Imjasu-tang (Chilled Sesame Chicken Soup)

Imjasu-tang lives or dies in the grinding. Toasted sesame seeds must become fine enough to cloud and thicken the chicken broth, not float around like sand. My teacher made me pass the broth through cloth twice the first summer she taught it. I complained once. Only once.

This is a special-occasion soup, but it isn't difficult in the way people imagine court food is difficult. It asks for patience and clean hands: simmer the chicken gently, skim the broth, chill it until the fat lifts off, shred the meat neatly, salt the cucumber so it keeps its snap, and grind the sesame until the broth turns the color of pale cream. The seasoning is quiet because the sesame has to taste like sesame, the chicken like chicken, the cucumber like summer.

When times change, food must change too, so a blender is allowed here. The corner you cannot cut is straining. A gritty imjasu-tang is a sad bowl with an old name. Write down how much salt your broth needed after chilling, because cold dulls seasoning and every chicken gives a different strength. 손맛 is real. I still measure it, so it can be handed on.