I’ve been thinking a lot about the connection between food and memory—how some meals stay with you long after the taste is gone.
For me, the very first memory I have is, oddly enough, about food. And it’s also the only memory I have of my birth mother.
I must have been around three years old. I stood there sobbing as I watched my two older sisters run off into the forest to gather chestnuts—chestnuts that grew wild and sweet, a seasonal delight. I wasn’t allowed to go. I was too young.
And like so many moments in my early life, my sisters were everything. We clung to each other—not just out of love, but out of survival. We took care of one another because no one else would. That made the devastation of them going off without me even harder.
But my mother saw me. She didn’t tell me to stop crying or try to make it better with words. She just stood with me, held my hand, and let me feel sad. Then she scooped me up, brushed the tears from my face, and whispered that we’d go do something special—just the two of us.
She took me to a small neighborhood eatery—modest, quiet, warm. There, we shared a bowl of jajangmyeon .
The noodles were thick and slippery, drenched in a black bean sauce that clung to everything—chopsticks, bowls, my face. It was salty and sweet and warm in my belly, the kind of food that makes you feel full in all the right ways.
That moment—the comfort, the attention, the warm food—I’ve never forgotten it. And it remains the only memory I have of my birth mother.
I’ve been told I look like her. That there’s something in my face, maybe in the eyes or the shape of my mouth, that reminds people of her. I hold on to that, even though I have no memory of it myself. No mental picture, no voice. Just this moment—her hand in mine, a bowl of noodles between us.
Whenever I eat or even smell jajangmyeon, it brings me right back to Korea. That moment flashes in my mind. The way the sauce clung to the noodles. The way her hand felt holding mine.
Do you ever eat something and it brings you right back home?
This, and so many other smells and tastes, make me think: “This tastes like Korea.”
Now, as a mother myself…
I think about what it meant for her to take me to that meal. Maybe she just wanted to comfort me. Or maybe, she knew she wouldn’t have many more moments like that.
Either way, she gave me something I’ve carried all my life.
And this morning—decades later, in a different country, with my own child—I paused work, made Logan breakfast (scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, French toast, and berries), and sat on the kitchen floor with him.
We had a little picnic right there on the kitchen floor.
Ten minutes later, he was back to his video games.
But I sat there a little longer, thinking about how food creates these small pockets of connection. They don’t have to last long to matter.
I don’t know if Logan will remember that moment. Just like I don’t remember my birth mother’s face.
But I remember the feeling. The warmth of her hand. The comfort of noodles between us.
And maybe, that’s what love looks like when you don’t have many words or time—just one small bowl, and everything it holds.
What Is Jajangmyeon?
Jajangmyeon (짜장면) is one of the most beloved comfort foods in South Korea. Originally introduced by Chinese immigrants in the early 1900s, it evolved into a uniquely Korean dish now considered a nostalgic staple.
It’s made with thick wheat noodles smothered in a rich black bean sauce (chunjang) that’s stir-fried with pork, onions, and zucchini or potatoes. It’s messy, satisfying, and deeply comforting.
You’ll find it everywhere—from casual eateries to quick delivery meals, and even on Black Day (April 14), when singles in Korea gather to eat jajangmyeon in solidarity.
It’s the kind of food that brings people together, no matter the occasion.
And for many of us, food means more than just nourishment. It means connection. Memory. Comfort. Celebration. Belonging.
Which is why we created DIGEST—not just as a tea, but as a way to reclaim your joy around food.
Because food should fill us, not frustrate us. Because meals should be memorable, not miserable. Because sharing food with people you love should never come with a side of discomfort.
DIGEST helps make those moments possible. So you can keep making memories—one meal at a time.
Traditional Jajangmyeon (Black Bean Noodles) — Gluten-Free Option Included!
A comforting Korean-Chinese classic, perfect for family meals or cozy nights in.
Ingredients:
- 2 servings of noodles — Use Korean jjajangmyeon wheat noodles, or for a gluten-free option, try thick rice noodles like Three Ladies Brand Vietnamese Rice Stick
- 1/2 lb pork belly or shoulder, diced (or substitute with firm tofu or beef)
- 1 small zucchini, diced
- 1 small potato, peeled and diced
- 1/2 cup cabbage, chopped
- 1/2 onion, chopped
- 2 tbsp neutral oil (we prefer avocado oil but traditionally vegetable oil is used)
- 2–3 tbsp Korean black bean paste (chunjang) — gluten-free versions are available!
- 1 tsp sugar
- 1 cup water or broth of your choice
- 1 tsp cornstarch + 1 tbsp water (slurry)
- Optional: cucumber matchsticks, green peas, or green onions for garnish
Instructions:
- Cook noodles according to package instructions. If using rice noodles, soak and simmer as directed until chewy but tender. Drain, rinse, and set aside.
- In a wok or skillet, heat oil over medium heat. Cook pork until browned.
- Add vegetables and stir-fry 3–5 minutes until softened.
- Push everything to the side of the pan. Add black bean paste to the center and sauté it briefly to reduce bitterness.
- Stir together, add sugar and broth, and simmer for 8–10 minutes.
- Add cornstarch slurry and stir until the sauce thickens.
- Pour sauce over the noodles and garnish. Serve warm.
Want to Share a Memory?
Maybe your first memory isn’t tied to food like mine. Or maybe it is.
Maybe it was a dish your grandmother made. A soup your dad reheated. A cookie you weren’t supposed to sneak.
If you have a story like that—a moment tied to taste, smell, or the comfort of being cared for—we’d love to hear it.
📬 Send your food memory (and recipe, if you have one) to info@tinylotustea.com We may feature it in a future For the Love of Food post.
Food is how we remember. How we hold on. How we pass love down, even if all we have left is a single meal.
With love,
Anne & Julie
