‘Crumbs’ of memory

Kim Sunée on the tastes and travels of her search for identity

 

 

INTERVIEW. When Kim Sunée was three years old, her mother abandoned her in a South Korean marketplace with a handful of crumbs in her hand; the event that foreshadowed a life of complexity and culinary adventure. Her new memoir, “Trail of Crumbs: Hunger, Love, and the Search for Home” (Grand Central, $25), chronicles Sunée’s adoption and move to New Orleans extensive travels and love affair with L’Occitone founder Olivier Baussan in pastoral Provence, ending chapters with appropriate recipes. Metro spoke to Sunée about food, memory and comfort.

You say that you’re unsure about some facts concerning your childhood. How important were facts in writing your memoir?
I think everybody remembers things differently. I tried as much as possible to go back to my family and ask them questions ... a lot of it is what we remember differently.

Why is food so closely associated with memory?
We know that taste conjures up memory, all the way back to Proust. I can truly remember meals I had 10 years ago very distinctly, but I think it’s my particular relating to food. It’s obviously very sensual.

Are there foods you avoid because they have bad associations?
Not necessarily. Because you never eat the same meal twice, ever, no matter how many times you make the same recipe. It’s always different because of who you’re with, obviously. And there are some things I remember as being disasters, and cooking angry. You’d never try to replicate that. But I think food in most cases is celebratory.

What are your comfort foods? What tastes like home?
Just a really great Provencal sort of beef daube, maybe. Pasta, of course, or anything with cream and pancetta. And rice, or jambalaya, creamy risotto. Anything with craime fraiche!

What are your comfort foods? What tastes like home?
Just a really great Provencal sort of beef taupe, maybe. Pasta, of course, or anything with cream and pancetta. And rice, or jambalaya, creamy risotto. Anything with craime fraiche! ... I love macaroni and cheese, I love fried chicken. Those are also comfort foods. I don’t have a sweet tooth.

You talk about being in the kitchen giving you a subtle power. How so?
It wasn’t even about control, but I could do something well. My grandfather, his greatest joy was in being able to make something. And he was a very rustic, one-pot-cooking kind of person, nothing fancy. But just the joy of sharing that and giving some kind of nourishment, both literal and metaphorical, was very empowering.