The next day, she opens the refrigerator and presses her fingers against the thawed package of pork belly. She wants to boil it as her grandmother would, but doesn't quite know how to. She texts her parents for instructions.
Her father promptly calls, but it isn't his voice.
"Hi it's me," says a familiar female voice.
"Mom! I had the weirdest dream last night," she immediately starts to chatter away about what may be considered the most mundane thing to tell another person.
"No, it's me, your aunt!" This is the aunt who raised her while her parents had to return to Korea without her. Thinking about her brings a feeling of warmth and softness. Maybe because that's how her hugs feel. She gives detailed instructions on how to cook the pork belly.
Pork belly
(this one is 1.3lb, or "the size of two of your fists put together," her aunt confirms)
A can of beer
(more the better? Anyway, she uses two cans)
One whole bulb of garlic
("the size of your pinky," as her aunt describes)
Tablespoon of salt
Ground pepper
One onion
Jalapeno
(may be replaced by a couple of unidentified chilies available at the commissary)
After poking around and slicing enough to verify that the meat is thoroughly cooked, she tries a piece of the pork belly. It is perfect. She eats another piece with some kimchi and remembers that there is one thing missing: a piece of fermented stinger. That would complete the trio of a delightful Korean dish.
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