FEBRUARY 2021 97To prepare her soy-
and sugar-glazed fried
chicken, cookbook au-
thor Eric Kim’s auntie
Georgia Song (AT LEFT)
uses potato starch for
an extra-crisp exterior
(recipe p. 100).N 1974, Georgia Yi, a nursing major at Korea University, brought
dakgangjeong, or fried chicken, that she bought at a restaurant
to her boyfriend every other Sunday on her day off from the
hospital. My dad’s cousin Kyeongsuk Song, who was serving his
compulsory military service in South Korea, loved fried chicken
and looked forward to Georgia’s visits to his army camp. He
could eat a whole bird in one sitting and loved alternating
between bites of crispy chicken and sweet-and-sour pickled
radishes. The combination, to this day, makes his mouth water.
It’s also one of the many reasons he proposed to Georgia six
years later.A few months after Georgia and Kyeongsuk got married, they immigrated
to Atlanta, where they had two daughters, Sehee and Semi. For both daugh-
ters’ first birthdays, or doljanchi—a traditional milestone often celebrated
with a huge party to commemorate the health of the child—Georgia made
her signature dakgangjeong.
Many people probably think of the spicy gochujang-based sauce when
they hear “Korean fried chicken,” but there are other variations of the dish
equally popular in Korea. The version my Aunt Georgia makes—and the one
that’s beloved in our family and in many social circles around Atlanta—has a
garlicky, soy sauce–based glaze and is served in large aluminum foil trays to
be eaten buffet-style at various family functions, including parties, church
events, and funerals.
Undoubtedly the greatest feature of this chicken is that it stays crunchy
for hours out of the fryer. In fact, I’m convinced that it’s even crunchier
cold, thanks to the soy sauce and brown sugar glaze—which, when hot, is
molten lava but, once cool, glossily candies any surface it touches. For years
I thought this was magic, a feat only possible due to my aunt’s kitchen
prowess.
Georgia wasn’t always a good cook, though. “When I first got married, all
the bachelor samchon [uncles] were cooking better than me,” she laughs.
But, eager to learn, she pored over a set of cookbooks she had brought from
Korea. There were three volumes: Korean home cooking, Chinese home
cooking, and American home cooking. The dinners she put on the table
day to day came from these books, and it’s how she practiced her craft and
fed her extended family, as well. She doesn’t remember where she got the
fried chicken recipe, she tells me over the phone, though it’s likely from a
cookbook. “But I’ve been cooking it for a long time. Forty years, ever since
I moved here.”
Everyone in our family associates dak-
gangjeong with Aunt Georgia—and with big life
events. This is not weeknight food. Recently,
she made it for Semi’s wedding rehearsal din-
ner. “Everyone loved it,” Georgia tells me. I
can hear her smiling through the receiver.
Her dakgangjeong is the kind of high-impact
small bite that keeps you going when there
are people to talk to and old pictures to look
through. And, of course, it’s comfort food. The
last time I had it was after my Uncle Young’s
funeral. Same as always, Georgia made the
chicken. And we ate it.
Watching Georgia cook her fried chicken is
an indication of the role it has played in her
life since her Korea University days: a means
to feed the people she loves. Her daughters
describe her dakgangjeong method as one of
great focus and determination. “She keeps
busy, but it’s a flow,” Sehee says, “going back
and forth from cabinet to countertop to refrig-
erator to stove.” Never stopping until the last
wing is fried and glazed.
She sets up a gas range in the sunroom to
fry off the chicken, Sehee explains. “That way,
the whole house doesn’t smell of fried chicken.
Even when it’s 90-something outside and that
room is already very hot, she just sits there
frying away without showing any uneasiness.”
There are people to feed.The
Determined
Cook
I
BY ERIC KIMPHOTOGRAPHY: ANGIE WEBB