Update

I know that many of you have been losing sleep over the lack of updates for the last few days. I just got to China and have seen the cold hard palm of oppression smacking right up against My Big Fat Face (apparently blogs aren't allowed in China).

It appears that my brother has restored my access to the free world as of today. As such, I'm still trying to finish up the Korea posts and will get to China in a few days. Long story short, I've been eating a lot of noodles.

Bulgogi hotdog

If you're sick of the LA Korean taco thing (how passé), how about a bulgogi dog? Finally, something to give the chili dog meat-on-meat action a run for its money! For you plebs out there, bulgogi is Korean marinated BBQ beef.

Korean Autumnal snacks

In Korea, they celebrate the the changing of the seasons primarily at the convenience store Family Mart with atumnal-themed snacks.

Here we have a pumpkin drink (pretty good) and a chestnut pastry (nothing to write home about). No idea what soborou means.

Gwangju's Namdo Traditional Foods Museum

Although in possession of a rather spiffy website and an enticing name, the Namdo Traditional Foods Museum was, unlike the Korean food that it showcases, pretty bland. This is probably because it was all in Korean, but there was only one real room of exhibits and they didn't bother turning on the lights in some places. The museum appears to be mainly for events, but I wasn't able to figure it out. Stick to the food in Gwangju if you're short on time.

Eat me

When I read that story a few years back about the guy who voluntarily allowed himself to be slaughtered and eaten, I thought who would do that? Apparently the animals of Korea, that's who. These little guys are begging you to get them into you.








Their little thumbs get tired from propositioning you!









They can't wait to serve themselves up to you!

Oritang (duck stew), or, Mommy, why do they hate me?

There was only one thing on the menu at Young Me in Gwangju: oritang, or duck stew, and it comes served with a side dish of xenophobia.

The other day I headed over to Gwangju for the weekend because I was told that despite having no attractions to speak of, the food is the best in Korea. So I booked myself into a business hotel with heated floors and headed down to Duck Soup Street, aka Yudong Alley.


Duck Soup Street, Gwangju

I casually strolled into the foyer of the restaurant, and by casually I mean sweating and shifty-eyed. I never know what to do in these situations, especially when I'm outside of the major cities that are used to dealing with hayan pang (white bread) like myself and am in the sort of town where people stare at me when I'm parading down the street. Anyway, suffice to say that the restaurant I had chosen to grace with my mute, awkward presence, rejected my overtures and asked me to leave before I had even sat down.

They love sitting on the floor in Korea, probably because the floors are all heated!

What they didn't know is that to me, rejection is the sweet tonic that stokes my attraction into fiery determination. They would serve me lunch and they would love me. So I didn't leave.

This guy is their mascot and is clearly foreign so I thought I had an in at Young Me.

I stood there and waited while 4 or 5 other groups--who arrived after me--were seated, and once there was no other Korean in town interested in having lunch, they finally decided to give your hero a table.



And despite the wait and the intense feelings of alienation, once I was presented with a steaming cauldron of oritang, I knew it was all worth it. The staff, who by this point were convinced that I was retarded, treated me gently. They brought me a fork, despite the fact that the rest of the patrons seemed to be using their hands and mouths far more than their chopsticks (and we all know I can pick a splinter and 30 paces with chopsticks).



Seeing my inability to feed myself, the women working would come over to my table every thirty seconds or so and push more greens into my pot which was merrily bubbling away, and which I clearly wasn't eating fast enough. Within approximately 5 minutes, they had stuffed a few baskets of greens (mustard, maybe?) into my pot and instructed me to eat it quickly, dipping the food in a special unidentified hot sauce. And by "instructed me," I mean they spoke to me loudly in Korean and in one hand waved a pair of scissors at me while the other hand was occupied with more greens.



The soup was so creamy and rich that it could have had cream in it, apparently that's because of the perilla seeds they add to thicken it up. This was the first day that I wasn't able to eat my ritual 4pm box of Pocky--that's how much of this stuff I ate. It was delicious, beyond delicious.

