An Afternoon with Jeong Kwan

What do Buddhism, nature and vegetarian cooking have in common? Jeong Kwan, a monk, philosopher and culinary chef. Discover Kwan's teachings and how they can benefit your outlook.

It's November and the remote Naejangsan mountains are speckled red and yellow with autumnal leaves. I walk down a path shrouded by forest trees and next to a silver lake. The waters are so still there's not even a ripple just a mirrors image of a grey stone bridge and a temple as old as time, standing majestically. Natures sounds, smells and sights consume me and it becomes apparent that this is no ordinary place. This is the Baekyangsa temple, a hub of beauty, spirituality and a learning center for the mind, body and soul. And it just so happens to be home to monk, philosopher and chef Jeong Kwan.

Jeong Kwan became a person of interest to me after discovering the Netflix series Chef's Table. In the show, Jeong instantly stood out and how could she not? Here's a Buddhist monk, with no attachments, who cooks as good as any Michelin star chef whilst embracing intricacies of nature, time and traditional techniques. This outlook is what inspired me to visit South Korea and learn more about Jeong's way of life.

To fully appreciate the culture first we must understand some basic principles. In South Korea monks believe food is simply here to prevent the body from wasting away and to share an awakening with other beings. So they must eat in silence to prevent idle thoughts and create awareness, and only take what they need without preference to avoid the desire of wanting what tastes good and rejecting what doesn't.

What makes Kwan revolutionary is that she encompasses Buddhist morals, using nature as a narrative whilst combining multiple cooking techniques which result in flavourful food that nourishes the mind, body and soul. Buddhism lays the foundation for her to build upon with concepts such as the three virtues of foodstuffs and the six flavours. The three virtues is an attitude which depicts all food must be salutary (beneficial for health), hygienic and edible. Diets must be strictly vegetarian whilst excluding five pungent spices (garlic, chives, spring onions, allium and asafoetida). This is because all foods hold a spiritual energy and meat is prohibited to prevent harm, while the five spices inhibit a calm state of mind.

The six flavours categorise all food as; sweet, salty, spicy, bitter, sour and insipid. A well balanced dish is said to be predominately insipid, a likely reason why temple food has been cast as boring and tasteless. However, this is not the case where Kwan is concerned. The dishes are balanced but flavourful, from the first mouthful you can taste the goodness and piquancy which is drawn from her connection with nature.

By utilising the seasons she is able to showcase natures flavours in all their glory, for instance her braised shiitake mushrooms which are organically grown, picked and harvested from her temple garden, all varying in shape and size. Nothing is wasted and imperfections which might matter to the modern consumer have no place here. She uses three ingredients; shiitake, soya and sesame along with two techniques, braising and glazing. It's simple but the end result is mouthwatering. A once dull mushroom now consists of a meaty and soft texture coated in a savoury glaze of aged soy sauce and memorable sesame. Decorated with the colourful leaves of Autumn.

Innovation is often born out of limitation, finding new ways to make the most of what you have. Kwan only cooks with what grows in her garden, province or country and so by this very limitation she must innovate through techniques to diversify flavour. One of the most common techniques used is fermentation. A tried and tested process in which an organism converts a carbohydrate (starch or a sugar) into an alcohol or an acid. Kwan explains that through time flavours evolve and change, such as her soy sauce. With each year that passes the soy sauce continues to ferment and the flavour deepens and becomes more intense. Through the passing of time her belief is that you can eat and share with the generations of the past, present and future. This technique is used for making miso, kimchi, jocheong and gochujang and many other flavourful ingredients. Where better to sample the infamous Kimchi, perhaps the most well known food of Korea, than at Baekyangsa temple made by Jeong Kwan. This dish still resonates, made from a humble cabbage coated in layers of jocheong (rice syrup), soy sauce, chilli and red pepper powder that is fermented over time. The outcome was an assault on the senses. A crisp and crunchy texture with an umami laden deep complexity engaging all the taste buds with a spicy fizz.

It doesn't stop here, Kwan also invokes other techniques such as dehydrating, pickling and preserving natures abundance to ensure nothing goes to waste which simultaneously brings a range of contrasts and diverse flavours to the plate. Another dish which caught my affection was the cucumber and tofu "canapes". While preparing the ingredients she was always smiling and having fun, through her passion of cooking she unifies people and it is unity through food that brings her so much joy. As she crumbled the tofu she explained the process with intent to involve those around her, an innate ability to teach and share the experience, tasting and explaining as she went. And it occurred to me that although we had never met and we couldn't speak the same language food was the universal bond that brought us together. There's something poetic about eating Jeong Kwan's food because it is not just food she is sharing with you. It's her entire belief system, the labour of her garden and her awareness in providing nourishment for others. She deeply cares for the ingredients with an altruistic compassion and respect for the ecosystem which allows her to become a creator in her own right.

After the cooking had commenced Kwan, her staff and all the like minded individuals present were invited to a banquet lunch where many dishes had been prepared (vegetarian of course) and none were lacking in flavour. All ingredients were seasonal, varying in texture, appearance and aroma while some were spicier than others and some more colourful. At this point the food was as interesting as the experience after all 15 nationalities present had been brought together around the same table. During this time we shared conversations where we for a moment entered each others lives briefly. I spoke with a jewellery design student from Austria, a monk who had been deeply affected by riots in her home city of Hong Kong, a neurologist from Malaysia and many more interesting characters.

Throughout the entire experience it reassured something I had always believed, that the philosophy of cooking and sharing foods brings about a harmony with those who you are sharing the experience with. It is no longer just a meal but an offering of emotion, an opportunity to convey conversation and share cultures. In my family, we have always eaten together, preparing and sharing home cooked meals and it is the time together that is really cherished. This was the same as my time as a student at university with communal spaghetti Tuesdays or Dominoes Fridays. And this aligns with Kwan's belief that "with food we can share and communicate our emotions. It is with that mindset of sharing which is really what you are eating."

Love and unity are the heart of Kwan's teachings. Whilst Buddhism is the skeleton shaping the ideas, natures ingredients are the muscles that structure the dishes and time and techniques are the ancestral blood that flows as flavour cementing everything together. We can all take a leaf out of Kwan's book by thinking compassionately about our ingredients origins as well as taking to the kitchen and using food as an avenue to bring people together for the greater good.