Jjajangmyeon rings a different bell for me than it did 10 years ago. My idea of jajangmyeon today involves wrestling a packet of jjapaghetti out of my 16-case box since I was too lazy to cook an actual meal that evening. I throw the dry noodles into some boiling water with some vegetable flakes and chunjang, and watch as the noodles become dark and rich and absorb the sauce, and the scent of sweet and savory chunjang tickles my nose. Within four minutes, I have a tasty, respectable bowl of jajangmyeon seated on my desk to keep me comfy for a long night of work.
Jajangmyeon, a Korean dish inspired and based upon Northern Chinese zhájiàngmiàn (炸酱面), involves long wheat noodles topped with a black bean paste chunjang, vegetables and diced pork (my jjapaghetti packets may have been missing a few pieces). The sweet and savory scent and taste of the dish travelled from Shandong in China at the beginning of the 20th century and made its way to Incheon, an area that would later develop into Incheon Chinatown. The population there decided to add their own sweet additions such as caramel, and the dish would develop into the sweet and savory jajangmyeon.
Post-Korean War, jajangmyeon was a rather expensive dish. For most of the late 1900s, Jajangmyeon was a dish to celebrate occasions like graduations and birthdays. Today, jajangmyeon is nowhere near as exclusive or luxurious; in Korea, you can find jajangmyeon at just about any restaurant, you can even have it delivered to your home, office, or anywhere else. Jajangmyeon has become a staple dish of any household, but still holds that same special feeling every time you slurp up some noodles and end up with chunjang all over your face.
While it’s mostly been packets of dried noodles and packaged chunjang for me these past few years, I remember the rich feeling of having a hot bowl of thick noodles, juicy pork, and freshly cut vegetables on the Soban. Sitting down on the soft wooden floor with a steamy bowl of jajangmyeon , and the heat flowing through the bottom of the table as if it’s seated right on my lap. I’d eat and slurp with the aroma filling the room and the noodles filling my stomach, and would be left with the most satisfying warmth.
My mom always made me jajangmyeon; we weren’t too focused on any occasions or special moments for jajangmyeon, but my mom recognized how my eyes lit up whenever she decided its jajangmyeon for dinner, or even when she got lazy and decided we were going to order in. I know the atmosphere will be sweet and warm, and my stomach and that of those around me will be full and satisfied.
It’s been about seven years since I’ve last been to Korea. It’s hard to imagine if I would ever get that homely feeling of a hearty bowl of jajangmyeon filling my apartment in the noisy middle of Seoul. But I’m certain this chapagetti seated on my desk will keep me warm.
