Words by Sidney Kim, Yi Dynasty Korean BBQ Restaurant & Hot Pot
In our family, the holidays don’t officially begin until the galbi dumplings hit the table. These hand-folded parcels of joy are filled with finely chopped short-rib meat, crisp vegetables and a splash of our family’s traditional galbi marinade – a recipe that creates the perfect balance between celebratory richness and nostalgic depth. It’s the kind of flavour that stops you mid-bite and for us, triggers memories of home, laughter and the unmistakable feeling of being surrounded by love.
For our family, galbi dumplings are never just a dish, they’re a ritual.
Every year, the kitchen transformed into a bustling, fragrant hub with generations of women sitting shoulder to shoulder, folding dumplings by hand. There were bowls of aromatic fillings, towers of dumpling wrappers and conversations meandering through old stores and new jokes. My mother would say to me "dumplings taste better when they are folded with laughter” and she was right. The folding process – pinch, fold, press – feels sacred, a shared choreography of care.

Now, living on the Gold Coast, I’ve passed the tradition to my children. They help me shape the dumplings, giggling as they sneak tastes of the filling and dust flour on each other like it’s snow. When the dumplings finally steam or sizzle in the pan, the aromas fill the entire house. Just like that, the holiday has truly begun.
To us, galbi dumplings are more than food. They are togetherness made tangible, a celebration of craftsmanship and proof that the best things are made together, by hand, one piece at a time.
The recipe begins with a simple philosophy passed down through generations in our family: "Great flavours come from nature, not shortcuts”
The heart of our galbi dumplings lies in the marinade – a blend of soy sauce, fresh apple, onion, ginger, garlic and the essential Korean pear. This recipe didn’t start in a restaurant kitchen, but was born on my grandmother’s wooding chopping board in Jeonju, South Korea. She believed that the right combination of fresh fruit and vegetables could unlock the deepest, most soulful notes in meat.

Together, they became a sauce that was equal parts comfort and complexity. Simmering on the stove, the whole house filled with its fragrance. The first signs that celebration was coming. It was used for everything from holiday bulgogi to special-occasion galbi and on our most treasured days, folded into dumpling filling.
Today, I still follow her method in my Australian kitchen. No shortcuts, fresh fruits, fresh aromatics, slow blending, patience and lots of laughter. My children know the scent the moment it hits the air.
"Mum is making the special sauce” they’ll say.
It’s more than a marinade. It’s a thread that connects our past in Jeonju to our present on the Gold Coast. A reminder of the hands that prepared it before mine.
It’s a memory, love, heritage. Most importantly, it’s the kind of flavour that never fades.
Passed Down the Table is a heartwarming holiday series celebrating the recipes that transcend time — dishes carried in memory, shaped by hand, and seasoned with stories. From humble kitchens to festive tables, these are the meals that connect generations, one bite at a time.







