EDITING

Below is an editing sample from a piece on the Venerable Jeongkwan, a chef of Korean temple food, published in MorningCalm magazine. Click here for the PDF.

BEFORE

I wake up excited to the bell sound and the chanting song of the monks during their morning prayer at baekyangsa temple. Arriving here last night, I stayed over to learn more about Korean temple food which starts at 6am in the morning and ends by lunch time (monks eat twice daily, no food consumption after noon time). This temple I am staying in was founded in 632AD and is settled in the midst of naejangsan national park at the bottom of a mountain and surrounded by ancient Japanese torreya trees which were planted during the Goryeo dynasty (1270 - 1355). Waking up to this setting, away from the hectic noise of the city, gives me an extraordinary boost to the energy in a way I cannot explain.

...

To wrap up my visit, Jeong Kwan prepares us her favorite lotus flower tea. She harvests the lotus flowers shortly before they bloom and puts them into the freezer. Then for special occasions thaws them in hot water and opens the flower petals carefully one by one to reveal the beauty in their shapes. While sharing the enlightenment tea with Jeong Kwan I feel overwhelmed with inspiration by her philosophy and approach to nature, and I believe that this approach to temple food—or vegan diet as we would know it in the west, could be a solution to our global concerns especially with the global warming and sustainability of food.

AFTER

I wake up to the sound of a bell signaling the morning prayer at Baegyangsa Temple. At this centuries-old Buddhist sanctuary in Jeollanam-do Province, the days begin much earlier than most are used to. There’s perhaps no better place for an introduction to Korea’s Buddhist temple cuisine than Baegyangsa, where the Venerable Jeongkwan resides in the nearby Cheonjinam Hermitage. In the decades since she entered the temple, renown of her cooking has spread around the world. 

I first glimpse Jeongkwan in her kitchen — a homey setting as close to nature as the food that’s created within it. There’s a small stone water trough and two wood-fired stoves over which giant gamasot (traditional Korean cooking cauldrons) have been placed. 

“You’re early!” Jeongkwan says upon seeing me. I glance at the time and realize that she’s right.

...

“At our temple we use no recipes. When someone enters the temple, they start by making side dishes.” For about two years, this is all they do in the kitchen. She says this culinary rite of passage is a lesson in life’s wisdoms and virtues. After all, Korean temple cuisine knows a thing or two about letting the seasons shape the character of something. According to Jeongkwan, monks don’t begin to make jang until 10 to 20 years after they’ve entered the temple. 

It’s now late afternoon. The Venerable Jeongkwan and I sit in the waning sun and sip our tea. Soon I’ll have to return to the city. But for now, we have all the time in the world.

COMMENTS

Time is the unifying theme of this piece. Meals are ordered around the time of day, and traditional Korean temple food relies on aging ingredients to make seasoning. The first draft opens with a tolling bell that marks the start of the day, so I edited around this idea. Threaded through the piece is the feeling that we constantly reckon with the time. It's morning, it's evening — you're late, you're early.

The first draft’s ending touches on a special moment during our trip: taking tea with Jeongkwan after a hard-earned meal. But it’s too “tell” and not enough “show.” Also, while the sustainability of Buddhist temple cuisine is admirable, it’s not the ending that the rest of the piece built up to.

The setting can speak for itself. Drinking tea is a moment of relaxation. It's no longer morning, and we’ve finally allowed the hours to run away from us. The decades-long rite of passage that’s honored in the temple kitchens shows how different the tempo of life can be.