Life is like a lunchbox of kimbap, it's given by someone who cares.
When I first strolled into E-mo's for lunch, I was first struck by how tiny this place is. The brightly colored Korean to-go joint is perhaps the size of someone's walk-in closet. A husband and wife duo, dressed in cute little aprons and hairnets, work in the small space behind the counter. Though there's no space for them to even sit or maneuver around without jostling the other, they work in perfect unison. The wife takes the order with a polite and cheery smile while the husband rolls the kimbap on bamboo mats, slices them into perfect little cylinders, and places them lovingly into a styrofoam to-go box.
Their menu features only one thing-- the kimbap. Kimbap is a rather simple entity. It's a steamed rice (not vinegared), vegetables (usually steamed spinach and pickled daikon), and some sort of meat (imitation crab meat, sausage, tuna) rolled up in nori dressed lightly with sesame oil. Think of it more as a Korean version of a sandwich than a cousin of the elegant sushi hand roll; if anything, the kimbap is more akin to the onigiri (rice ball) than sushi rolls.
And though they sell only kimbap, they have different varieties. They have the cheese roll, the squid roll, the beef roll, the mushroom roll, the tuna roll, the crab roll, and the vegetable rolls. You can even order rolls to be half and half of two different stuffings. Also, along with every roll of kimbap you buy, they also give you a complimentary bowl of soup. It's very similar to the Japanese miso-soup, but is a watered down Korean version of it with more scallions.
And considering how simple and common the kimbap is, it seems a little absurd to pay $5.50 for a roll. Because the kimbap is what every Korean mother makes for her kid's school lunch, it's a little like paying $5.50 for a non-gourmet peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.
But regardless of the price, I still stop in and order kimbap from E-mo's. More than anything, it's because getting kimbap from E-mo's is like opening the lunchbox that I never had.
Growing up in Korea, I was one of the three kids in my classroom who bought school lunches. While all my friends had adorable lunchboxes lovingly filled with delicious homemade Korean food, I had the slop, gruel, and mush special. Looking at my friend's pink plastic lunchbox packed with perfectly kimbap rolls, I remember feeling the acerbic sting of envy.
You see, my mother was too busy at her job or studying to get her MFA to be in the kitchen. And while I can never thank her enough for all the hardships she endured to be an artist, an equal breadwinner, and an inspiration to her daughter, it was a difficult for me to understand as a selfish and naive six year old.
I remember when I first ordered from E-Mo's I just wanted a quick lunch around the neighborhood and quickly opened the white to-go box without much thought. But when I looked at the roll as I was about to pick up the piece, I stopped. The kimbap, though humble as it was, looked as if it was made with love. It looked like the kimbap I dreamed of getting in my lunchbox as a six year old.
So, after gobbling down the kimbap for lunch, I called my mother. I told her "hello," but I really meant "thank you." read more