Griffin Theatre Presents Koreaboo

Koreaboo Offers A Taste Of Korean Cuisine, Connection, and Cultural Identity

By Lucy Pearson Read More Surry Hills Content

Michelle Lim Davidson’s new play, Koreaboo, being staged by Griffin Theatre Company, is running from 14 June to 20 July 2025 at Belvoir St Theatre. The production continues Griffin Theatre Company's proud legacy as Australia’s home for bold new stories.

In Koreaboo, food becomes a silent language of care between a Korean Australian girl, Hannah, and her mother - one that tries, and sometimes fails, to bridge a generational and cultural gap.

It’s a theme that resonates deeply with many from immigrant families, including Korean Australian chef and food writer Heather Jeong, who has dedicated her work to sharing the richness of Korean cuisine with Australian audiences. Here, she reflects on food as a connection, the evolution of Korean womanhood, and what she wishes more people understood about her culture beyond K-pop and kimchi. We sat down with Michelle to talk about the upcoming production.

Food is often a bridge in immigrant families - have you seen this in your own life or community, and how might food help reconnect people like Hannah and her Umma?

Growing up as a Korean Australian, food was always our love language. Through food, we expressed love, gratitude - even apology. Sharing meals kept us emotionally safe, often replacing words with flavours. For Hannah and her Umma, connection through food could’ve helped, but their culinary expectations didn’t always align. Umma, busy running the mart, couldn’t meet Hannah’s romanticised vision of Korean cooking - like making kimchi from scratch. Still, she offered what she could: ramyun and banana milk. Even convenience food can carry love when it’s shared instinctively.

In Koreaboo, Hannah relies on optimism and Google Translate. In your own work introducing Korean food to Australians, how do you navigate language, cultural nuance, and authenticity?

Food is a universal language. A well-prepared meal, offered with care, doesn’t need translation. I’ve found that when you open up Korean cuisine - its history, rituals, and flavours - people respond with curiosity and respect. As for authenticity, that’s an evolving concept. My authentic self grows and shifts over time, and so does Korean cuisine. It’s not fixed; it adapts.

This story touches on intergenerational expectations, especially for women. You started cooking at nine to support your mum. How did that shape your understanding of Korean womanhood and responsibility?

I learned early that Korean women were powerful - but that power had to be wrapped in passiveness. They were expected to be good mothers, educate children, run a household, support their husbands, and honour their elders. The burden was relentless. While many women today push back against these expectations, in my mother’s generation, the pressure came not only from men, but from within the family structure. Responsibility was inherited, not chosen.

K-Pop, kimchi, and hanboks are entry points into Korean culture for many Westerners. What deeper aspects do you wish people understood?

Korea has a turbulent history, but Koreans rose from trauma with resilience and grace. At our core, we’re not just warriors - we're scholars, poets, and artists. We value family, honour our ancestors, and hold deep spiritual traditions. K-pop isn’t a fluke; it comes from a culture that has long nurtured creativity.

One concept I wish more people knew is Han - a collective emotion of unresolved sorrow and longing born from centuries of invasion and hardship. It’s not just historical - it lives in daily life and even in pop culture. Han is the emotional undertone of the Korean spirit: quiet, enduring, and deeply human.

Catch Koreaboo at Belvoir St Theatre from 14 June to 20 July 2025, brought to the stage by Griffin Theatre Company, champions of bold, original Australian storytelling. Tickets HERE.