These days, I sometimes get confused about whether I live in America or in a foreign neighborhood in Korea where the streets are wide and English is spoken.

At the CPA FIRM, I write emails in English, struggle with tax issues, and feel uneasy about parking enforcement when I go out to meet clients, yet at the end of the day, a hot plate calms me down. I am a master of surviving in New Jersey and a 'grilled meat addict.'

Especially when I enter a well-known Korean restaurant in Palisades Park and grill meat, it feels like all my worries are fried away in the meat's grease.

Once I sit down, my heart is already kneeling before the meat. I barely glance at the menu, as my mind has already placed the order. "Please give me some jumulleok and pork belly. And since I'll be grilling kimchi too, please give me plenty."

Watching the staff place the meat on the grill, my eyes are already turning into crescent shapes. The sound of the marinated jumulleok hitting the hot plate, 'sizzle~', makes all the stress of the day evaporate. The moment the red marinade meets the grease on the grill, the meat has already grilled away my mood before it's even half-cooked.

What about the pork belly? The dripping grease burns deliciously, and a slight smoke rises, and from here, I start to lose my mind. Whether in America or Korea, it doesn't matter; in front of this alluring smell of meat grease, I think about how I had a tough day and want to eat quickly and go home to rest, making my eyes glisten.

Kimchi is never eaten plain. It must be grilled. At first, I place it lightly on the grill, letting the jumulleok marinade flow in and coat it. When I flip the marinated kimchi, there's a moment when I feel both crispiness and moisture at the same time. At that moment, if I place a piece of pork belly on top and eat it together, the four elements of 'meat, grease, fire, and kimchi' dance simultaneously in my mouth.

Even when I wonder what I'm working hard for, the moment I take a bite, suddenly all my worries pause. This is my way of healing.

Some people do yoga, and some drink wine, but I grill kimchi. Grilling kimchi and finishing a bowl of rice seems to be true healing.

There's also the fun of sneaking glances at the next table. Some people grill their kimchi until it's completely burnt and crispy, while others pile on more bean sprouts and garlic than meat. Everyone has their own way of expressing their grill philosophy.

I secretly try to follow along. 'What's different about eating it that way?' This curiosity fills my head, and I feel less stressed. I can't express how precious it is to have such a trivial yet happy thought while struggling to write reports at an American company.

When I finish my meal and step out, there's a slight smell of grease on my face, and my hair carries the scent of meat. I used to dislike this smell, but now it strangely feels reassuring.

As I shake off the smell of the grill from my clothes in the cold wind on my way home, the breeze from the Hudson River blows, and the New York skyline sparkles before my eyes. Even when I feel overwhelmed by high rent, tired of immigrant life, and that responsibilities only increase as I age, I feel grateful that I can be this simply happy in front of a hot plate.

Even though living in America is tough, it's these small moments that keep me going.

Next week, I will surely be sitting in front of that hot plate again. Pretending to ponder over the order for jumulleok and pork belly, I will actually order both again, and I will definitely grill the kimchi.

Thanks to that hot bite, I will gain the strength to live through another week. Grilling meat, flipping kimchi, and re-grilling life.

Thus, I eat well and endure another week.