by Natalie “Lee” Arneson
As the cold begins to truly set in this November, I find myself craving a hot cup of tea more than any one dish. When the weather changes, my appetite tends to fluctuate between craving some specific food I don’t have or not finding anything appetizing at all. One constant in the cold weather, though, is that I’ll always want a hot cup of coffee or tea. One such tea that made up the majority of autumn and winter days for me was my dad’s honey-lemon-ginger tea. As someone with an admittedly weak immune system, the colder months held at least two weeks of sickness for me, and one of my dad’s fixes was the aforementioned tea. This tea didn’t come pre-prepared or store-bought; it was a process of gathering each ingredient and combining them into a mug. I remember being shorter than I am now (which at only 5’2” is quite the feat, or lack of), standing on my tiptoes, watching my Dad as he prepared each part. First, he’d get the honey from the cupboard and put about half a spoonful into the mug before pouring in boiling water. Next would be the ginger root from the fridge, which he’d cut into small slices, the skin shaved off with the knife. Then, he’d grab a lemon and cut off a small wedge. After the juice was squeezed into the mug the rind would follow. FInally, he’d mix it all together, then present me with the steaming tea and the age-old caution, “careful, it’s hot.” The tea was satisfying in a way food wasn’t—especially on those cold, fever-chill days—and store bought lemon-ginger tea just doesn’t hold a candle to my dad’s home-made remedy.
Of course, this wouldn’t be Feeding the Diaspora without at least a snack to accompany the tea. A favorite treat of mine is yakgwa (약과). Yakgwa is a type of wheat-based Korean confection—a Korean donut, if you will—typically made with honey, cheongju, sesame oil, and ginger juice, giving the treat a unique flavor that I can’t find in anything else. Now, these weren’t a childhood food for me, my sister and I stumbling across them in high school, but every autumn since I find myself craving them. Traditionally, they were only for the noble class or used specifically for special occasions (such as the Lunar New Year) since the ingredients used to make the yakgwa were once a large expense. Now, you can find them in a Boo Han or H Mart—even our very own Arirang on Martin Way. The confections are fairly identifiable as most are shaped to look like flowers, but the best ones will come saran wrapped on a styrofoam plate. Yakgwa itself is something of a home remedy, the direct translation meaning ‘medicinal confectionery.’ The ‘medicinal’ is in reference to the honey used to make yakgwa since honey was and has been used in medicinal practices in Korea and other parts of the world. So, when the cold weather of the Pacific Northwest starts to get a little too frosty, I find myself turning to Dad’s honey-lemon-ginger tea and some yakgwa to go with it.
