This book explores the global movement and transformation of Korean food that the author has encountered in various cities in the United States since the late 1990s. In particular, it focuses on four specific examples of such Korean food: cold noodles (naengmyeon), pancakes (jeon), grilled meat, including ribs (galbi), and rice bowls with vegetables and meat (bibimbap). The four main chapters discuss each of these dishes by situating them in broader historical, political, and cultural contexts. In order to bring these case studies together with thematic coherence, Ryang engages with the notion of authenticity in the consumption of these dishes. She follows the transnational trajectories of the cold noodles she ate in Koreatown, Los Angeles; the pancakes she encountered in a huge Korean supermarket located in the Baltimore area; the grilled meat dishes that are selectively present and absent in diverse locations in Hawai‘i; and the rice bowls popular among college students in Iowa City.Beginning with her own personal memories of eating these dishes over three decades in multiple locations spanning the Korean Peninsula, Japan, and the United States as well as Australia (albeit tangentially), Ryang presents the checkered histories and current conditions of consuming these dishes. Following her peripatetic discussion, readers learn how these seemingly mundane dishes have undergone dramatic alterations as they traveled long distances both culturally and geographically, losing certain meanings and features and gaining new ones. For example, jeon, small pancakes made of battered vegetables, seafood, and meat, used to be the ritual food reserved for ancestor commemoration rite in the Korean Peninsula and Korean communities in Japan. Yet this symbolic meaning has been lost in their transnational travel to Korean supermarkets in the United States, and the global capital invested in food industry has reinvented jeon as portable and convenient food to be eaten anytime. In the case of galbi, distinctive Korean recipes for marinating meat include pear juice and garlic. Yet these ingredients have been lost in its diasporic journey; Koreans living in Japan known for their grilled meat (yakiniku), especially organ meat, have stopped using them for economic and other pragmatic reasons.I would situate this book in the growing body of critical food studies written from a transnational perspective. These studies explore the larger political and social histories of food production, circulation/distribution, and consumption that highlight uneven power relations among individuals, social groups, and political communities. They also pay close attention to persistent and shifting hierarchies and inequalities in the contemporary world shaped by uneven global histories. Unlike culinary studies that focus narrowly on ingredients, recipes, cooking techniques, and presentations, critical food studies approach food as a medium through which unequal power relations are illuminated and analyzed, rather than being obscured by culinary pleasure and enjoyment. As Ryang herself points out, Sidney Mintz’s Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History was a seminal work in this body of literature. Since this work, many more studies have been published, including Erica Rappaport’s A Thirst for Empire: How Tea Shaped the Modern World and Lizzie Collingham’s Curry: A Tale of Cooks and Conquerors. While these are more in-depth and extensive studies focusing on a single food item and its global variations over centuries, Ryang’s book, as she herself is well aware, is a rather impressionistic exploration of the complex trajectories of the four Korean dishes. (For a comparable work on Chinese food, see Tan’s Chinese Food and Foodways in Southeast Asia and Beyond.) This relative lightness, coupled with the popularity of these four dishes among the millennial generation of college students exposed to Korean food, can work very effectively in facilitating these students to see, think, and experience these mundane dishes from a critical and broader perspective.The main chapters of this book together convey the important historical shift from colonization and war to accelerated global capitalism as the central force behind transnational flows of food. In the past, food circulated as a byproduct of colonial expansions as well as military conquests and occupations. As people were mobilized as agents and subjects of colonial empires and military powers, their food moved along with them and was transformed in such processes. In the present, the transnational movement of food occurs primarily through the leisure and entertainment industry as it identifies and even manufactures market niches and promotes certain “ethnic” or “national” dishes. This book also aptly highlights ongoing class divisions among Korean Americans and other Asian Americans. Small restaurants and grocery stores owned by Korean immigrant families have disappeared as gigantic Korean food companies open large supermarkets that cater not only to Koreans and Asians but also to other American consumers. While the growing number of children of wealthy Chinese families come to the United States as international students and consume those Korean dishes in major university towns, refugees from Southeast Asia continue to toil in the restaurant and meatpacking industries.This book, however, is somewhat uneven in discussing complex and often multilayered trajectories of the four Korean dishes. The second chapter, on jeon, is the strongest, whereas the first chapter, on naengmyeon, contains a digressive discussion of noodle varieties and spicy calamari. The underlying logic of this chapter makes readers expect more substantive elaboration on the noodles’ global transformation, but this discussion stops rather abruptly (31). The third chapter delivers a comparative discussion of the Japanese colonization of Korea, the US annexation of Hawai‘i, and the contemporary movement of global capital invested in the tourism industry, which has shaped the particular presence and absence of grilled meat consumed in various locations in Hawai’i. The subtitle, “Grilling Galbi,” may puzzle readers because the chapter does not focus on ribs in particular but discusses a wide range of meat consumption across national boundaries of South Korea, Japan, and Hawai’i. The fourth chapter highlights the impact of educational globalization on food consumption among Asian students, including international students, in Iowa City, a quintessential midwestern city that is still primarily white. All of these chapters could benefit from more ethnographic research on people whom the author encountered and observed as consumers and producers of the four Korean dishes. This limitation also influences the discussion of authenticity, which I will discuss below.The thematic focus on authenticity is well taken, because this notion is central to the consumption of food in our globalized world. Critical food studies tend to approach authenticity from a dual angle. It has become salient precisely because certain food has left its place of origin, and this decoupling works in conjunction with the enduring power of status distinction measured in terms of cosmopolitan sophistication in various societies.1 The authenticity of deterritorialized food in motion gains symbolic currency as a meaningful source of sophistication and worldliness among the masses. The ability to identify “authentic” dishes and consume them signifies both economic and cultural capital, which enhances such consumers’ prestige and honor, leading to higher social status. Critical food studies also recognize the relational and fluid nature of authenticity as opposed to fixed and immutable attributes and qualities. Ryang’s discussion of authenticity captures this relational nature but not its symbolic role as a marker of status distinction in the age of accelerated mass consumption. There is a curious absence of engagement with existing critical food studies published by Korean American scholars on this issue as examined in Korean America and South Korea.2 Instead, this book engages with purely theoretical discussions of authenticity by engaging with European social thinkers, including Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Walter Benjamin, and Karl Marx. This discussion is valuable, yielding deeper insights and questions about authenticity in food consumption in the age of consumer capitalism. Yet the thematic discussion of authenticity in this book could benefit from the expansion of ethnographic research beyond the author’s own observation and personal experience and into the lives of people she encountered and observed while following the four Korean dishes. Logically, the discussion of authenticity raises the following empirical questions: Which of these consumers, retailers, and producers of the Korean dishes talk about authenticity? What does it mean to them and why do they care about it? What other qualities do they find important and why? Delving into these related questions would enrich and deepen the discussion beyond theoretical argument.Critical food studies deserve both scholarly and pedagogic attention in our globalized world for at least two reasons. First, as global and local economies in industrialized world have moved toward information technology, brand marketing, and service industry, we can easily become oblivious to the corporeality of human existence; food and eating bring us back to such material foundation of our collective existence that reminds us of our vulnerability and finiteness and our inseparable connection to the environment that has been severely destroyed by our fossil fuel–based civilization. Second, eating is an activity shared by all human beings, and through it we can make connections between everyday routines and uneven power dynamics. Ryang’s book makes a valuable contribution to this double endeavor. The book is lucidly written with an inviting first-person narrative and will be suitable for undergraduate courses on critical food studies, global or transnational Korean studies and Asian studies, and comparative studies dealing with material culture.
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