Strange looking things that taste good
Noryangjin fish market. Could be a tourist trap or a foodie's delight. Unfortunately, the outcome depends on your bargaining skills, which are partially dependent on your language skills. Korean of course would be preferable, but it just so happens the aunties manning the more tourist-friendly part of the market are fluent in Mandarin Chinese, so that could be another avenue to avoid getting ripped off. I was lucky, my friend's mum guided us through the whole experience. Normally I love a challenge and I enjoy working hard for my food, but for once it was great, sitting back, getting ready to eat a plethora of delicious critters, albeit a bit unchallenging. I guess sometimes food adventures should require little or no effort.
First up. Abalone sashimi. Actually, I'm not a fan of abalone when it's cooked, in general. I am however, a big fan when it's really, really fresh, and really, really uncooked – i.e. in sashimi form. Sweet with the perfect balance of chew and bite, when dipped in a garlic-chilli sauce, is indulgence at its best.
Alongside the abalone came sashimi'ed sea squirt. Now, at first glance, you might be wondering whether this is an internal organ of an mythical beast or a gene-splicing experiment gone slightly amiss. I'd never tried it before, and all I knew was that Koreans like to add it to a variety of spicy dishes to add sweetness. At first, it was a bit too soft and even slightly slimey, but then the sweetness hit my tastebuds. It wasn't overpowering, and definitely had that very slightly briney edge, which made it a very satisfying kind of sweetness.
Even better, the sweet aftertaste, lingers for a while on the palate, and leaves a slightly 'iron'-esque feeling in your mouth (you know, after you eat too much spinach, but this is lighter and more pleasant). Highly recommended if you're looking to add a 'try a strange looking but delicious new type of seafood' to your new year's resolutions next year.
Then, the touristy thing. Sannakji, or live octopus, brutally dismembered in front of your eyes. (Yes, it was pretty uncensored, I could almost hear the octopus screaming, if these arthropods can scream that is.) Its chopped up corpse is mixed with a bit of sesame oil, then you pick up the still-wriggling tentacles, and place into your mouth. Remember to chew, I was advised. I did chew really really hard, but my mistake was unfortunately trying to put too much in my mouth. One tentacle managed to grip the outside of my lip, and wouldn't let go. For a dead octopus, it put up a pretty good fight. Taste wise, it was nice, slightly sweet and not overly chewy, but it wasn't a patch on the afore-eaten abalone and sea squirt.
Noryangjin Fisheries Wholesale Market (노량진수산물도매시장)
674 Nodeul-ro, Dongjak-gu, 서울특별시 South Korea
Open 24 hours – but best to go for an early lunch
Subtlety can be surprisingly addictive
I love my Jajangmyeon. These Chinese-Korean black bean noodles were introduced to me by one of my Korean friends when I first started to get immersed into this cuisine around seven years ago. They don't look pretty, and the description of noodles covered in black bean sauce doesn't really whet you appetite at first glance. But don't let that fool you, these noodles will grow on you, quickly, and soon you might even start to eat the instant noodle version (Chapaghetti) in places devoid of this comforting treat.
So, naturally, I had a make a pilgrimage to one of Seoul's most traditional Jajangmyeon eateries; Sinseonggak. When you see the humble, understated nature of this place, you immediately know two things: (1) they probably do one or two things much better than anyone else (2) they won't take shortcuts to produce a stunning plate of food.
For those of you who may have eaten Jajangmyeon abroad, you might be used to a slightly sweet sauce. That's what I have been accustomed to, at least. So when I took my first bite of these noodles, I must admit, I found the sauce slightly bland. But then the flavours started to evolve on my palate. I appreciated the subtle saltiness of the black beans, the mild sweetness of the onions, the touch of richness from the pork – within a few bites I had realised that I had found a sauce which was unbelievably well balanced.
The hand-pulled noodles, made fresh everyday on the premises, were equally sublime. Slightly chewy, slippery and not too heavy, they act as the perfect carrier for the subtle-yet-addictive black sauce. The fried mandu (dumplings) were tasty but were no where near as stellar as the noodles. (On a future visit, I will definitely get the Tang Yu suk, or Chinese-Korean sweet and sour pork).
All in all, this place is really worth making a mini pilgrimage for. For a large bowl of Jajangmyeon, it'll make a very small dent in your wallet, at only 5000 Won. Don't expect fantastic ambiance, but expect homely hospitality and subtle-yet-addictive bowls of noodle goodness.
Sinseonggak 신성각
2-463 Singongdeok-dong, Mapo-gu, Seoul, South Korea (quite hard to find, address in Korean below):
서울시 마포구 신공덕동 2-463
Phone: 02-716-1210
Open Mon – Sat 11:30 – 19:30; Closed Sundays
Pork belly. Temporary, materialistic happiness
Two of the world's best inventions come together when one gets to lay their tongue on samgyeopsal, or barbequed pork belly, a Korean classic. For those of you familiar with Korean cuisine, the pork is normally sliced thinly and barbequed quickly, resulting in crispy pork belly. But I love the belly when it's crisp on the outside and juicy in the middle.
