Peter Green

I'd fight you for those crabs ← Choose your weapons.

I'd intended to post the quinces I did up, the ones that Doddie got for me from Icheon, but then it did seem I was getting a bit too far off topic. Sooooooooooo....... I've put the post in the WGF Thread. I was going to put it in Dessert, but you can read about how that worked. Next: Soju Culture

Okay, I agonized over this, about where to put the post, but I decided that I’d be too far off topic posting this in my Korea thread. I was going to put this in Dessert! but after spending several minutes, during which time I found Dinner, Lunch, and Breakfast, I gave up, and decided to put it in here as a continuation. So sue me. Back in Post 53 Paul Wilson had done quinces, talking about how you have to poach them for ages, and then suddenly they’ll go like a sponge, and taste divine. I was intrigued by this, and had to give it a try. And, in post 54 of the thread, Doddie had offered to get me some quinces! So, in the recent trip to Korea Doddie gifted me with a box of fresh quinces from Icheon! I'm a firm believer in serendipity. So, the weekend after we returned from Seoul, as that fine young Antipodean (albeit an Englishman originally) Paul had instructed, I prepared the poach, peeled the quinces, and pulsated the mousse (yeah, that’s a stretch). The quinces I poached for four hours, and then, yes, they did go all spongy. It was fun to observe, as those rock hard bodies went to a softness you’d not have expected (Yoonhi’s making rude comments about my physique, again). I then pulled the quinces off, let them cool, strained out the liquid, and set them aside in the fridge for the night. I’d also prepared the chocolate chestnut mousse, and put that in the fridge in a plastic tub, as instructed. This was to give it more of an ice cream texture. The next day it was a simple matter of finding some victims, and then putting the quinces, the sauce, and the mousse together for a quick dessert. Thank you, Doddie! (And Billy!)

Postscripts I So, what did we bring back from this trip? Well, as I said, it wasn’t a huge shopping splurge this time around. We concentrated on things that we figured we’d need, and things that just seemed fun. If you remember the blog I did a month or so ago, you’ll remember the pantry shots. After that, I promised Yoonhi I wouldn’t be adding more stuff. I lied. Here’re those crabs I was talking about a little while ago. Rather than fresh and raw, these ones have been sweetly spiced, and then crisp fried before being packaged as bar snacks. We dragged one bag out the other week to a get together. I ate them, but I didn’t see too many other takers. I’d found a packaged duck at the food expo that looked too good not to buy. I’ll try to get around to doing something with that after American Thanksgiving. And, of course, we brought back ginseng. Lots of ginseng. I wonder if Yoonhi’s hinting at something? We’ve got our bori cha (barley tea) and another tea, whose name we’ve forgotten. There are my shredded chilis that I picked up in Icheon (“it’s for the looks”), and there’s my new flyswatter, with a pull-out rechargeable battery. Plus, I have a wide selection of rice scoops and spatulae to work with now. And I had pears. For a brief, glorious couple of days I had fresh pears. They barely lasted to the weekend. At least I had a bit of one of them. We brought back the packages of crab, like you saw up front, and the little fishes (in the blue labled box in the front), and some dried octopus heads just to the right of that. In Lan Tai we also found packages of roasted chestnuts, so we bought some of these to play with (and as snacks). And, of course, we brought more miyok (seaweed) for soups and stocks. But, front left, I have a box of beautiful quinces that Doddie sent to Jason’s apartment. I’ll get to that next. Next: quinced

Milg, The soup was wet. It was good. There, I've got Hemingway out of my system. I'll raise the question later when I get in the piece here on soju, but I've gotta ask it....... Is Korea the only place that just out and out refers to hangover food in their advertising? I mean, the Thai talk about the sort of things you should eat to get over the ravages of excess, and every country has their remedies, but Korea is the only place I've ever been too where restaurants advertise themselves as "hangover food specialists", or the equivalent thereof. I don't think even the Irish do this. Cheers, peter

Thanks, Bruce! Yes, you can make bokkumbap at home. We do. And it's never as good as this. I'm thinking I need to get one of those stones for cooking. They crisp the bottom layer just right, whereas the frying pan method we take always seems too wet. I wonder if I could use my tagine? And I would add my voice to yours. What the world needs now is an up to date Korean cooking guide! The older books are good, but they're way to out of date. What I saw happening in Korea today is exciting, it's different, and it's pretty much undocumented in the West. And, no, I'm not going to give up my day job. I've got bills to pay. Hopefully, in a matter of three or more posts, I shall put this baby to bed. Then what'll I do?

