Some things that happened, and how I felt about them.

1. A couple of weeks ago, one of my students gave me a jar of homemade kimchi. Hooray! I was delighted.

2. I ate the kimchi and found it very good. Some of it went into a quesadilla, which will either sound insane or delicious to you, depending on your inclination and experience. My vote is firmly on the side of delicious. When I next taught the class with the kimchi-making student in it, he gave me the recipe for his kimchi (on an index card) and I gave him the hot tip about quesadillas (in conversation). I think we were both happy with this exchange.

3. I lost my purse. As you might imagine, this made me feel extremely clever, and not at all like an idiotic, empty headed booby. Replacing all the cards, I knew, would be as nothing compared to the arcane process of inducing the bowels of the university to produce new keys to my office. The greatest despair, however, came from the unavoidable evidence that I am profoundly incompetent. I sniveled and Steve patted me on the head.

4. That evening, I received a call from my car insurance company.

5. My insurance company had exciting news to report: Someone had turned my purse in to the police! The police, in their turn, had looked through my things. Finding no phone number, but an insurance card, they intrepidly placed a call to the insurers, who were not about to give my phone number to anyone, but called me with the number of one Officer Greene.

Officer Greene and I had a pleasant chat about the appearance of my bag. Then he dispatched a constable to my door for a hand delivery. (Slow news day, I suppose.) To my delight, the policeman who arrived was wearing a uniform jacket that appeared to be two or three sizes too large for him.

I didn't get his name, but I hope it was Officer Treehorn.

6. The police also provided the phone number of the person--a student visiting on a year abroad--who had found the bag in the first place. I called the next day to thank him and to get his address so I could send him a card (which is to say, money). I hate, hate, hate calling strangers on the phone, but clearly it had to be done.

"I was wondering what kind of person would own this purse," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I am from Korea," he said. "And I looked inside and I saw that there was a recipe for kimchi. And I thought, 'Maybe this is a person who loves Korea!'"

7. I am not, I admit, especially a person who loves Korea or even thinks about it terribly often. I do love kimchi, though. Also it is a great relief to be able to let myself into my office without assistance. So, okay, this week I am ready to love Korea. Why not? Kisses!

Comments

[LizardBreath]

The kimchi motif in the whole story is delightful. I like to think that the card identifying you as a kimchi lover was the final bit of impetus (added to the student's natural uprightness and goodwill) that got him to turn the purse in promptly.

(Also, to the extent that people have burbled annoyingly at you about 'pregnancy brain' making you stupid, in my experience there was some effect of that sort in late pregnancy, but it was all this sort of ditsiness, rather than any academic sort of slowdown. So blame it on gestation and bask in the knowledge that you'll be returning to your normal razor-sharpness any day now.)

[Drew]

This is a pretty excellent sequence of events. Also, I have to say, I like kimchi and love quesadillas, but I never would have thought to combine the two, so my mind has been verily blown by that culinary escapade.

In summary, this reminds me that I have not been out for some Korean bbq or bim bim bop in agesssssss.

[K-sky]

I too am ready to love Korea.

[Mum]

I love Korea on your behalf. Also Kimchi, but that is not news.

[Samantha]

In somewhat related news, I hunted down your braised baby savoy cabbage plus fried egg recipe last night. It was as beautifully delicious as your pictures.

Congratulations on the return of your purse!

[Ray Davis]

At first I was all "Oog" about kimchi and quesadillas but then I remembered salsa on quesadillas and cabbage on fish tacos so now I'm like all "Maybe."

Our neighborhood boasts a Korean-Mexican burrito place, but this isn't on their menu.

[Fillyjonk]

I was about to say you should see the new Alain Resnais movie Wild Grass, but then I remembered that it isn't very good. But there are some interesting similarities between it and this anecdote. Can these coincidences be . . . coincidental? If the person from Korea who found your purse is named Georges, please be wary.

[aleza (aka rubychard)]

i like this story! i have not been able to find kimchi that wasn't full of oysters and salted shrimp: it was in all the brands on 32nd street (do you know ny koreantown block? it is worth investigating). what do you buy? there is hippie kimchi at the coop, which is also good, but a totally different thing.

[aleza (aka rubychard)]

new york's koreatown block, i meant.

[redfox]

LB: Good advice. Also, I have a feeling, on reflection, that I actually lost the bag from the car on account of how much harder it is to see what is going on below my waist than it would normally be, on account of the intervening comic watermelon. So really I can't be held responsible at all.

Drew: Yes! Try the quesadillas. They are awesome.

K-sky: Finger guns.

Mum: Indeed.

Samantha: Oh, it has been too long since I've made braised cabbage, but I do love it so.

Ray: Seriously, cheese and kimchi get along oddly well -- strange but true. If you try it, please report back.

Fillyjonk: Ha! Fortunately not in the least like Georges. But, you know, it's always good to be on guard.

Aleza: I buy... no-name stuff in a plastic bag from the Korean market fridge? Probably it has unmentioned fish sauce in it, to which I close my eyes, but no visible or labeled actual fish bits. But the likelihood that there's plenty of hidden fish inside makes me think I should get more into making my own. (Of course going too far down that road gets you to an obsessive place with special kimchi refrigerators, etc.)