Fortunately, samgyeopsal at 길목 (Gilmok) resolves this dilemma. By cutting the pork belly into chunky pieces only after a large slab has been cooking away for a bit on the barbeque, this allows the centre of each porky piece to stay most and juicy, whilst the outside can develop that smokey, charred and crispy exterior which most humans cannot resist.
It is great dipped in a bit of salt and eaten on its own, or placed in a piece of lettuce together with rice and doenjang (fermented Korean soy bean paste) and wolfed down. Both are excitingly indulgent in their own ways.
This restaurant also does a pretty good pork shoulder, though, for me, it's all about the belly. Wash down with soju and you'll be extremely happy, at least in that temporary, materialistic kind of way.
길목 (Gilmok)
10, Yeongdong-daero 129-gil, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
http://www.diningcode.com/profile.php?rid=xwpkfkrWvUeC&rank=9
Top drawer patties
Gaze at the picture below. Looks like two burger patties and rice, with some salad. Other than the purple tinge on the rice, one might think that this plate of food appears to be pretty mundane. But looks can be very, very deceiving.
Tteokgalbi, a speciality of Jeonju, is given a slightly modern twist at Hanok Tteok Galbi. A short meander away from the Hanok village, this restaurant takes korean beef, minces it up a bit, marinates the meat in what I can theorise was a mixture of asian pear, soy and sesame, and grills it to perfection. Succulent, ridiculously juicy and a tad sweet, these patties were above ordinary. The carnivore inside of me was highly satisfied. The only room for improvement in my eyes would have been more caramelisation on the outside of the patties, but sometimes you shouldn't ask for too much.
With the meat setting the bar so high, sometimes the co-stars can just play a cameo role. But here, they justify their salaries and support the main act in a very professional manner. Korean rice, perfumed with the freshness of purple perilla, refreshing daikon pickle and slightly spicy kimchi, plus salad, complete what is an outstanding meal deal. For the rest, all I'd say is you'll get solid service in modern, clean surroundings. 9000Won well spent.
Hanok Tteok Galbi (Hanok Village)
Pungnamdong 1(il)-ga, Wansan-gu, Jeonji-si, Jeollabuk-do, South Korea
Patent your prawns
I didn't know you could patent food. I mean, who does? (Other than IP lawyers?) And who would?Well, I learnt something new on the day I decided to pay Mimine at visit, in the too-hip-for-me district of Hongdae.
So what could justify the costs of a patent application and its associated maintenance fees? Apparently fried shrimp with a crunch like no other. I must say that my first bite produced a pretty impressive crunching sound, and the prawns were juicy, and the special types of salt were a nice touch, but I wasn't blown away. They were tasty fried shrimp, but not necessarily prawns of patentable proportions in my view.
The tteokbokki (rice cakes and fish paste in a sweet spicy sauce) were however excellent. The rice cakes had that perfect level of chew, whilst not being too starchy. And the sauce was a demonstration of how to marry spiciness and sweetness in a lasting way, and made for an additional friend to dip the crispy pieces of intellectual property in.
Overall, good, solid food, but the patent doesn't mean it is anything close to being earth shattering. On reflection, I guess the patent is a pretty smart move – whilst it doesn't make the food any more interesting, it gets the punters through the door.
Mimine 미미네
367-1 Seogyo-dong, Mapo-gu, Seoul, South Korea
Open Daily 12:00 – 22:00
The art of fried chicken
I do love my fried chicken. But I hate it when it's greasy, or when the skin is not crisp, or when the meat has been dried out. Korean fried chicken, when done properly, solves these problems with aplomb.
Hanchu fried chicken is probably a leading light in this art, at least in Seoul. Their signature fried chicken ticks all the standard pre-requisites: moist meat, crispy batter and definitely not greasy. What makes this chicken unique is the use of chilli peppers in the batter – adding a bit of a kick and a distinctive flavour to the batter, as well as the batter itself, which is crisp to the point of almost being crunchy, and clings tightly to the chicken - a bit of a detour from the American way of having a high-surface area fried bird where u have plenty crispy debris flying off on their own accord.
They also do the same dish but doused with their sweet-ish chilli sauce, which is good, but the original allows you to appreciate the subtle interactions between the batter-chilli-chicken trifecta more easily. Really moreish stuff.
Jalapenos stuffed with minced pork and deep fried, seemed like a good idea, and it was not bad, but I felt the pork meat was slightly plain and could've done with something else, like perilla or chilli or some duenjang.
The tteokbokki, or rice cakes swimming in a sweet and spicy chilli broth, was also pretty good, and provided the extra kick that the fried jalapenos were screaming out to be dipped in.
I'm sure there are swathes of other delicious fried chicken places in Seoul, but this place in particular showcases the skill and dedication that deep-frying craftsmen put into the art of Korean fried chicken.
(주)한추 - Han Chu
68 Nonhyeon-ro 175-gil, Gangnam-gu, 서울특별시 South Korea
Open Daily 4pm – 2am
Ripped Beef
Argentine gaucho steak, Basque txuleton, Kobe wagyu. All famous beef 'brands' in their own right. But especially in the minds of most people here in the West, Korean beef doesn't normally feature on this list. Perhaps it's time that it should.
