The Doljanchi, the First Birthday Table

The doljanchi (돌잔치) is the feast held on a child's first birthday, and dol means the completing of one turn of the year. It belongs to the household rather than to any one region, and it is kept across the peninsula and in the Korean diaspora. The celebration grew out of a time when an infant's survival to a first year was far from assured, and the table is laid in thanks for that survival and in hope for a long life.

The table of the doljanchi is built around a small number of dishes, each carrying a meaning that the family understands without explanation. The rice cakes (tteok) are the centre of it. Baekseolgi, the white steamed rice cake, stands for purity and a bright, clean beginning. Songpyeon, the half-moon cakes filled and steamed over pine needles, are given for a generous and full life. Sujeonggwa, the cold drink of cinnamon and ginger, may be served alongside them, but it is the cakes that the guests expect to see. Two further preparations carry particular weight. Sosu-gyeongdan is a rice-flour dumpling rolled in red bean powder, and the red colour is held to turn away misfortune. It should not be confused with sujebi, which is a soup of hand-torn wheat dough and has no place in this role. Beside the cakes the child is given a bowl of rice and a bowl of soup; seaweed soup (miyeok-guk), made with the brown seaweed Undaria pinnatifida, is the soup most closely bound to birth, since it is eaten by the mother after delivery and is again served on a birthday. Maangchi's Big Book of Korean Cooking presents the soup as a plain dish of seaweed, beef and soy sauce, and it is on this simple footing that the feast rests. The moment that gives the occasion its fame is the doljabi. Objects are set before the child, who is encouraged to take one, and the choice is read as a sign of the years ahead. The usual objects are thread, for long life, a pencil or book for scholarship, and money for wealth. The child's hand is watched closely, and the guests laugh and call out, but the reading is a family pleasure and no more binding than that. The child is dressed for the day in the hanbok, often in bright colours, and the table is photographed before the cakes are cut and shared. It is the custom to send portions of the rice cakes to neighbours, relatives and friends, so that the blessing of the day travels beyond the house. The giving away of the food is part of the rite itself, and a household that keeps the doljanchi in any form keeps this habit of sharing. In the diaspora the doljanchi has kept its shape while the setting has changed. Families in Los Angeles, Honolulu and elsewhere hold it in the home or in a hall, and the rice cakes are still the first thing ordered or made. The dishes are few and the meanings are known, which is why the table has survived the move abroad so well.

The flavours of the doljanchi table are gentle and uncomplicated, because the dishes are meant to be shared across every age. The rice cakes are lightly sweet and chewy, the red bean coating adds a mild earthy sweetness, and the seaweed soup is clean and savoury with the depth of beef and soy sauce. Nothing on the table depends on chilli or sharp seasoning, and the whole meal reads as soft and rounded.