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Loaded Pub Fries — Comfort Food for the Days You’re Putting Yourself Back Together

Post-DNA energy. The results have given me a strange confidence — not that I needed genetic proof to be Korean (the cooking proved that), but the quantification of it, the 99.7%, has shifted something in my posture. I walk differently. Not physically — metaphorically. I carry the Korean-ness more visibly, more assertively, as if the test gave me permission to be loud about what I've been building quietly for two years. The kimchi in my dosirak at work is more confidently placed. The Korean on my phone (the wallpaper is now a photo from Gwangjang Market) is more deliberately displayed. Small things. Public things. The public declaration of an identity that I used to keep private, and the privacy was protection but also hiding, and I'm done hiding. 99.7% Korean. Not hiding behind that number. Standing in front of it.

This week I reached out to the Korean adoptee community about DNA databases specifically designed for reunion. The major ones: Korea Adoption Services (KAS), which maintains records for many adoption agencies; GOA'L (Global Overseas Adoptees' Link), which offers search assistance; and 325Kamra, a DNA-based matching service specifically for Korean adoptees and birth families. I read testimonials from adoptees who've used these services — some found their birth families, some didn't, some found families that wanted to be found and some found families that didn't, and the spectrum of outcomes is as wide as the spectrum of human experience, and every outcome is valid, and every search is brave.

I haven't submitted to any of them yet. But I'm reading. I'm learning. I'm acclimatizing. Base camp, as Dr. Yoon would say. The summit is visible now, and it's both closer and farther than it looks. Closer because I can see the path. Farther because the path involves emotions I haven't felt yet and can't prepare for.

Cooking: I made haejang-guk — Korean hangover soup, a rich beef broth with napa cabbage and coagulated ox blood. The ox blood is optional (and hard to find — I had to special-order it through H Mart), and the dish is traditionally eaten the morning after heavy drinking to restore the body. I don't drink heavily, but the dish's purpose — restoration, repair, the rebuilding of a depleted system — felt metaphorically appropriate. I'm in a restoration phase. The Korea trip restored something. The DNA test confirmed something. The adoption search research is preparing something. And the haejang-guk — warm, beefy, slightly spicy — is the culinary version of restoration: food that puts you back together after something has taken you apart.

Saturday: Bellevue. Karen made her clam chowder (winter staple, cream-based, thick). I brought leftover haejang-guk, which I presented with the disclaimer: "This has ox blood in it." David's face was a photograph. Karen's face was a photograph. Neither of them tried it. Some Korean foods remain adventures-for-one, and haejang-guk with ox blood is, I accept, a bridge too far for the Parks. I ate their shares. More for me. The restoration continues, one bowl of ox blood soup at a time, whether the Parks are watching or not.

The haejang-guk did its work—restoration in a bowl, warm and unapologetic—but not every restorative meal needs to be a cultural deep dive or a special-order ingredient from H Mart. Some weeks the restoration is quiet and the comfort food is loud, and these Loaded Pub Fries are exactly that: no subtlety, no subtext, just a generous pile of crispy fries under a blanket of cheese and bacon that says you’ve earned this. After a week of DNA databases and adoption registries and the particular emotional weight of preparing yourself to be found, sometimes the most honest thing you can do is make something that doesn’t ask anything of you in return.

Loaded Pub Fries

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 2 lbs russet potatoes, scrubbed and cut into 1/4-inch fries
  • 3 tbsp olive oil
  • 1 tsp garlic powder
  • 1 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1/2 tsp onion powder
  • 1 tsp kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 tsp black pepper
  • 6 strips thick-cut bacon
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
  • 1/2 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
  • 1/2 cup sour cream
  • 4 green onions, thinly sliced
  • 1 jalapeño, thinly sliced (optional)
  • Hot sauce, for serving (optional)

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet (or two) with parchment paper. Soak the cut fries in cold water for 10 minutes to draw out starch, then drain and pat completely dry with paper towels—this step is what gets you crispy.
  2. Season the fries. Toss the dried fries in a large bowl with olive oil, garlic powder, smoked paprika, onion powder, salt, and black pepper until evenly coated. Spread in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet, making sure the fries aren’t overlapping.
  3. Bake until golden. Roast for 25–30 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until the fries are deep golden and crisp at the edges. If using two pans, rotate them top to bottom at the flip.
  4. Cook the bacon. While the fries roast, cook the bacon in a skillet over medium heat until crispy, about 8 minutes. Drain on paper towels and crumble into bite-sized pieces.
  5. Load and melt. Remove the fries from the oven. Pile them onto one baking sheet (or a cast-iron skillet for presentation). Scatter the cheddar and Monterey Jack evenly over the top. Return to the oven for 4–5 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted and beginning to bubble.
  6. Finish and serve. Pull the pan from the oven and immediately top with crumbled bacon, dollops of sour cream, green onions, and jalapeño slices if using. Serve straight from the pan with hot sauce on the side. Eat immediately—loaded fries wait for no one.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 540 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 31g | Carbs: 49g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 820mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 101 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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