Food isn’t just about nutrition and survival.
For so many of us, food invokes memories. Everyone has meals that they associate to past experiences, special occasions and even loved ones. For me, the smell of fried chicken always takes me back to my grandmother’s house during family gatherings. With thirteen children and close to twenty grandchildren to feed, the aroma of fried chicken would consistently waft from the kitchen and pull anyone with even the smallest tinge of hunger straight in.
Jaha Khoo expands on this to bring us an immersive theatre experience that presents anecdotes of an immigrant’s life in full sight, sound, smell and (for a lucky few) taste.
The performance starts with a screening of urban Seoul. We begin with aerial shots of the bright lights before being taken on a late night walk through the streets.
The latter utliises the shaky cam style. Thankfully, it’s less chaotic than the Blair Witch Project and leans towards the bounce of an energetic stride.
When the screening ends, we realise that the screen is a cover for Koo’s pojangmacha – a late night, street stall.
He invites a couple to sit at his pojangmacha. He plays the genial host, offering them drinks, before starting on the four course meal.
Koo recounts an anecdote in his immigrant journey as he prepares each dish.
Each anecdote is a vivid sensory experience. As he tells each story, via voiceover, two large screens on either end of the stall illustrates the narrative with videos and songs. In some anecdotes, we are even treated to olfactory stimuli.
This is the case with my favourite anecdote.
Koo opens the tale with a nugget about his grandmother farewelling him with a generous gift. Kilos of homemade kimchi.
As someone who moved to Australia over twenty years ago, I silently chuckled at the start.
“You can’t get XYZ in Australia!”
This was the common refrain I’d hear as more food was pushed on my plate. It is also why, even until this day, my luggage includes allowances for culinary souvenirs.
Koo is cooking kimchi pancakes as his recounts the tale. As he unpops the lid of kimchi jar, the pungent scent permeates the room. It lingers as he fries the pancake and you laugh along as the story gets worse (for him) and better (for us).
All his anecdotes are similarly stirring while touching on so many aspects of immigration. The appreciation of someone sharing “culinary gold” from the motherland. What it feels like to be a minority. The metaphorical reminders of why we leave.
As an immigrant, I have never felt so seen. It was a humour, mixed with nostalgia and camaraderie.
With so much xenophobic rhetoric in current times, it is so important for works like Haribo Kimchi to exist. This innovative performance reminds us of the universal truth of humanity: that beneath the surface, we are all just human beings trying to live our best lives.
I just wish that I got some of that kimchi pancake.
Hot tip: If you’re quick enough, you might be able to nab yourself a little snack or drink from the pojangmacha after the performance!