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Doenjang-jjigae (Soybean paste stew), the Most Ordinary Food I Miss the Most

 

Doenjang-jjigae (Soybean paste stew), the Most Ordinary Food I Miss the Most


Doenjang-jjigae is one of the most common dishes in Korea.

We eat it often, and it is something many Korean families make at home all the time.

When you add tofu and let it bubble away, its savory smell fills the house and eventually finds its way outside.

These days, most of us live in apartments, but when I was growing up, there were still many houses in neighborhoods around Seoul.

And in the countryside where I grew up, when we were playing outside with our friends, the smell of dinner would start drifting out from houses all around the neighborhood as evening came.

Of all those smells, the one I probably smelled the most, and the dish I probably ate the most, was Doenjang-jjigae.

We would be having so much fun playing with our friends when, suddenly, Mom would come outside and call,

“Come home! Dinner’s ready!”

We would say goodbye to our friends, wishing we could play a little longer, and run home.

If someone told me they had lived in Korea and had never eaten Doenjang-jjigae even once, I think I would have a hard time believing them. Haha.


Before Doenjang-jjigae, Let Me Tell You About Doenjang (Soybean paste)


If I am going to talk about Doenjang-jjigae, I cannot leave out Doenjang itself.

Doenjang is made from Meju (fermented soybean block).

Meju is made by boiling soybeans, shaping them into blocks, tying them with straw, and hanging them up to dry and ferment.

Traditionally, soybeans were harvested in late autumn, around the beginning of winter. Meju was then made, tied with straw, and hung under the eaves to dry throughout the winter.

Around Jeongwol, the first month of the lunar calendar, people would use the Meju to make traditional fermented sauces.

When I was a child, my grandmother and mother would make Meju together at our house too.

They would hang the blocks inside one of the rooms so they could ferment.

But the smell was really strong.

And as a child, I absolutely hated it. Haha.

It had a very distinctive, musty smell. If I think about it now, it was almost a little like the smell of sweaty feet.

I probably still wouldn't like that smell today.

But when I look back at that scene, my feelings are completely different.

My mother and grandmother making Meju together.

The blocks hanging inside the room.

A whole room being used for something our family had been making for generations.

That is a scene I can never see again.

And perhaps because of that, it now feels beautiful to me.

And I miss it.


In the past, older Koreans sometimes looked at someone who was unattractive and said,

“You’re as ugly as Meju.”

For people of my generation, there was also a funny expression, “Ok-tteol-mae.”

It literally meant something like “a piece of Meju that fell from a rooftop,” and was a humorous way of saying that someone was very unattractive.

But now that I think about it, was Meju really that ugly?

When it is first made, it is shaped into a neat square block. In fact, it looks quite tidy.

Maybe people started comparing ugly things to Meju because, as time passed, it became cracked, developed a strong smell, and grew mold on the surface.

These days, we know how valuable fermented foods can be, and we see the fermentation process as something natural and even beautiful.

Back then, I don't think people looked at it quite that way.

 

Several blocks of Meju (fermented soybean blocks) tied with straw ropes hang to dry under a hanok roof.
Traditional Meju blocks hanging under the eaves to dry in the winter breeze.


Every Family’s Doenjang Tastes Different


Doenjang is fascinating to me.

It tastes different from one household to another.

And even when the same family uses the same ingredients and the same person makes it, the taste can be different every year.

Why?

Maybe because Doenjang is a food that is made together with nature.

The weather is different.

The temperature is different.

The conditions during fermentation are different.

So I like to think of Doenjang as a food made by people, but finished together with nature.

After my family moved to Seoul, my mother stopped making Doenjang and Gochujang (Red chili paste) at home.

We started buying them instead.

But after I got married, I discovered that my husband's family still lived in a house rather than an apartment.

And every year, my mother-in-law still made her own Doenjang.

Even now, there is a container of her homemade Doenjang in my refrigerator.

These days, I think being able to eat homemade Doenjang is actually a small kind of good fortune.

My mother-in-law is getting older now, and one day she told me,

“I don't think I can make it anymore.”

So I told her,

“Thank you for making it for us all these years. Please don't make it anymore. Take care of your health.”

When I look around at my friends and people around me, almost none of them make their own Doenjang anymore.

Maybe this tradition will slowly disappear with our mothers' generation.

But there is still Doenjang in my mother-in-law's earthenware jar.

Homemade Doenjang tastes different every year.

Sometimes it has a slightly musty, distinctive flavor that is hard to describe.

It is a taste that is difficult to find in commercially made Doenjang.

Sometimes I find that flavor a little strong.

But I have a feeling that someday, I will miss it very much.


A large earthenware jar filled with aged Doenjang (Soybean paste) and a wooden spoon resting in it.
Deeply aged homemade Doenjang resting inside a traditional earthenware jar.


Now I’m the One Making Doenjang-jjigae


And if every family makes Doenjang differently, then of course every family’s Doenjang-jjigae must taste different too.

So when Koreans think of Doenjang-jjigae, I imagine each person is remembering a slightly different taste.

I still make Doenjang-jjigae at least once a week.

My husband loves it.

One day, I asked him,

“What kind of food is Doenjang-jjigae to you?”

He thought for a moment and said,

“It’s my soul food.”

Haha.

These days, he has spent more years with me than he spent with his mother, so I think he likes my Doenjang-jjigae quite a lot.

But I sometimes wonder if, when we were newly married, he missed his mother’s Doenjang-jjigae more than mine.

I have one little tip when I make Doenjang-jjigae.

Try adding a little Korean radish.

It makes the broth taste so much better.

And adding Cheongyang chili peppers at the end?

That goes without saying. Haha.


For many Koreans, Doenjang-jjigae must be one of the first dishes that comes to mind when they think of Korean food.

Not because it is something we eat on special occasions.

But because it was the food that was always there.

The food Mom made without making a big deal about it.

The food whose savory smell filled the house.

And now, the food that I make for my own family.

Maybe that is exactly why Doenjang-jjigae is so special to us.

Because it was never meant to be special.

It was so ordinary that we never realized how precious it was.

Until time passed.

And then we began to miss it.

Maybe that is what Doenjang-jjigae is to many Koreans.

The food our mothers made for us more than anything else.

And perhaps, for my husband, Doenjang-jjigae is one of the foods that brings his mother to mind most of all.

Writing this has made me want to make Doenjang-jjigae for my husband today.
I’ll use plenty of my mother-in-law’s Doenjang and fill his soul with it. Haha.


A close-up of a rustic earthenware pot filled with bubbling Doenjang-jjigae (Soybean paste stew).
A steaming pot of homemade Doenjang-jjigae, bubbling with tofu and vegetables.

 

K-Food Story
Stories behind Korean food by Somang

 

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