Beef soondubu is served in a hot stone pot with banchan and bulgogi on the side. It was at the famous Korean restaurant called Tomukun in Ann Arbor (November 15, 2025) Photo by Edric Kim
by Edric Kim
The first thing you notice about soondubu jjigae is the sound: it hisses and bubbles like lava waking up, never staying still. The scent of gochugaru (dried pepper flakes), garlic, and sesame oil fills through the air. When my mom cracks an egg into the center, the yolk sinks and shines gold through the broth. The smell of hot chili and the sweetness of tofu has always felt like home to me.
Back in Korea, that sound filled every corner of my apartment when my grandma cooked. We had a small kitchen, crowded with metal pots clanging. Soondubu jjigae didn’t feel special then; it was just dinner, one of many stews she made. I’d eat while watching youtube without thinking much about the food.
When my family moved to Houston, we settled in the suburbs. Quiet streets, neat lawns, and the absence of noise felt strange after the constant motion of Seoul. For weeks, our dinners felt the same; quiet meals made from whatever we could find at the Kroger, just 5 minutes away from our house. Then one Saturday, we discovered H-mart, the biggest Asian food market in the U.S. Walking through the aisles felt like stepping back into something we had lost. The air was filled with the familiar smell of sesame oil, gochugaru, and the chatter of Korean families. My mom’s face brightened up as she loaded the cart with gochugaru, tofu, and kimchi—things that had been missing from our table for weeks. That night, she made soondubu jjigae. As the stew began to boil, the silence that had settled over our home finally broke. The smell of chili and garlic from gochugaru filled our large house in Texas, spreading into every corner just like in our old apartment in Korea. The bubbling sound of the stew cut through the silence and the red broth glowed like fire against the gray tiles in our house.
We gathered around the table and it was the first meal that felt alive since we moved. The heat stung our lips, but it also eased something we had not realized we were carrying: the exhaustion from adjusting in a completely new environment. At that moment, I remembered a line my grandma used to say when cooking this stew. She once said tofu absorbs everything around it without losing its shape. This felt like a perfect description of what our family was doing. We were learning to absorb a new culture and life in America while trying to hold onto the flavor of where we came from.
Soondubu (soft tofu) is more than just a meal. At Hanjip Korean Grill House, chefs describe Korean stews or jjigae as a dish rooted in community and its history can be traced back to ancient Korea, where families gathered around boiling stews for comfort and connection (Hanjip). The soft tofu inside soondubu jjigae also carries its own health benefits. According to a study in Medicine, tofu is one of the most balanced sources of nutrition, consisting of all nine essential amino acids with calcium and ion, offering lower cholesterol level and reducing the risk of heart diseases (Eze et.al.).
Interior of the Seoul restaurant showing Korean restaurant aesthetics with neon signs, lighting, table, and crowd. (November 2, 2025) Photo by Edric Kim.
Close up shot of soondubu jjigae with clams and tofu boiling in the stone pot at the Seoul restaurant. (November 2, 2025) Photo by Edric Kim.
Years later, when I came across Bryan Washington’s article on soondubu jjigae, it felt like someone was finally describing the thing I’d never been able to explain. Washington also grew up in Houston, and the way he wrote about heat and how it twists familiar flavors into something new reminded me of our first bowl in our Texas kitchen. He wrote, “The heat echoed the flavors that I’d grown up with and contorted them” (Washington). Reading his words, I realized he was capturing exactly how I felt that night. The stew tasted like what I grew up with, but also slightly different in our new home in Texas.
When I make soondubu jjigae myself, I follow my mom and grandma’s rhythm: garlic first, then gochugaru, tofu at the end. I wait until the stew boils fiercely before serving it. When the sound of soondubu jjigae fills the room, it reminds me of home both in Seoul and Texas. No matter how far from home, this bubbling heat and smell will never fail to make me feel like home.
Works Cited
Eze, Ngozi M., et al. “Acceptability and Consumption of Tofu as a Meat Alternative among Secondary School Boarders in Enugu State, Nigeria: Implications for Nutritional Counseling and Education.” Medicine (Baltimore), vol. 97, no. 45, 2018, pp. e13155–e13155, https://doi.org/10.1097/MD.0000000000013155. Accessed 12 Nov. 2025.
Kim, Edric. Beef soondubu is served in a hot stone pot with banchan and bulgogi on the side. 15 Nov. 2025. Author’s personal collection.
Kim, Edric. Interior of the Seoul restaurant showing Korean restaurant aesthetics with neon signs, lighting, table, and crowd. 2 Nov. 2025. Author’s personal collection.
Kim, Edric. Close up shot of soondubu jjigae with clams and tofu boiling in the stone pot at the Seoul restaurant. 2 Nov. 2025. Author’s personal collection.
“Savouring the Rich History of Korean Stew.” HANJIP Korean Grill House Singapore, 26 May 2025, https://hanjip.sg/savouring-the-rich-history-of-korean-stew/. Accessed 12 Nov. 2025.
Washington, Bryan. “An Adopted Obsession with Soondubu Jjigae, Korean Silken-Tofu Stew.” The New Yorker, 20 Feb. 2019, www.newyorker.com/culture/kitchen-notes/an-adopted-obsession-with-soondubu-jjigae-korean-silken-tofu-stew. Accessed 12 Nov. 2025.