No, Really, They're Tiny

Standard cookie sheet vs. tiny Korean oven

Welcome to Tiny Korean Ovens! I'm an American living in the ROK – Republic of Korea, a.k.a. South Korea – divinely inspired by a friend to start this blog. I love living here and experiencing different cultures and cuisines that go hand-in-hand with traveling. Even so, I had no idea what living in a foreign country would be like, particularly one still at war. My posts will cover my adjustments to living in Seoul, as well as my mishaps experiences visiting other countries. Luckily, I’ve never caused an international incident (that I know of), so my only restrictions boil down to what degree I let you guys know how much of an idiot I was in a given situation. You can expect full disclosure on a range of topics and some language that you might not want your children repeating at school.

So how did I get here? One of my friends from George Mason University, who happens to be a poet, foodie, and traveler, brought up an interesting point during a chat not too long ago. We talked about visiting other countries, and she mentioned how much she enjoyed the pictures I posted to my Facebook page. I told her that I didn’t post any evidence of the crazy things, like the completely hopeless oven size in my apartment or the lack of Western toilets in some countries. She laughed and requested a picture of the diminutive oven. Then she said how funny it was that everyone thought I had a glamorous life, meanwhile I was trying to bake under ridiculous conditions. Thus, this blog was born. The oven in question is pictured above with a standard cookie sheet wedged inside at a 45-degree angle, which is not exactly conducive to making cookies.

I absolutely love cooking and eating. Those people who like to savor a dish or sip a drink slowly? I’m one of them. Savoring doesn’t come naturally to me, though; I’m from a family of six and both my parents have large immediate families. There was always plenty of food to go around, but usually not the good stuff. My favorite dishes and desserts were limited in quantity, or that’s how it always seemed. For instance, guacamole and sliced avocado have something approaching the street value of pure cocaine from the perspective of my mom’s side of the family. People (who shall remain nameless) have gotten into shouting matches over how much each person can put on his or her plate, because – given the opportunity – any Alvarez would be happy to grab a handful of tortillas and roll a few guacamole burritos using every last bit in the bowl. 

On my dad’s side of the family, it was more about the direct competition in my peer group. I was lucky enough to be the oldest kid in my family, but I fell somewhere around the halfway mark among my cousins. Being older and mostly male, they would serve themselves what looked like Matterhorn-sized pieces of birthday cake, topped with avalanches of ice cream and clouds of whipped cream. Meanwhile, I got a sliver of cake with a kid-size scoop of ice cream crowned with Cool Whip. The Kajers are not a stingy group; rather, it’s a first-come, first-served environment, where you could get shoved to the back if you aren’t old enough to merit being first. From each side of my family, I learned the value of good food and equality in serving size.

Until the next post, keep laughing, learning new things, and eating good food.