Phil Lee
Phil Lee: Feed the People
mani mogo (in korean means) eat lots – one of the most genuine moments a Korean mother says to her children.
Hello, my name Phil – I am a feeder.
At Weston and Finch I was born and raised, on the playground is where I spent most of my days…I was born and raised by Jane and Finch, this being one of the first pockets where many Koreans created a diaspora in the 70’s, they called it in Korean “Liberty Village”, a newly landed bunch of 20 something year old Korean kids, leaving their respective homes in Korea in hopes of a new life in Canada.
In time, within the soft developed community came the need for Korean specific produce. I remember as a kid, the first harvest of napa cabbage and radishes for pickling kimchi, our parents would clammer together all night, with the large mixing tubs for the roasted spices and sauces for the kimchi they would drum by hand songs of home, bleary eyed off of Labatt 50 and Crown Royale till the pop off sound of a truck parking in the late of night. These trucks were the awaited early set of Korean farmers who laid their tracks in St. Catherines and drove their truck cage high full of Napa Cabbage, Daikon Radishes, Garlic and whatever else they could grow in this new land which were unavailable to them at the local supermarkets.
I would stand with my friends by our parents sides as they haggled for their winter shares. The men would carry with pride bags/ boxes full of produce like comically powerful little ants carrying donuts to our respective caves. I would pridefully carry one osh kosh geared out and all.
This was my Korea
Through the years growing up things changed. I grew up with many different cultures in this area, not fusion, but one less of borders – and this welled over to food. The most memorable flavours being Italian – from the factory my mother first started to work at, proudly to this day. Her new adopted name became Suzie from Soo-Jung – and to this day she still has a Korean-Italian-English accent – It always draws smiles from my friends when she would say things like…”Piii-lip o’ Pooouhl – whatcha matta with you – closa da lights”.
My mother’s coworkers would hand me homemade mozzarella balls and bread with sauces and sausages to when I came by the factory – the delight to any parents when a child eats with no shame – especially of another race. Proud.
Feed the people – eliminates race
Our family would then move to Mimico then ended up in Rexdale for the rest of my formative years – this trek introduced me to Polish, Indian, Ethopian, Somalian and my brother and I’s most favourite – West Indie/Caribbean food. Beef patties were my new steamed buns and Jerk Chicken and curry goat my new spicy Chicken and Korean stews.
But the most important Korean culinary lessons of generosity and pride was from upbringing in the Korean-Canadian churches. Here, I learned…I learned the spirit of feeding and the of joy giving and reaching, teaching. The ubiquitous story of many Korean parents tirelessly volunteering in the kitchen for Sunday after service meals – this after countless hours of working in their respective jobs. Additionally, there were annual church picnics to the huge inter-city Korean-church soccer tournaments held in the west end of Etobicoke at Centennial Park (feeding hundreds, men dutifully fanning the flames grilling countless Korean short ribs to makeral).
Cooking was a way of articulating your thoughts and convey feelings to others – it disarms people, more importantly it disarms yourself.
I feel like I can justifiably say, that the early generation of immigrants and children of the first have been able to have fun engaging in the community connecting with people through our discovery and rediscovery of food here in Canada. Now watching Koreans and non Koreans side by side in Christie to North York, people eating together, sharing plates, crossing hands, cutlery hitting plates in moments of silence and glancing smiles.
I feel like being a Korean-Canadian, the lesson I learned with food was to share and feed others – gaining some perspective of a person when you’re eating together, talking about your palette, because your palette is a story in itself.
It has been and always will be my joy in sharing “my” story of developed flavours here in Toronto – especially our pollinated palettes growing up here as a second generation Korean-Canadian – proud.
Thank you
feed the people – mani mogo (eat lots)