Thai-Style Lettuce Wraps

Fourth of July weekend, year two. Last year I brought potato salad and kimchi. This year I brought the full Korean barbecue setup and Kevin drove up from Portland as promised. Kevin. In Bellevue. For Korean BBQ on the Fourth of July. If you'd told me two years ago that this sentence would be true, I would not have believed you, because two years ago Kevin was in rehab and I was eating takeout and the idea of a Korean-American barbecue at David's Weber grill was as distant as Korea itself.

Kevin arrived Friday evening, looking good — lean, clear-eyed, with a new tattoo on his forearm (a coffee plant, because Kevin commits to his metaphors). He walked into my condo and said, "Smells different in here." I said, "Kimchi." He said, "I know. I like it." Kevin likes the way my condo smells. My condo smells Korean. Kevin likes it. The small brother-sister exchanges that contain whole narratives.

Saturday: I prepped all day while Kevin sat on my couch and told me about Bridge City Roasters — no longer just a dream but a business plan, with projected costs and potential locations and a timeline. He's been sober for eighteen months and he's building a coffee roasting company. The ambition is real this time. I can tell because it's detailed: not the big-picture dreaming of manic Kevin but the granular, step-by-step planning of sober Kevin. He asked me about LLC formation and tax structures and I pulled up my Amazon HR portal to show him the difference between employee stock and equity, and we spent an hour at my kitchen table doing business planning while my kimchi fermented on the counter and the galbi marinated in the fridge, and it was — perfect. The specific perfection of two siblings who have survived separate disasters and are now building separate empires, side by side, in a kitchen that smells like gochugaru.

Monday: Fourth of July barbecue. The Bellevue backyard, David's Weber, Korean BBQ beside American burgers. This year I brought: galbi (marinated), samgyeopsal, lettuce, ssamjang, gochujang, kimchi (my own), kkakdugi, bean sprout namul, and kimchi fried rice. Kevin manned the grill with David — the two Park men, one by blood (David) and neither by blood (both adopted, actually, but David is the father), standing over charcoal, grilling Korean meat, and the image was so domestic and so improbable that I took a mental photograph and filed it under "things I never knew I needed."

Kevin ate galbi wraps with the enthusiasm of a man who has been sober long enough to rediscover that food is one of life's genuine pleasures, not just fuel between crises. He ate seven wraps. Seven. He said, "Steph, if you ever open a restaurant, I'm investing." I said, "You don't have any money." He said, "I will. Bridge City Roasters, baby." We both laughed. Karen laughed. David smiled. The backyard was warm and the galbi was smoky and Kevin was sober and I was Korean and the Fourth of July was ours — all of ours, with all our complications and contradictions and galbi wraps and fireworks and the American flag on David's garage beside the Weber grill that was cooking Korean meat for a family that is Korean and white and adopted and imperfect and together.

My birthday is in eleven days. Twenty-four. I'll make miyeokguk again — the mothers' soup, the birthday tradition I started last year. But this year the miyeokguk will have a different weight, because in two months I'll be in Korea, and maybe next year I'll make miyeokguk from ingredients I bought in a Korean market in Korea, and maybe — maybe — I'll make it knowing my birth mother's name, or having seen her face, or having stood in the city where she lives and breathed the air she breathes. Maybe. The maybe is terrifying and beautiful and I carry it into my twenty-fourth year like a gift I haven't unwrapped yet.

The moment that keeps replaying in my head from this whole weekend isn’t the fireworks or even Kevin’s business plan — it’s him eating his seventh galbi wrap with the focused joy of someone who has rediscovered that food can just be good. The ssam concept is so simple and so perfect: a cool lettuce leaf, warm smoky filling, a swipe of ssamjang, fold, eat. If you don’t have galbi marinating in your fridge, these Thai-style lettuce wraps hit the same note — bright, savory, a little spicy, built for passing around a backyard table. Make the filling ahead, set out the leaves, and let people build their own. That’s the whole point.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4 (makes about 12 wraps)

Ingredients

1 lb ground chicken or turkey (or finely chopped mushrooms for vegetarian)
1 tablespoon neutral oil (avocado or vegetable)
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon fish sauce (or extra soy sauce)
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 tablespoon honey or brown sugar
1 – 2 teaspoons chili garlic sauce or gochujang (to taste)
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 cup shredded carrots
1/2 cup water chestnuts, drained and roughly chopped
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
1 head butter or romaine lettuce, leaves separated and washed
Crushed peanuts, sesame seeds, and lime wedges for serving

Instructions

Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, fish sauce, rice vinegar, honey, chili garlic sauce, and sesame oil. Set aside.
Cook the filling. Heat oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add garlic and ginger and cook, stirring, for about 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the ground chicken and cook, breaking it up, until no longer pink, about 6 – 8 minutes.
Add vegetables and sauce. Stir in the carrots and water chestnuts. Pour the sauce over the mixture and toss to coat. Cook for 2 – 3 more minutes until everything is glossy and the liquid has mostly absorbed.
Finish and taste. Remove from heat. Fold in the green onions and cilantro. Taste and adjust — more chili sauce for heat, a splash of rice vinegar for brightness, a drizzle of sesame oil if you want more depth.
Set up the table. Arrange lettuce leaves on a platter. Transfer the warm filling to a serving bowl. Set out crushed peanuts, sesame seeds, and lime wedges alongside. Let people build their own wraps — a spoonful of filling in the center of a leaf, toppings, fold and eat.

Nutrition (per serving, approx. 3 wraps)

Thai-Style Lettuce Wraps — The Galbi Wrap That Kevin Ate Seven Of