At the Seoul Airport

Korea's campaign to promote Korean food is bigger and better than ever this year. They have a website, a blog, ads in Times Square and the sort of airport decorations that my ideal model home would have. When I stepped off what I can only describe as a hellish flight from Phnom Penh to Seoul recently I was delighted to get onto a moving walkway that sped me past a quick forecast of what my next four days would be filled with.



Luckily I was true to myself and did exactly nothing (save for the odd trip to Korean teenage nightclubs) other than eat my way through Seoul. I got started immediately without even leaving the airport with a giant bowl of kimchi rice porridge.



I was pleased to see a number of dainty Korean airline employees finishing off these giant portions (I'd estimate each bowl to have at least six cups of rice in it) at 6am. Watching other people gorge themselves--especially those who are genetically slender--is always something that cheers me up. Luckily there's no shortage of that sort of thing in Cambodia, but there's definitely a shortage of Korean breakfasts. More on this later.

Eating North Korean in Cambodia

Anyone who has had to stomach my presence for more than a few hours doubtlessly knows about my interest in the politics of the Korean peninsula and North Korean specifically. I've ruled out going to the mass games (check the video) for political reasons but have been happy to discover that I can explore North Korea in Phnom Penh.

Due to Cambodia's habit of embracing the most corrupt world leaders, they have a long and close relationship with North Korea. We've got an embassy here,there are diplomatic missions, they sell North Korean kimchi at the grocery store and perhaps most importantly, I've got a window into North Korean cuisine.

I had long speculated that North Korean food was the more pure version of Korean food--what Korean cuisine was before it was tainted by imperialism, capitalism and mayonnaise.


The menu at Pyongyang Restaurant

I had the opportunity to find out when I visited Pyongyang Restaurant in Phnom Penh recently. The restaurant is allegedly run by the North Korean government as a place to launder money and funnel cash to the DPRK. The waitresses are all North Korean citizens as well. They're good-looking, play traditional Korean instruments and are dedicated to the cause.



Unfortunately there are no photos allowed in the place, so I didn't get any pictures of the food or floor show, but here's what I learned. North Korean food is not as spicy as south Korean food and there's much more focus on noodle dishes. There were a few banchan, but far less than any self-respecting South Korean joint would serve. The dishes were not nearly as complex or interesting as the Korean food I am used to. I'd use the word "rustic" to describe it. Everything was cut roughly and the bulgogi which is usually cut very thin was thick and tough. It was sort of like what your (Korean) grandma would make once she stopped giving a damn.

However, the floor show of six North Korean women singing, dancing and playing traditional instruments as well as the excellent decor highlighted by the bright fluorescent lighting made the experience of contributing ten bucks to the axis of evil well worth it.

Pyongyang Restaurant
400 Monivong Blvd(between Mao Tse Tung and Street 392)
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Korean food in Peru

It's no secret that I eat Korean food when I'm stressed out. And it's no secret that learning new things stresses me out. So when I had my Spanish class--4 hours in a row one on one with a teacher that didn't speak much English--I finished the session near tears and the only thing I could think of to quell my discomfort was a giant Korean dinner.



As usual, there are always some sort odd substitutions or additions based on what's available. This time there were red onions in the bimbimbap, which was served with a plate of shredded lettuce. Regardless of the relative poverty level of the country I'm in, a Korean lunch always costs two to three times as much as local fare, but due to its calming effect on me, it's always worth it. And this one was definitely on the better end of the scale for Korean food in random locals.

Sa Rang Che, Calle Procuradores 341, Cusco, Peru

The Kimchi Field Museum in Seoul

The museum suggests that you can take a picture here,
in case you don't already have any photos from your trip to Korea of traditional Korean women feeding you kimchi.

On my last day in Korea I hustled over to the Kimchi Field Museum, the thought of which I had been salivating over for days.


It's a pretty big place, all things considered, and they even have a library where you can study books and movies about kimchi and other traditional Korean foods.


Koreans love red pepper, but also garlic, leeks, green onion and anything else that is guaranteed to make their breath stink and their gums tingle.


The Kimchi Field Museum is located, as it appears food museums generally are in Asia, inside a mall. The largest underground mall in Asia, in fact, COEX.


I am not sure if I understood the point of this, it was this giant thing on the wall showing very small pictures of different types of kimchi. I'm sure someone was like, "Damn, everything in this museum is so old-fashioned. We need something high-tech, something futuristic! Let's make a big white kimchi hole!"


"You think that's high-tech? Check this out. This is science."


The museum brought together two of my great loves: kimchi and plastic food.




This was a display on how healthy kimchi is. They were trying to make the point that it's great for losing weight, but I thought this image also accurately acknowledged kimchi's gas-creating properties. She can't keep her skirt down!


Worldwide pickled vegetables


Kimchi tasting. I never like any of the ones made of greens as much as the cabbage, radish and cucumber ones. Making it green is just a step too healthy for me.





Although I'm a huge fan of kimchi, I wouldn't normally spend an entire afternoon dedicated entirely to fermented cabbage. However, the Kimchi Museum was really interesting and I'd highly recommend it for anyone buzzing around Seoul. In terms of actual information, it was definitely the best food museum I've been to, and they get extra points for providing information on everything in English. They even suckered me into buying a DVD with 59 kimchi recipes on it. Considering that it only took one kimchi recipe to get me kicked out of my flat in London, I shudder to think of what I may be able to do with 59.

One more Korean BBQ

Korean BBQ in Korea

Now, I know this may sound stupid, but when I first sat down in a Korean restaurant in Korea I thought to myself: I can't believe I am eating Korean food in Korea!

So here it is folks, bulgogi in Korea. Yum.

How civilized!

One of my constant laments about Oakland when I lived there was the complete lack of Korean delivery despite the abundance of great Korean restaurants. Visiting Korea showed me that many of my favorite Korean restaurants in California are true to their Korean roots--the dishes taste very similar. A few ways they differ: Korean seafood pancakes (pajeon) are served as starters in the US. In Korea they aren't served at restaurants, they are bar or street food.



The other big difference? In Korea they love to deliver your dinner straight to your door, and they give you real plates. That's right. Your bibimbap comes in a stone pot and when you are done eating it you leave it on your doorstep and the delivery guy comes back and gets it. Pretty sweet deal when you consider the fact that it only cost $4.50 to begin with and the delivery guy isn't expecting a tip for either of his journeys to get it to you.

Cooking class at the Institute of Korean Royal Cuisine

While I was in Seoul I took a cooking class at the Institute of Korean Royal Cuisine.





This was a good cooking class--first there was a lecture and demonstration done in Korean buy a woman in Korean traditional dress, and a translator who was relaying it to us in English. Then, we broke up into groups of three and cooked the dishes she had just demonstrated.

We made:
Dehachim: cooked shrimp tossed with vegetables in pine nut sauce
Kaktugi: spicy radish Kimchi
Dodokui: grilled dodok root (dodok is a kind of bellflower)
Yangji Gomtang: clear beef brisket soup





The instructor was a tough cookie, and I got the sense that the translator was softening things up for us. When she came by our table she freaked out because we didn't have enough salt on our radishes. She really looked angry. The translator was trying to convey the depths of her horror to us--"She says...she says you did it wrong. She says it no taste good when you are done." They both shake their heads at us in dismay. The fact that adding salt was an easy solution did not seem to abate their disappointment in us.







My favorite part of the class was when we sat down to eat the lunch we had just made, and the girl who is living in Korea and was showing off about studying Korean was unable to use her chopsticks. Unfortunately I was unable to get a picture of that, but imagine a 3 year old with a claw hand trying to eat with two metal sticks while pontificating about Hangul grammar.

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.

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