisfying, even when the particular foods she makes don’t appeal to me (Ahem, kimchi. There’s a kimchi section at my local HMart that always looks so inviting, and I keep trying different dishes hoping to find something with a spice level I can tolerate, but that hasn’t happened yet.
She constructs her dishes with an awareness of how they look and smell and feel and sound, like colorful flowers deep fried and added to the plate, for crunch and color, or a cherry blossom roll where you can see the blossom in the center. And I love the way slurping is encouraged rather than frowned upon. Throughout the series, the chef tries to recapture people’s memories with her food, and then relies on chocolate, baked into cakes, molded into designs, or eaten as is, to remind her that there is reason to hope and to hold on, even when she’s at her lowest.
Watching episode after episode of this show has been inspiring but has also reminded me of how little energy I’ve had for cooking over the past few years. I can’t stand at the counter long enough to chop and mix and sauté; one minute at the sink leaves me feeling like there’s a cleaver in my back, two minutes in front of the chopping board and my vision starts to swirl. And yet, I can watch this fictional chef prepare dish after dish for hours without feeling any pain, and I feel taken care of, by osmosis. She reminds me of how I felt when I was little, watching my mother make dinner, peering over the counter to see what she would add next.
I spent many years trying to learn how to cook satisfying food for myself. I took cooking classes and baking classes and cake decorating classes, and I made soups and pastas and dumplings and cakes, but it never felt good enough. I worked so hard to try to feel joy in making the food, but in the end it just felt like work, often tedious and thankless, resulting in food that still disappointed me. Something always seemed to be missing from the final product; something I couldn’t name and couldn’t recreate.
But this fictional chef is able to share some essential element of herself with others through her food, and yet never seems to be diminished by how much she gives away. I wish I could believe that by studying her recipes and techniques I could discover the secret ingredient I keep missing in my own cooking, whether it’s fish paste or a certain way of slicing the onions or some ineffable quality that she infuses into the process from her soul.
The reality is, I don’t go hungry; and I don’t lack joy in my life, or even in the food I eat. But there is always this slight bitterness, this inkling that something is missing, something I need and want and can’t seem to find. I may have to rewatch all sixteen episodes to see if I can figure out what I’m missing; or maybe one day, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to find it within myself.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my Young Adult novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 
The wonder of the art of film to create those impressions with neither taste, touch or smell. I don’t think many of us have found a real love for cooking. I would rather write or do gardening, but enjoy cooking just enough to try and make a meal that’s good.
I will continue to try!
You might try the film Mostly Martha, my favorite film about food and love, loss and recovery.
Sounds great! Thanks for the recommendation!
Ha, we share a dislike of kimchi. My Thai stepmom, Tippy was an accomplished cook probably like the female protagonist of the TV show. Her cooking was highly esteemed by everyone who ever ate meals with us. What was interesting in Tippy’s case, she went to all sorts of bother to create gourmet quality dishes, but she rarely ate much of them herself. She made everything for the enjoyment of others. We always had to coax Tippy to at least eat a little bit of everything to share in the love. Tippy said her secret ingredient was the happiness of other people. Whenever she cooked for herself, the dishes were basic and simple. The only times she enjoyed eating fancy foods were when we took her out to restaurants to celebrate her. Oh yes, Tippy hated kimchi, too. We used to laugh uproariously about how disgusting the substance tasted to us.
I hope she enjoyed the cooking as much as people enjoyed eating her food. Is their kimchi in Thai food?
Tippy loved cooking; it was her favorite creative activity. No, traditional rural Thai cooking does not use kimchi.
Kimchi and Kombucha…two foods that are supposed to be good for you, but I cannot make myself even try. Pass the chocolate, Rachel. We’re good.
Chocolate totally qualifies as health food. We’re set!
After years of cooking and trying different things, I now have a way of eating which makes me feel good and which is easy. Cooking and eating meat is relatively easy and it’s satisfying. I’m back to high school weight and I feel better than I have in decades.
That’s wonderful!
Freakin’ microwaves and toaster ovens Rachel, my extent. Wonderful read as always though I think I might be a few posts behind. I need to catch up.
Thank you!
I love cooking. I love the whole process of buying ingredients for my chosen recipes and preparing them. I find a weekend in the kitchen very relaxing while I batch cook. Of course I cook to feed people and am delighted when they enjoy what I’ve prepared. I’ll work on recipes until I’m happy with the final result. I once spent six months perfecting my pain d’épices.
That sounds wonderful!
I can’t tolerate spice anymore…don’t much care for kimchi but have no issue with it’s German cousin Sour Kraut. Yeah slurping is definitely a thing of respect in some Asian countries.
I think we should slurp more in the U.S.
Made us think about Chocolat, the 2000 film with Juliette Binoche. Thanks for the Korean Chocolate tip!
Loved that movie!
I love to cook and, even more, love to shop for ingredients.
Food shopping is one of my favorite things!
Sounds like a very interesting series. The idea that food translates to a form of love is something that has always been a part of my life, passed down from my Polish grandmother. I love to cook for my family and share recipes on my blog, but if I’m just feeding myself I’d rather skip the effort and make a sandwich. So maybe the series isn’t about the food, but the connections she is making through her cooking.
I love that idea!
I don’t think cooking is for everyone. I”ve always lived by the quote, “I cook to live, not live to cook.” I love that my husband loves to cook and even loves to make it look extra appealing. And I love that when I do cook, he always makes me feel like it was good.
He’s a good one. I bet Lucy would be a great chef, if she had hands.
Nah, she’d just eat all the ingredients, LOL!
I remember my mother’s making the most delicious fudge I ever ate. I can still smell it, taste it, enjoy it.
But I always wish I could have it one more time.
Those early memories are so powerful.
adding it to my list!!!!
Food is in the air. There have beeen so many posts where food is at least a tangential component. I love to cook and to share my cooking. I honestly believe it is one of the most intimate gifts we can give. Truly.
That’s wonderful!
I’ve tried to like kimchi but I, too, can’t tolerate the kick. And yes on the slurping- when I lived in Japan I never appreciated the cultural love of the slurp but there it was!
I think it’s just about the sound of joy!
This sounds like a show I’d like; I love shows and books about food. I like cooking and I’m satisfied with the food I make, but like you, I don’t have the time or energy to do any complicated cooking.
Just watching her cook is incredible!
This is incredible l like this
Thank you!
Really beautifully written! It looks like I’ll have to try this drama now 🙂 There’s a Japanese drama with similar themes and aesthetic which I think you’d enjoy. It’s called The Makanai: Cooking for the Maiko House.
Thank you for the recommendation!