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Sonmat(손맛): How Korean Food Brought Me Comfort [Photo Essay Contest - Grand Prize Winner]

Published: 13 Mar. 2026, 17:51

by Megan Minseo Lee, Seoul International School

The international life is a difficult one. To me, no single place has ever felt one hundred percent like home. While I've felt at home in each culture I've lived in, the sense of being foreign or alien has always lingered. In Australia, I felt too Asian. In Tokyo, I felt too Korean. When I moved back to Korea, I felt too American. Cycling between these different cultures, my life has always been in perpetual motion.

Amidst the constant flux of international life, certain staples have kept me grounded: family and food. And if there's one thing that Koreans excel at, it's comfort food. In Korean, we have a term called "sonmat(손맛)," which directly translates to "hand taste." The term refers to the distinctive flavor and experience created by a cook’s personal touch.

My most vivid memories are defined by my grandmother's sonmat.

When I moved from Korea to an American school in Tokyo, I struggled to grapple with two cultures at once. I couldn't speak English or Japanese, and I felt farther from home than ever. The language barrier between myself and my peers felt like a literal wall, twenty feet tall and cemented into the ground.

In the tumultuous first months of the move, it was my grandmother's visit to Tokyo that replenished me. Immediately upon arrival, she grabbed a pot and got started on the galbijjim. I can still smell the scent of stewing meat wafting across the room.

My grandmother's galbijjim has a somewhat soft, subtle fragrance. Its aroma is achieved after hours of brewing Korean pear, jujube, sesame oil, and ginger with ribs. The result is a mellow, silky aroma with hints of garlicky umami and sweetness from the pear.

Sonmat is more powerful than most people think because it lives not only in flavor, but in the unique aromas that each cook infuses into a dish. Inhaling certain fragrances is proven to strike certain feelings in the brain. For me, the smell of my grandmother's galbijjim transported me back to my family's house in Korea. It allowed me to escape the turbulence of the move to Japan and offered a sense of refuge.

At a time when everything in my life felt unmoored, my grandmother's galbijjim grounded me. Whether I was in Australia, Tokyo, or Korea; riding high or hitting rock bottom, galbijjim has followed me through every chapter of my life. In a life defined by change, it has been my one constant. No matter where I find myself, it never fails to bring a sense of familiarity and comfort.