October 23 – The Morning Calm Dawn. There’s something wrong about seeing the sun rise. Especially when you’ve been on a wicked dongdongju and Armagnac binge the night before. (At times I’m saddened never to have had the opportunity to travel with Hunter S. Thompson). I never have problems with waking up (well, outside of an extremely messy evening in Glasgow with my Welsh friend, but that’s another story), I snap to somewhere just before dawn, and have to wait for the gathering light to dispel the cobwebs of night. Everyone else just lies there snoring. I went out to the patio, shuffled into some flip flops, walked over to the edge and looked out on the scene 20 floors below. The city was moving. Seoul is the town that never sleeps. I could see bodies stumbling out of some of the alleyways down in the distance, and cars veering about on the road (although the Koreans have become much more responsible in their drinking – more later on that). It was sad to be leaving. It felt that there were things left undone, meals uneaten. I’d not had any of the small live octopus yet (although I’d done them in ’98), and I yearned for that puckering, cloying feel in my mouth. I’d barely done justice to ddeokboggi. And there’d been no ojingobokkum. What price a night in Garak market, drinking with new friends and observing the etiquette of the soju bottle? And then, in the midst of these ruminations, the cell phone alarm went off. So much for the morning calm. We packed out and drove through the early morning to Incheon, the terminal for Seoul. Coming in the other direction we could already see the traffic backing up on the expressway, the bridges filling up and coming to a halt. It was not even 7, and traffic was grinding to a halt, in a city where work begins at 9 or 10 for most people. The airport welcomed us with a cold embrace. All glass and steel, it took us in and processed our papers with cold efficiency. We returned our phones. An inexpensive insurance policy well worth the cost for the few times we needed them. And after concluding that business, we had to have breakfast. In general, I despise airport dining. Yes, there are exceptions. I don’t mind Souvannabhoum (Bangkok), and some of the Chinese airports had things to recommend, but in general I find airport dining expensive for what it is, and the service of extreme questionability. Incheon wasn’t looking very good. We went upstairs to the restaurants to take a last meal with Jason. He and Serena chose to dine at the buffet (the cost for each of them close to the price of our meal the night before), while I grumbled over the price of a cup of coffee and the exorbitant charges for the most mundane of meals. And then I found what I was looking for on the back page of the menu….. March snail in broth to chase hangover – diseulgi hejangguk. (My hangovers mover very slow, so I suppose having snails chasing them is a fair match) Ever since Milgwimper mentioned them, way back in post #3, I’d been thinking about them, and cursing the Fate that kept them just out of reach. And here, delivered unto my very lap, were they. Oboy! While Jason and Serena were happily tucking in to the exotic (remember where you are, after all) Western items in the buffet, I sat on the edge of my seat waiting for this final send off. It was a pretty enough set, with six pieces of panchan and rice. There were tobikos in the broth, other mushrooms, and thinly sliced mu, along with the ever-present green onion. The diseulgi are little, tiny chewy little bits, reminding me of the little snails we’d buy in Vancouver at T&T and eat on the balcony looking out over English Bay. I’m hungry again. Satisfied that I’d touched upon the last of my “must eat” items, we said our goodbyes to Jason, and passed through immigration to the other side. Lessons for leaving Korea. If you’re going to buy kim chi to take with you (which may or may not be a controlled substance) don’t do it at the airport. We had some money to burn, and more important, we had space in our hand carry. But when I looked at the food stuff stores, I gasped. $21 for a small tub of kim chi? Give me a break. So, we bought nada. On the bright side, our bags weren’t heavy. Lan Tai (Hong Kong) was another matter. We came across the dried snack food store and loaded up on stuff. And more books. Put I’ll cover that in the loot posting, next. Next: Loot

I'm fond of Miele as well, I'll admit. They're not cheap, but they don't seem to encounter the sort of problems I've suffered through with other makes. (edited to add) following up on Margo, I'd vote for a well-trained son. It's just a long, painful investment to make, and then someone else will reap the long term benefits

And the clock is ticking........I'm waiting for this.

