If you’ve spent any amount of time in Korea, you’ve undoubtedly been asked a simple question, perhaps more than any other: “Bap meogeosseo?” (밥 먹었어?) — “Have you eaten?”

For a newcomer, this can be confusing. Is my friend asking me out to lunch? Do I look hungry? Are they just curious about my dietary schedule? But as you spend more time here, you begin to understand that this question is rarely about the literal contents of your stomach. It is one of the most fundamental expressions of care in the Korean language. It is a greeting that means, “How are you doing?” “Are you okay?” “I am thinking of you.” In a country that faced extreme poverty within living memory, ensuring that someone had a meal was the most basic and vital way to show affection and concern. It was a confirmation of well-being, a gesture that said, “As long as you are fed, you are safe.”

This deep connection between food and relationship is woven into the very fabric of the Korean language and the concept of family itself. In English, we have the word “family,” which is primarily based on blood ties. Korea, of course, has a similar word: gajok (가족). But there is another, perhaps even more intimate and meaningful word for the people closest to you: sik-gu (식구).

This beautiful word is a combination of two characters: Sik (식, 食), meaning food, and Gu (구, 口), meaning mouth. Your sik-gu are, quite literally, the “food mouths” you share meals with. This definition transcends bloodlines. Your family are your sik-gu, of course. But your closest colleagues, your teammates, and the friends who gather in your home to share a late-night snack can also become your sik-gu. It implies a bond forged not by birth, but by the consistent, intimate act of sharing sustenance. To invite someone to share a meal is to invite them into your inner circle; to become sik-gu is to become family.

You can see this philosophy reflected in the layout of a traditional Korean dining table. Unlike many Western cultures where each person has their own large plate, a Korean meal is a communal affair. In the center of the table, a single, bubbling stew (jjigae, 찌개) is placed for everyone to share. A delightful array of side dishes (banchan, 반찬) are scattered across the table, meant to be enjoyed by all. Everyone dips their spoon into the same pot, passing dishes back and forth.

This act of eating from a shared vessel is a powerful ritual. It physically breaks down the barriers between individuals, transforming “I” and “you” into a collective “we” (uri, 우리). It’s an act of trust and intimacy. By sharing a meal in this way, you are creating a shared experience that nourishes not just the body, but the relationship itself.

This is the very essence of what we want to build at Joyful Hub. While we may not share a bubbling pot of kimchi stew at every meetup, we strive to create a “communal table” of conversation. Our weekly themes are the side dishes, and your personal stories are the main course. When we listen to each other with patience, laugh at a shared joke, or empathize with a personal struggle, we are, in a sense, becoming sik-gu. We are nourishing a community.

So, the next time a Korean friend looks at you and asks, “Bap meogeosseo?”, I hope you’ll hear what they’re really saying. They are opening a door, expressing their care, and inviting you to be a part of their world. And it is with that same spirit that we welcome you to Joyful Hub, with a sincere hope that you’ll join our table, share your story, and become a part of our family.