Takkewn’s Fruits - Mangos, Pears, Watermelon: On familiarity
Takkewn Bang was born in Korea in 1949. He is the eldest son in his family, now a husband, father, and grandfather. At 76 years old, he lives in Yongin-si with his beloved wife. He is the paternal grandfather of Jiwoo, who always remembers that her grandfather has a way of picking out fruit and sharing it generously.
Mangos, Pears, Watermelon: On familiarity
When I asked him how he learned to cook, he laughed:
“나는 라면 끓이는 거 외에는 하나도 몰라. 오로지 할머니가 다 알아.”
“Besides boiling ramen, I don’t know a thing. Your grandmother knows everything.”
But fruit — that’s different. Fruit carries his stories.
The first pear he ever ate was as a boy, when his father took him to a bustling night market. He remembers the wrestling matches, the noisy vendors, the smell of dust and food smoke in the air. His father bought him a single pear.
“껍질도 안 까고 먹었는데, 그렇게 맛있었어. 그때부터 배가 제일 좋아졌지.”
“I didn’t even peel it. It was just so delicious. From then on, pears became my favorite.”
Watermelon, though, came through mischief. As children, they couldn’t afford to buy one. So one night he joined the village boys in a subak seori — sneaking into the watermelon patch. They cracked one open under the moonlight, the red flesh glistening.
“그때 돈 주고 사 먹을 수 없으니까, 서리해서 처음 맛본 거야. 그래서 수박에 반했지.”
“We couldn’t buy it, so we stole it. That was the first taste. That’s when I fell in love with watermelon.”
And then, much later in life, came mangoes. He didn’t try one until after fifty, at a school event.
“우리나라에서 먹어본 과일 중에 그런 맛은 없었어. 배도, 수박도 따라가지 못해. 그 맛에 반했지.”
“No fruit in Korea tasted like that. Not even pears, not even watermelon. I was captivated.”
He doesn’t buy them often — “너무 비싸지” (“too expensive”), he says with a shrug — but when Jiwoo comes, sometimes he brings one home. Because food, for him, has always been about family.
When we spoke of cooking, he waved away recipes and talked instead of love:
“다른 사람이 맛이 있다, 없다 상관없어. 할머니가 해주는 음식이 제일 좋아.”
“It doesn’t matter if others say it tastes good or not. The food your grandmother makes is always the best.”
That, I realize, is the recipe he has passed down — not instructions for stew or soup, but a way of loving through food and memory.
How to Eat Fruit Like Halabeoji
Watermelon: The best one is the one you remember sneaking with your friends, cracked open under the summer moon. (But if you must choose: look for one with a deep sound when you knock, and a yellow field spot.)
Pears: Sweetest when shared by a father’s hand at the market, juice dripping down your chin. (But really, pick one that feels heavy for its size and smells fragrant at the stem.)
Mangoes: Still a luxury in Korea, but worth it when you buy for someone you love. (Look for softness at the touch, and a rich, sweet fragrance.)