October 22 – The Master of Bokkum (it’s all in the mix) Once home, we took up the classic division of labour that occurs at the end of all our vacations. Yoonhi started packing our suitcases for the dawn flight the next morning, and I lounged. Hey, someone’s gotta do it! Actually, I had the most difficult of tasks. I had to decide where we would take our last proper meal. It wasn’t that hard a choice. We went back to the place we did on the first night. There were three solid reasons for this: First, it was good. Second, you’re always concerned if the quality of that first meal in a foreign land is influenced by the fact that you’ve been form-fitted like a blob of jello into a space designed for pygmies for more than a day. Third, it was a place that Jason and Serena were both content with, and this was also about family, not just my stomach (you won’t often hear me say things like that). Fourth, it was good. Okay, so once I’d taken care of the heavy lifting, and Yoonhi was confident that we were marginally legal in terms of our weight distribution (we hadn’t really bought much except for books, but books’ll put on the weight), we tramped down the hill past the Nambu Terminal intersection and wormed our way back into the restaurant zone. First, I must admit to a mistake. I’d been referring to this as sam gyep sal (3 layer pork, describing the fat/meat/fat distribution), but in reality it’s o gyep sal here – 5 layers. I’ve tried asking the difference, and the best answers I’ve had are: “Sam is three and O is five.” “It’s the layering of fat, meat, fat.” “It’s the layering of skin, fat, and meat.” “It’s the fat, the meat, and the stuff that’s kinda fat, kinda meat.” “O gyep sal is closer to the outside, so you can sometimes get the hairs, too.” I was particularly enchanted by the self-flossing element of the o gyep sal description. Having spent two weeks in-country, I appreciated now what Jason had said about the service. We’d had a lot of good service, but it was a little bit more here. Now, that may just be the “regular” factor, as Jason is one of the customers they see quite often, but things seemed to run a bit better, with more attention to the customers. Out came the hot stone slab, the metal bands binding it glaring evilly at us as it lay patiently on the table top. Then the kim chi took up a solid base position, ready to catch anything good that came its way, slowly dripping red juices into the drain tray. The kim chi acted as a brace to the tofu, ddeok, and mushrooms that deposited upslope. And then, of course, comes the meat. Glorious meat. Beautiful plays of red and white, the fat beginning to glisten as the heat worked through. The fixings are now a comfortable accessory. Fresh greens for wrapping the meat reminded me of my in-laws garden in North Vancouver during the summer. I’d heard of Cheju Do pigs before. Supposedly they’re especially raised on excrement to give them their particular flavour. When I talk to my Korean friends, this is the pig they want. Given a short bit of time and the aid of the ubiquitous scissors, we had a perfectly edible grill of food in almost no time. Pictures don’t do this justice. You have to imagine that smell of pork fat, or garlic roasting, and the tofu and mushrooms playing into the symphony. This was all so good we had to order another round of pork. We never did quite figure out what some of the greens were. We thought maybe parsley, or some variant thereof. They had that smell of fresh parsley, but the size and the shape weren’t right. Before too long, the second order of pork was gone. We figured it was time to move on to other things. Jason called over the manager, a young man in that indiscriminate age after 30, where everyone looks way younger than me, even if they’re pushing 50 or 60. Jason asked him if he wouldn’t mind preparing the bokkumbap for us. Normally, the prep is done by the ajimas who bustle about the place, laughing and gossiping. He used to do it all the time, but he’s busier and busier now running the place during his hours (it is a 24 hour joint, which is a mark of success in this town). Seeing as Jason’s a regular, he readily agreed. Heck, he was so pleasant, he probably would agree if this had been our first time here. It seemed to be in his nature. He set to the task with a certain glee that only comes when you’re playing with scissors. He cut apart the kimchi and bits of meat still left. Then he gave a good seeing to the leftover greens (I shouldn’t really say “leftover”. We’d gone through more than 5 refills). Then he got into some seious spring onion action, spiraling