By the end of the meal, my paper tablecloth was destroyed. After eyeing up the tables around me, I realized that if anything, I had been too delicate, too reserved. This is a meal to throw bones around to, grease dripping off your chin. Perhaps because we appreciate those things that we have to work for all the more, oritang, was easily my favorite meal in Korea.

I'm gagging for a recipe so if anyone knows anything more about this dish, please share.


Young Me, Yudong Alley (Duck Soup Street), Gwangju, Korea

Sundubu, my heart beats for you

My love of Korean food turned into an obsession when I was introduced to sundubu, or spicy tofu stew. I used to eat this at least once a week when I lived in Oakland, and I was so addicted that when I moved to Dublin I started going into terrible, twitchy withdrawals. Apparently Ireland isn't the place to go for Korean food. My sainted father took pity on me and went to my favorite Korean restaurant back in California and begged their recipe off of them.

Sundubu was the dish that inspired me to start cooking Korean food and I've gotten many shocked reactions when I tell Korean people it's my favorite food. Just yesterday I told a girl in Gwangju that I love sundubu and she started laughing and hiding her face with her hands. I don't know why--maybe it's made from Christian babies or is synonymous with sexual virility--but whatever the story is, I love it. I've even learned the Korean alphabet, Hangul, so I can more easily figure out what to put in my face. They don't have pictures on the menus round these parts but 순두부 is sundubu to me.


This one is from a restaurant called Bab near Hongik University in Seoul.


This one is from an amazing tofu house also in Hongdae.

Ramen museum photobooth pictures

Just in case you thought I was lying, there actually is a photobooth at the Yokohama Ramen Museum and I actually did pay to use it.



The first one says "ramen" up top and I'm not sure what it says on the bottom. The other one has a street name on the top and down the side it says "Just one more bowl." Sounds about right. If any of you multilinguists out there have better translations, please enlighten me.

Busan's Jalgalchi Fish Market

The Jalgalchi fish market in Busan is filled with a lot of tough customers. The place is dominated by ajumas (married women) with an iron fist. These aren't the sort of ladies that you want to mess with, and they didn't seem particularly pleased to have my big white face browsing their squirming wares. But despite the two inches of fish water I had on the hems of my pants by the end of the day, it was well worth a visit.


Check out this octopus!




She was actually wrestling with this octopus. It was like a horror movie.


Tons of stuff were live and squirming, including the eels that had already been skinned.

Dunkin' Donuts presents...the kimchi donut

Of course the minute I heard about Dunkin' Donuts' special kimchi donut, I knew that I had to get one into my bloodstream as quickly as possible. Not for myself, dear reader, but for you.

That's why I do these things. I don't go into Dunkin' Donuts and order a kimchi croquette (as they are called due to their lack of hole) for my own pleasure. No, I sacrifice myself on the alter of faddish fast foods just to keep you entertained.



The kimchi croquette is part of Dunkin' Donuts' donuts of the world thing. They've got a yogurt-filled one for Greece and a lentil one for India and blah blah blah. Frankly, none of them seemed particularly appealing, but probably wouldn't be too inedible when washed down with a coffee "Coolatta" or two.

So how was it? Remarkably decent. It was 70% savory to 30% sweet and had a pork (I think) and kimchi filling. Not actually a donut, and not great compared to the abundance of street food around, but a lot better than the abomination than I had imagined (and secretly wished for).

Korean street food

The temperature was below zero in Korea this week, thus making it the perfect weather for cowering inside hostels and when venturing out, street food. I love anything cooked off of a Sterno grill on the side of the road at any time of the year, but when it's cold out I appreciate it that much more.



I was exploring Dongdaemun Market in Seoul after realizing that perhaps my tiny suitcase filled with summer dresses had been more optimistic than realistic, and was desperately searching for a hat and gloves (I'd already picked up a scarf in Japan). But who can shop when confronted with dozens of street food stands colored like carnivals and with their own portable heaters?

One of my great fears in life is to be caught out cold or hungry unawares. This is why I carry a big purse and generally have an extra sweater in it, and why I eat every two hours. You never know when you'll get stuck somewhere with no food, so you should eat when you can. Street food appeals to me for its immediacy. You don't have to worry where your next meal will come from, you can just eat something on a stick right now.



