Maangchi's Big Book Of Korean Cooking

A few years ago, Maangchi published her first book, which I have now lost after lending it to friends. She didn't think she would publish another—"So much work!" she told me over the phone—until her editor came to her with an idea for another cookbook. This would be bigger. It would go beyond the basics of Korean cuisine and explore things that intrigued her, like temple food ("They don't use garlic or ginger, so how do you make it tasty?!") and lunch boxes ("I've made this for my family for decades!").

My copy of Maangchi's Big Book of Korean Cooking is already stained and dog-eared, and it only came out in October. That's because, while I've experienced first-hand the joy of having multiple Korean moms in my life, this book taught me the joy of acting like one. There is a buoyant kind of satisfaction you get in cooking for the people you care for, but Maangchi takes it to another level. Make the smoky anchovy-radish-kelp stock and you'll see. Maangchi says to save the broth-bloated radish and kelp for a quick stir-fried snack. When my husband, a classic kitchen lurker, wandered over, I gave him the treat instead of admonishing him to wait just 10 more minutes for dinner. Here Maangchi doesn't just teach you how to cook Korean food for the people in your life, but how to inject surprise and a little bit of fun to show them just how much you enjoy doing it.

She really breaks it down.

Photo by Laura Murray

Recently, I got my chance to do my best Maangchi impression, when a close friend underwent surgery and requested Korean food to help her recover. So I flipped open the book and followed the internet's Korean mom. I tore dough into thin, ragged pieces for kimchi sujebi, a fortifying soup with kimchi and that delicious anchovy stock. I simmered soft tofu, hunks of cauliflower, and dried shiitakes for a vegetarian take on sundubu jjigae, still as potently spicy and flavorful as meat- or seafood-powered ones. I stocked my fridge with banchan, like blanched watercress enlivened with sweet-salty doenjang. I marinated slivers of eggplant twice—once in salt, then in a gochugaru, soy sauce, and onion mixture—for her "vegetarian bulgogi." Charred around the edges and custardy inside, it was the first thing demolished at the table, which made me feel only the slightest bit proud. (Okay, fine. I was extremely pleased with myself.)

I get why my Korean moms never shooed me away when I arrived awkward and hungry to their homes as a teen. I get why Maangchi constantly retests her recipes to make them better or vegetarian or faster to cook, and answers all the comments posted to her videos and recipes, even when it's the middle of the night and she's headed to the bathroom. I get why I pored over this cookbook, making notes of all the recipes I wanted to cook for my friends and family coming to my teensy Manhattan apartment. And, sorry, the reason is cliché: We do it because we care.

If Maangchi is our collective mom, then we're her collective kids. And through her latest cookbook, she passes on not only her recipes, but also the special kind of joy, warmth, and love only a Korean mother knows how to show.

Get the recipe:

Panfried Marinated Eggplant recipe from Maangchis Big Book of Korean Cooking From Everyday Meals to Celebration Cuisine

Bulgogi-Style Eggplant

This easy weeknight pan-fried eggplant is so flavorful and pleasingly chewy, it's practically meaty.

View Recipe

Buy it: Maangchi's Big Book of Korean Cooking, $25 at Amazon

All products featured on Bonappetit.com are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.