I stepped onto the nostalgic cherry wood floor. The scent of freshly made jeon and the chatter of my uncles and aunts filled the air. “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!” bursts of greeting bloomed the room and made it just a little warmer than it already was. Wrinkled hands with water residue from cooking wrapped around my back and the small sweaty hands of my cousins held on to me begging me to come play with them. “Aigo, why are you so late! It has been years since I saw you! You’ve grown too much!”. Covid had forced us to stop our yearly family gatherings during chuseok. On chuseok all my cousins, aunts, and uncles gathered at our grandmother's home to celebrate the now-existent harvest but most importantly to conduct Jesa. 

 

My uncles and cousins would bring out the big wooden sang (low table) and place it with a hefty “Thud” in front of the traditional byeongpoong (traditional folding screen). The hanji (korean traditional paper) used for the byeongpoong was almost translucent and held sacred traditional writings written with strong black muk (traditional ink). The strokes of muk were fierce yet subtle and the calligraphy rooted with deep culture gave the writing some sort of dominance and power. By the time the byeongpoong was folded out, every angle as equally as possible, the scent of various oils and spices would fill the air. My younger cousins would stretch out their necks over the sang to just get a sniff of the various dishes my aunts would cook. Everything from tender galbi to the colorful sanjuk (skewed jeon) would be piled in some sort of pleasing geometric pattern or tower. 

 

Seeing everyone at work I jokingly snatched the tower of fresh apples from my cousin and walked up to the sang. Knowing how much effort everyone put into making the sang I wanted to place the bowl of fruit just where it had to be on th sang. First, I slipped the bowl next to the galbi (marinated beef). The size of the bowls was the same so I thought the tower of apples would also fit in harmoniously. I took a step back to critique my choice. ‘Wait! The meaty juices and the charred short ribs from the galbi don't go with the crisp apples! I need to make them seem fresh!’. I quickly took the bowl of galbi and placed it next to the platter of zucchini jeon. The earthy greeness and the bright red pepper gomeyong (garnish) on top of the slices of battered and fried zucchini seemed like they would give some color and vibrance to the meaty galbi. 

 

After a few more switches here and there I had finally reached the climax of my artistic journey. The bowls of plain white rice had towers of pink, green, and yellow songpyeon (rice cakes) that complemented them, and next to the songpyeon was a plate full of plain fish jeon that was more on the colorless side. Like so, I had every dish meticulously structured so that there was visual balance pleasing to the eye. 

 

“Eigo! What is this!” my grandmother's loud sigh startled one last move between the markerell and the yakgwa tower out of my head. “Halmoni! I designed the Jesa sang so that everything is way more beautiful for our family! Do you like it?”. Her response was so startling to me that I started to see how the sang I made more “beautiful” was complete nonsense.

 

“Haha, Kenna you dont think our josangs(ancestors) would want to have their rice with songpyeon and fruit right?”. It had never occurred to me that the Jesa sang (the offerings on the table) was offered to our ancestors. Through the Jesa, we thanked our ancestors for their sincerity and virtue. Specifically, the sang was to offer a meal to our ancestors thanking them for a great harvest with freshly harvested foods. 

 

“Look.” my grandmother said with a smile. “See how the chopsticks and spoon are facing you? That is because we are offering this table to our ancestors. So everything we set on the table follows a specific pattern.”. I moved the bowl of rice and soup next to the spoon and chopsticks. “Oh! So the rice and soup would go here right? Since we always place them there when we eat!”.

 

My grandmother and I slowly arranged the dishes again so they fit into the traditional arrangements. I learned that the sang has five rows. The first row has rice and soup, the second row has meats such as beef, chicken, and chicken. The third row has meaty soups and the fourth row has dried fish and rooty vegetables. Finally, for the last row were the desserts and fruit for our ancestors. 

 

When I took a step back to look at the sang again, I saw a well-prepared meal for my ancestors. There was some sort of beauty in how the dishes were prepared to row by row with sincerity that I hadn’t seen in my more colorful arrangements. 

 

“Come on kids gather up!”. As soon as my grandmother called for my family, I could feel the rumble of small feet and hear the cheerful chatter of my aunts and uncles. When everyone gathered in the room, the chatter died down. There was an occasional wine from one of my cousins, but the room had somehow absorbed the sincerity and reverence presented through our Jesa sang.