The places in Dongdaemun Market aren't itty-bitty street food stands that only sell a few things like fish cakes on sticks or ddukbokki (spicy chewy rice cakes). These are full-on minature restaurants that have relatively extensive menus, but are located inside a tent.



The proprietress tried to sell us octopus or even a few giant clams by poking them with a chopstick, but we settled for eel, primarily because it was the most disgusting looking thing she had. She told us repeatedly it was a snake.



I was delighted when we were served on real plates, but inside plastic bags or wrapped in tinfoil.

To be honest, I cannot pretend that I liked this eel. It was too chewy and had a bit of a fecal taste to it, like shrimp that hadn't been deveined. After gorging myself on unagi in Japan I'm spoiled. But who knows, maybe it was actually a snake.



Of course as determined I was to like everything I tried in Korea--which hasn't been too hard so far--I soldiered on and managed to eat a fair amount of snake/eel, a couple of the ddukbokki, and a giant, greasy pajeon (seafood pancake). Afterwards we were intoxicated with the huge quantity of grease we had just consumed. But somehow it makes me feel less guilty when this sort of thing happens outdoors.

Yatai: the street food of Fukuoka

If I were to list my favorite things, street food and ramen would come pretty high on the list, even ahead of this recent season of Mad Men. So it was to my great delight that I found out that Fukuoka--a city with few charms save its culinary ones--is the epicenter of the Japanese street food scene.

Once dusk begins to descend on the streets of Fukuoka small stalls spring up along pedestrian walkways, replete with seating, sake and the occasional heater. Most specialize in one or two things, tonkotsu ramen is a standby, as is yakitori and other grilled meats on sticks and seafood. There's even a yatai  in Fukuoka serves French food.






Despite a typhoon strong enough to get my ferry to Korea cancelled and grounding me in Fukuoka, the yatai  were alive and kicking, although the customers were few and far between on such a rainy night. This meant my presence, which is usually confusing to the smaller restaurateurs in Japan, was actually appreciated for once.



The fellow above tried to communicate with me by speaking Japanese very slowly. This didn't help. Even when he tried raising the volume, I was still unable to understand him and we had to talk via my usual combination of thumbs ups, OK symbols and ecstatic ramen appreciation.



When he saw that I was about to take a picture of my ramen, he shook his head. I put down my camera, terrified that I had just committed yet another Japanese faux pas that I was unaware of (for example, did you know that it's rude/gross to put on chapstick in public?!). It turned out that like a teenage girl primping for the camera, he just wanted to add more garnishes to the ramen before it was immortalized on my blog. Although not the most gourmet bowl of ramen I'd had in Japan, I'm sure it would be if it were 2am and I was stumbling home from some derelict karaoke joint with my colleagues. It was delicious, anyway.

The storm was so bad that the yatai sprung a leak, and was dripping rain water into the ramen stock. The guys working nearly had an aneurysm trying to simultaneously patch the hole and prevent me from seeing the ramen being polluted. Luckily these sort of things don't bother me and I ordered a bowl anyway, much to the relief of the proprietor and his cronies.


Sort sort of bacon ham wrapped around okra and grilled, with a large side of mayo.


Note the large collection of items wrapped in bacon: tomatoes, enoki mushrooms, okra, quail eggs


In Japan, people have a hard time believing I actually want pictures of my food and wouldn't prefer a picture of myself with said food. They aren't wrong, actually. This is mentaiko, or pollack roe doused in hot pepper. They also serve this on spaghetti.

The next night, already an old hand at the yatai game, I went on to a more adventurous part of town. Here the yatai were crammed with boozy businessmen, chain-smoking and chugging soju. After ten minutes of people speaking Japanese to me unsuccessfully, and no less than three separate people complimenting my chopsticks skills, a man in the Japanese military finally copped to knowing English and filled me in on what everyone had been saying about me. Apparently it wasn't all chopsticks kudos. He also let me know what I had been eating, which I had identified as "fish"  but which he informed me was a giant grilled sardine, roe still intact.

I can't pretend that Fukuoka has anything going for it in the looks department, but with so many pregnant fish around I'm not complaining.