sonmat (손맛)
a taste not easily forgotten, and one we’d like to remind you of
Research has shown that within immigrant communities, native languages rarely survive past three generations. As children (and later, those children’s children) become acclimated to their new culture, so too do their tongues. Assimilation becomes key, and words or phrases fall to the wayside.
Interestingly enough, those same studies suggest that an ethnicity’s native food far outlasts even six to seven generations. Even though a family recipe might get tweaked along the way, a great-great-grandchild can and will still identify with certain flavors that have been passed on through the years.
For Koreans, this unidentifiable flavor that we remember — especially in our mom’s food — might be best defined as sonmat (손맛).
Loosely translated into “handmade taste,” sonmat describes the flavors we crave after one too many pasta nights and Taco Tuesdays. As much as we’ve learned to love burgers and kale salads, for whatever reason the repetitive, ho-hum dishes made by our mothers’ hands are the ones we want most; and yet, they also seem to be the hardest to replicate.
By 2005, my parents had spent eleven years in the States throwing everything they had into the small church they planted (the sole reason for their immigration). As members flocked out and tithes and offerings shrank close to zero, so did my dad’s salary, leaving my mother with no choice but to generate income.
Miraculously, she secured a loan to start Lunchstop, a small cafeteria at the bottom of a Verizon corporate office. With no prior restaurant experience, my mom suddenly found herself making dishes she had never even heard of: pulled pork, jambalaya, and meatloaf to name a few.
And while she had recipes to refer to, there was no sonmat to be found at Lunchstop.
How could there be? She was cooking for tired employees who likely only ate her food because they forgot their packed lunches. I wonder if they even cared to ask her name.
But at home, feeding her family, my mother didn’t know anything but how to cook with sonmat.
Our meals weren’t special because we couldn’t afford anything special, but we would happily feast over three-day-old kimchi jjigae and kongnameul (bean sprouts) straight from their stained Tupperware containers.
To this day, nothing beats the feeling of coming home to those types of dinners — no recipes, all sonmat.
That’s why my family is starting sonmat (손맛), a family meal set delivery service.
Korean cuisine has been my mom’s way of keeping us connected to our native culture. And though there are countless restaurants and markets that make this food accessible, our lives ask much of us — time, money, and energy.
We want to bring you the comfort of sonmat without you having to over-sacrifice any of those things. You shouldn’t have to leave your home, to feel at home.
With our pre-cooked meal sets, you’ll be able to have a full home-cooked meal (entrees, sides aka banchans, and soups) ready within minutes; just reheat in the microwave or stovetop. The menus will rotate so that we don’t miss a single dish from our past.
We know we won’t replace your mom’s cooking, and certain dishes may not taste exactly how you remember them. But if we can get close — not just in the flavor but in the love and effort behind them — we would be honored and so happy.
Our mission is to help you remember why we can’t, and won’t, soon forget our native food.
Introducing sonmat (손맛) — from our home, to yours.
Love,
The Kim family
@sonmat.delivery on IG
