When I first came to Korea, one of my frequent quests during my free time was: Where to find all the small things that would turn my [then-future] apartment into my fantasy home? Among these, I wanted to grow my own herbs. For several seasons already in Lille, I had been cultivating chives and basil on my windowsill, supplying my survival dose of homemade pesto for the summer.
I searched the larges plant markets in the city (Gangnam Underground Shopping Center, Express Bus Terminal station, in case anyone is interested). No, we have no such thing, this doesn’t exist.
I walked to the Olympic Park, where I found an organic coop. No, we sell potted ivy and cacti. Or fresh sprouts, but already cut, ready to eat.
I asked other plant eaters. Oh yeah I’ve been looking for this kind of stuff for years, if you find some I’m definitely interested. Me? I have a deal with my cousin in Busan who owns an actual garden, I don’t think you can get the stuff in Seoul.
I got resigned to only owning non edible greens.
And then the last week of May came. And all of the sudden the Gangnam Underground Shopping Center, the supermarkets, the muffin shop down the street started filling up with potted herbs one after the other. Each time I thought it would be a unique opportunity and bought whatever I could carry back home. Two pots of basil. One of rosemary. Two of spearmint, one of “choco mint” (unknown until now, but it’s basically mint that smells of chocolate. The leaves tend to be darker and more purple than spearmint. Not sure what to do with it now, I hate After Eights).
On that Friday, an ajeosshi parked his truck at the foot of Namsan and unloaded an insane amount of herbs on the sidewalk of Itaewon. Lettuce, cilantro, lavender, weird thyme-orange hybrids, 3 feet tall laurels. Everything must go.
And after this climax, everything did go. Not a single potted spearmint left in town. Mine is chilling on the balcony, roots in water, fighting the mean heat of this season.