Pictured above, Hannay Kays with husband, Ty, and daughters, Elodi (far left) and Lilibeth (middle).

There is a strong relationship between traditions and food, which often operates as an expression of cultural identity. Through food, my family experiences the Korean and American culture, which ultimately connects us to the present and our past. While Elodi and Lilibeth — 3 and 1.5 years old — are too young to understand the significance of the food that they eat, there is no doubt in my mind that the warmth and love that transcends from these everyday traditions is imprinted into their American experience.

It was not until we got married that my Caucasian husband, who was raised in a small sleepy town in Kentucky known as Bardstown, first experienced waking up at my parents’ house and for breakfast had soondubu jjigae (spicy tofu stew), rice, kimchi (spicy pickled cabbage), fried gulbi (croaker fish), and other banchans (side dishes) — as opposed to the pancakes, eggs, and bacon that he was used to. For the rest of the weekend, each time Ty sat down to eat, there was another variation of Korean soup staring back at him: yukgaejang (spicy beef soup with vegetables), dduk gook (rice cake soup), mandoo gook (dumpling soup), moo gook (radish soup), kong namool gook (soybean sprout soup), and doenjang jjigae (fermented soybean paste stew). By the end of the weekend, Ty asked me one big question: “Hannah, how much more soup awaits me?”

Our girls, on the other hand, needed no introduction to Korean food. Perhaps it is because they were exposed to it while I was pregnant or maybe it is simply their genetics, but both Elodi and Lilibeth have a special affinity for all things Korean. They might turn their noses to foods we cook at our house, but the girls will eat heaps and heaps of Korean food when they go to Halmuhnee’s (Grandmother) house. First, unlike their father, they had no trouble quickly embracing the soup heavy cuisine and, in fact, seem to favor it. Also, at a very early age, both Elodi and Lilibeth showed interest in spicy foods. Specifically, they love to eat kimchi in between big sips of water. The girls also love mussels. Oh, my goodness, how much these girls love mussels. It is quite the sight to see two toddlers quietly sitting in their highchairs as they pick the meat out and toss the shells into the bucket — on repeat — like pros. But these are the moments that absolutely tickle me because I vividly remember doing this as a little girl. In fact, I remember my parents taking me to the beach as we hunted mussels and snails that were stuck on the giant boulders and rocks by the ocean. It was a family pastime that I knew was unique to being Korean, and it is heartwarming to see Elodi and Lilibeth go crazy for mussels the way I did.

The most exciting part in raising biracial children in America is watching the traditions that their grandparents pass down to them through food. For example, Nan bakes homemade cookies and brownies with them. Halmuhnee rolls kimbap (Korean sushi) with them. Papa might make them a hot cocoa to get warm, while Halahbuhjee (Grandfather) brews hot ginger tea to settle their tummies. A birthday meal with Nan and Papa would involve casseroles, buttered rolls, salad, and a double layered chocolate cake. A birthday meal with Halmuhnee and Halahbuhjee would involve miyuk gook (seaweed soup), japchae (stir-fried glass noodles), pan-fried fish, and a lightly whipped strawberry cream cake. Holidays with Nan and Papa would mean carving into a giant turkey or honey ham. Holidays with Halmuhnee and Halahbuhjee would mean grilling Korean BBQ with (yes, you guessed it) Korean soup.

When I was little, growing up in a predominantly white community in suburban North Carolina felt like there was a rigid dichotomy between Korean and American food. My mother feverishly aired out our house to get rid of the smell of Korean cooking when my friends from school came over, and I was routinely reminded to brush my teeth well so no one would know that we had kimchi with our breakfast. Back then, there was a tacit understanding that we needed to assimilate and not offend the senses of what our peers considered to be “American.” I think modern America has evolved since then. I now see lots of non-Korean people browsing the aisles at Korean grocery stores, and my colleagues stopping by my office to tell me that they tried kimchi for the first time or talk about their unique experience of grilling pork belly and galbi (marinated spareribs) right at their own table at Seoul Garden. We live in a community that celebrates diversity, and I am optimistic that Elodi and Lilibeth will not have the same insecurities I felt as a child. More of us Americans are concluding that there is no single version of what the “American experience” should look like.

For Elodi and Lilibeth? Their American experience appears to look like a slice of holiday turkey, slathered with gravy, and topped with a piece of kimchi in each yummy bite!