My husband and daughter absolutely love gimbap. One day, I decided to let them eat as much as they wanted and took on a challenge I had long avoided: making gimbap myself. I had a rough experience making it in the past, and ever since then I’d declared, “Gimbap is meant to be bought, not made.” So this decision was a big one for me.
On a Sunday morning, I busily began preparing the ingredients. Watching from the side, my daughter eagerly offered to help.
“Mom, can I help? I want to do it too! Let’s make it together. It looks fun!”
We spread rice onto the seaweed and added the fillings—egg, ham, pickled radish, fish cake—then tried rolling one to test. I didn’t even have a bamboo mat, so I worried it wouldn’t hold together. But surprisingly, it rolled up beautifully. When I sliced it, I couldn’t help but say, “Wow.”
Then it was my daughter’s turn. Just as I had shown her, she spread just the right amount of rice, arranged the ingredients neatly, and rolled it with care. She even sliced it confidently on her own. She said making gimbap was easier than she expected—and actually really fun. Even though her back started to ache after standing for a while, she kept going until the very last ingredient was used. By the time we finished, I had made five rolls, while she—quick and skillful—had made fifteen.
Unlike my exhausting experience years ago, making gimbap with my daughter turned into a delightful memory. That day, I discovered her hidden talent, and the three of us happily devoured all twenty rolls of homemade gimbap. And my opinion about gimbap changed, too.
“Maybe . . . making gimbap at home isn’t so bad after all.”