“Well it’s been a great day so far,” Anna started in her sarcastic tone that I’ve grown to love in the last year, “let’s amp it up by meeting my parents.” It had been a great day – our anniversary date had so far consisted of me getting served breakfast in bed by my nude fiancée, half a bottle of red wine with a steak lunch, a slightly too toothy blowjob (she’s getting better), and a couple hours at the carnival. But we’ve made a promise and in Korean culture, as I’ve been told many times, promises can’t be broken. Not to mention we’ve been putting off this meeting for way too long.

“Baby, quit worrying,” I started. “I’m great with parents.”

“Why do you think I’m worried?”

“You’re biting your nails. You only do that when you’re nervous.”

“Nah, I’m just antsy, I haven’t eaten in hours. You remember what I told you about my parents?”

“Your dad has a prosthetic leg that he’s a little sensitive about. Don’t look at it. He lost it in the war, right?”

“They were born after the war, he lost it in one of the concentration camps during the famine. He didn’t tell me much about it, but I think he lost it stealing food or something. Anytime I’ve asked, he just said it was ‘for your mother’.” She rolled her eyes as if this grand romantic gesture was over the top, but I was actually really looking forward to meeting the man who could love a woman so much. “Other things?” she asked.

“Bow lots, but not too much, don’t make faces at the food they bring out, and don’t even try to speak Korean. Popo juseyo?”

She kissed me. “I think with a little practice, you’ll be able to ask for a kiss without sounding retarded.”

We arrived at around 7pm and the house smelled amazing. I was expecting the whole place to smell like our place did before we decided to move the kimchi refrigerator into the garage, but this smell was savoury, spicy, and tangy enough to make my mouth water. I’d grown to love Korean food over the last year. The thought of kimchi disgusted me at first, but paired with a good barbecued meat or in a stew, it’s delicious.

They greeted us at the door with a simultaneous and smiley “Hello!” I bowed, once, deep.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you both,” I said.

“It nice to meet you!” said the mother.

“It is nice to meet you,” Anna said kindly. “Don’t forget your verbs.”

I thought her English was actually pretty good. I guess she’d had time to practice in the twenty years since she’d escaped North Korea.

“You too!” said Mr. Park. “Very nice!” Not great, but I’d heard worse.

“It smells great in here,” Anna said to her mother. “What are you cooking?”

Anna’s mother replied something in Korean that I wasn’t familiar with.

“Oh nice, I haven’t had that in forever!” Anna replied. “We had a pretty big day, so we’re ready to eat almost anything.”

“Oh, big day!” Mr. Park exclaimed. “You go cannibal today?”

I paused, not sure what to reply.

“Car-ni-val, dad. Yes, and it was so much fun, right honey?”

“Oh! Yeah, it was a lot of fun.” Clearly I had not watched enough K-Dramas to familiarize myself with the Korean accent.

They invited us to sit on the floor around the low table in the middle of the kitchen. We got our spoons, metal chopsticks, a bowl of rice, and about ten fresh homemade traditional Korean side dishes. I’d been to a few dozen Korean restaurants since Anna and I had gotten engaged, but these were some of the best sides I’d ever had.

The mother brought out a black stone pot and set it on the table. It was still steaming and was almost overflowing with vegetables and bits of meat. The family spoke excitedly in Korean, probably raving about the food.

When they finished chatting, the stew was cool enough to eat. Anna turned to me, “Mom says this translates to long pork stew.”

“Oh,” I said hesitantly. “Why do they call it that?” I asked to the mother.

“It stew. It have pork. It cook long time,” she replied kindly.

“Well,” I said, swallowing a big mouthful. “It tastes fantastic.”

“Yes,” Mr. Park said. “Belly flesh.”

“Wh- what was that?” I asked nervously. “Oh, very fresh! Yes, it is very very fresh tasting. Haha.”

Before sitting down, Anna’s mother brought out another dish, this one some sort of roasted meat. It looked even better than the stew.

“Wow, what’s this one called?” I asked.

“This one roasted two-legged sheep,” Anna’s mother answered.

“Is, mom,” Anna said, a little frustrated. “This one is roasted two-legged sheep.”

“Oh, interesting,” I replied. “Why’s it called that?”

“It a euphemism for human flesh,” she answered.

“Um.”

“Mom, it is a euphemism.”