tteokbokki

We are not so much what we eat, but what we remember we have eaten. When I was five years old, I walked in my mom’s kitchen one Saturday morning and smelled the most delicious smells coming from her kitchen. She called me to the room with those enticing aromas and placed a plate of ‘tteokbokki’ in front of me. Then she told me to eat quickly or else it would get cold. The way the rice cakes disappeared in my mouth as I ate it delighted me.  The... Share this: Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email More Click to print (Opens in new window) Print Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr