Two Spoons of Jang and a Revolution

Dear Yoon-hee,

I finally did it.
Not the big escape, not the perfect life—
but something golden, crispy, and absolutely mine.

They’re called Goguma-jang Twigim,
and I swear, if you’d been there on Thursday, you’d have seen grown men lose their dignity for a second helping.

I mashed up some old sweet potatoes (the purple ones, you know the type),
folded in just enough jang to raise eyebrows,
a bit of chopped onion, and something I won’t name in writing (you’ll taste it).
Fried them until the air smelled like secrets.

Then I made a glaze—soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, a hint of red heat—
the kind that clings and glistens like gossip.

I handed out the first batch to the nosiest women at the far end of the market.
By the time I turned around, they’d already dragged customers to my stall like I was selling forbidden stories.
Even old Mr. Kim—who once claimed sweet potatoes were “for pigs”—
asked if I’d teach his daughter to cook. I told him: "She can start by listening."

I’ve written out the recipe for you, even though I know you’ll change it the moment I’m not looking.

Goguma-jang Twigim (Yeo-won’s Version)

Sweet Potato Soy Cakes with Gossip Glaze

You’ll need:

• 2 large sweet potatoes (boiled, peeled, mashed)

• 2 big spoonfuls of jang (the good, funky kind)

• ½ an onion, finely chopped

• A handful of crushed rice crackers or flour (for binding)

• A pinch of salt (optional)

• Oil for frying

Optional glaze:

• 1 spoon soy sauce

• 1 spoon vinegar

• 1.5 spoons sugar

• A hint of chili (oil or paste)
  
  

How to do it (even if you're distracted by gossip):

1. Boil & mash the sweet potatoes until smooth and soft.

2. Mix in the jang, chopped onion, and binder (rice crackers or flour). Add a pinch of salt if it needs courage.

3. Shape the mixture into small, flat patties – think palm-sized, not propaganda-sized.

4. Heat oil in a shallow pan. When it sings, it’s ready.

5. Fry the cakes on medium heat until golden and crisp on both sides. Don't crowd the pan—this isn't the tram at rush hour.

6. While they rest (just briefly!), simmer the glaze ingredients until they look sticky enough to cause rumors.

7. Drizzle or dip, depending on your mood and your guests.

8. Serve warm, ideally with laughter and at least one person pretending they “don’t usually eat fried things.”
   
   
   

You’ll love it. You’ll make it better.
And you’ll pretend I’m not watching.

Come soon. I’ll keep a few under the cloth, next to the jar you never returned.

With crispy pride and a very full heart,
Yeo-won