Changgo43 is a famous steak restaurant, done in a uniquely Korean way. Imagine a hot iron pan in the middle of your table, on to which premium quality beef fat is placed, and once transformed into pool of molten bovine deliciousness, rib-eye steak is added. The steak sizzles, and that most important of all food-based reactions starts – the Maillard reaction. A premium quality Korean beef-based Maillard reaction, might I add.
Once cooked medium rare, the result is a charred, smokey exterior and a beautiful, juicy interior complete with the mild sweetness which accompanies only the highest quality beef fat. And what makes this special is that they rip the beef, rather than cutting it. This produces uneven yet elegant cubes of beef whose texture feels unaltered from its original form – which might not sound much, but it really adds an element of je ne sais quoi to every bite.
After overzealously devouring a ton of premium meat, and a tad of rice and salad, I was wondering, how could one deglaze the pan and prevent the loss of so much precious, charred goodness? The answer, in true Korean fashion, is to make healthy, hearty stew in that very same pan– Doenjang jigae, or fermented bean paste stew with tofu and vegetables. Slightly sweet and packed full of a distinctive yet mild fermented flavour (read: umami), becoming even more comforting when steamed rice is mixed amongst it, this rendition of my favourite homely korean dish provided an excellent ending to a mighty meal.
Address: 서울시 영등포구 여의도동 11-11 한서빌딩 3층
Opening hours: 11:30~14:00 and 17:30~22:00
http://m.changgo43.co.kr/restaurant_gangbyeon.asp
For once, meat wasn't the stand-out act
As you might have noticed from reading just a few of my posts, I'm a meat and seafood man. On rare occasions, I get distracted by unique ingredients such as Ube and Lucuma, but these occurrences are few and far between.
Jeonju, the foodie capital of Korea, is home to one of those rare occasions. The now world-renowned bibimbap (mixed rice with vegetables and chilli paste), originated from this city, and as ever, I had to go find the best, most original one. I normally prefer hole-in-the-wall type of restaurants, but Gajok Hwegwan was rated pretty highly by a number of bloggers, so I settled for this.
Not long after ordering the yukhwe (raw beef-topped) bibimbap set (15,000 won), a rather ridiculous amount of food arrived within my field of vision. Now straight to business - a hot, large metal bowl, containing rice, raw beef and egg yolk, and a plethora of fresh vegetables and the oh-so-important chilli paste (gochujang) – this is what I came to Jeonju for. After mixing up all the ingredients with my usual level of OCD thoroughness, I took my first bite. Just like my Jajangmyeon experience at Sinseonggak, it reminded me that often these dishes are slightly twisted over in the West to suit our often sugar-seeking palates. Too often over in Europe and the US, the gochujang used for bibimbap is a bit sweet, but in this undoubtedly more authentic version, it is much less sweet, and packs more of a punch. This allowed the sweetness of some of the other vegetables to come through more markedly, and left my palate in feeling satisfied in a very balanced kind of way. The beef, for once, didn't live long in my memory – in fact, the more I ate, the more I appreciated the subtle interplay between the veggies, the rice and the chilli paste. Could I actually enjoy a vegetarian bibimbap?
The side dishes were overabundant but that is not a bad thing – particularly when one of them was a delightfully light egg souffle. At this point, as I was slightly sleep deprived after an overnight flight from Singapore, so I'm a little ashamed that I can't remember more about the side dishes, but I do remember the yellow mung bean jelly (right middle of the pic), the caramel-esque potato (bottom left) being not only tasty but providing the perfect counterbalance to the capsaicin-laced bibimbap.
South Korea, Jeollabuk-do, Jeonju-si, Wansan-gu, Jungangdong 3(sam)-ga, 80
Open Daily 11:30 – 21:00
Ice cold bovine refreshment
So you've probably established that the Koreans do meat pretty well. Especially beef. And they also do pretty good noodles too. So beef + noodles equalling something good might seem like a logically excellent combination. But did adding an ice cold bovine broth to the mix come to your mind? I would have guessed not.
Mulnaengmyeon, an originally North Korean dish from Pyeongyang, is exactly the refreshing, slurp-worthy bowl of beef-based deliciousness that you never knew you needed in your life. Actually, you probably need it even more if you're reading this in the midst of summer or some sweaty tropical urbanopolis in SE Asia. If you like a pure, unadulterated beef broth, with chewy buckwheat noodles, Asian pear, radish and cucumber, and of course cooked beef slices then mulnaengmyeon is for you.
At first, the cold beefyness is a little strong, but after a while, you learn how to appreciate the subtle interplays between the ingredients; the sweetness of the pear, the bitterness of the radish, and for some heat, add a little mustard.
If it's your first time trying this dish in Seoul, try it at Woo Lae Oak, a name synonymous with this bowl of noodles whose status ought to be elevated in the noodle world.
Woolaeoak
62-29 Changgyeonggung-ro, Jung-gu, 서울특별시 South Korea
Tues – Sun: 11.30am ; Closed Mondays
http://english.visitkorea.or.kr/enu/ATR/SI_EN_3_1_1_1.jsp?cid=349050
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