Some recipes stay in the house.
Not because they are complicated. Because once something gets that dialed in, you stop treating it like information and start treating it like property.
My galbi marinade lived there for a while.
It was not secrecy. It was precision. Too much sweetness and it goes soft. Too much soy and it gets muddy. Too much pear and it turns into a fruit project. The point is balance that holds once the fire hits it.
Sweet, salty, allium, sesame, a little depth, enough acid to keep it awake. Then time. Not a week. Not some overnight excess that ruins the texture. Long enough to get in. Short enough to keep the meat intact.
That is the part people miss. Good marinades are not louder versions of themselves. They are controlled.
Sharing it felt wrong at first. Like giving away something that took too many rounds to get right. Then again, keeping a good marinade to yourself starts to look a little small.
So I shared it.
Because some things get better once they leave your kitchen and come back wearing someone else’s smoke, someone else’s grill, someone else’s adjustments.
That is how food stays alive.
It can start as yours and still be worth handing off.
Especially when it can survive the handoff.
Recipe, galbi marinade