them with the back of the scissor blades. All of which had just been getting the mix ready for the rice. Tonight we were doing three orders of rice. Bear in mind that when we’d first arrived in Korea, we’d only managed two, and we were stuffed at that point. Now he switched implements, giving up the scissors for a chugeok (rice scoop). I have not seen wooden rice scoops used for table side food prep before, I must admit. These were used to spoon on more kim chi, putting a good toupee of red atop the bald white pates. And then the scissors came back and he cut up some gim (nori) to top the mass off. But back came the chugeok, this time in stereo, the two of them working over the mass of mix, rice, nori, and kim chi. This was like being back on the Nanta set. He had a great rhythm with the scoops as he moved through the food, mixing everything together. An egg yolk was deposited with proper grace in the middle, giving that happy, sunny look to the meal. And then he brought it all together in a grand bokkuming crescendo. As he mixed, he was careful to scrape up the parts that were just on the edge of crisping on the bottom, in contact with the stone. Some of it will crisp, but not just yet. This is what bokkuming is meant to be. He then turned his skills to patting, rather than mixing, working the now almost uniform mass into a smooth lump on the stone. and then, as the coup de grace, he finished with more cut gim on top to dress it up. Spoons out and reaching for the communal feast, we realized we’d forgotten something. But there was still time. We ordered a bamboo soju. This turns out not really to be made of bamboo. It tasted more like one of the fruit sojus we’d had before, maybe more like the apple juice and soju mix we’d had a week earlier at Café Ahn (AFS). The dispenser was cool, and we would’ve felt bad if we’d not had it, but overall regular soju is better. There was lots of Chilseng Cider about. They always brought two bottles to our table as “service” and we ended up sending them back. As I’d mentioned earlier, it wasn’t what I though of when I thought of cider. I think of Strongbow and staring at the bottom of a bar room table from the floor and wondering when I got there (I know “how”. It’s the “when” I lose track of). I’m trying to remember now what chigae we had. I asked Yoonhi, she looked at the photo and said “red”. Not the greatest help. I was sort of overwhelmed by the bokkum bap, and my notes were falling apart. I’ve checked back with Jason, though, and he confidently asserts that it’s ddenjang chigae. Normally, this’d be brown, but it’s just a lot more spiced up here. I’m not going to argue. The bokkum bap was down to the last bits, the crispy shards of rice that you scrape off of the stone with your spoon. I can safely say that was the best bokkum bap I’ve ever had. Jason was right, this guy is a master. Bloated, with rice popping out of our ears, we waddled out of the shop, the last bottles of soju not-quite empty on the table. Serena stopped by the door for her complimentary cup of ice cream. They keep a cooler there for their customers, although I’d told Serena it was just for her. And then, tearfully, we bid adieu to this happy place. Man, that was good. I wonder when I can get back? I was too, too stuffed. All I could do was look wistfully at the happy throngs in the kop jang place we’d eaten at earlier in the trip. It was probably in the top 5 of the trip, and was in the running for last meal (except that Jason’s not big on kop jang). It’s a fond memory already, though. The salarymen out on the stools, the burners blasting, and cow innards strewn about, charring away while soju was put away in stunning quantities. Dr. Hyun’s Digestive Disease Clinic, just up the street, must be a Korean’s worst nightmare. Back home we debated the relative attractions of Armagnac vs mushroom dongdongju. Both are good, but the dongdongju was definitely a lot easier to drink. Yoonhi says she still prefers Armagnac. We agreed to disagree. We had a plane to catch. Next: The Last Breakfast

Maybe next time, Zen! Although a trip to Japan is Scud's #1 choice for Spring, Korea's a close second. More to come, still (and we haven't quite done everything.......yet)

Hey, I'm on the edge of my seat reading along . . . I'm just so freaked out by Korea and Korean food I don't have anything useful to add. On a less adventurous note, I have had P&C corn from Chilliwack. ← Thanks, Peter! By the way, any idea what percentage sugar there is in P&C corn? Just mentioning brings up a picture of bags of that corn and big pots of boiling water. I'm getting hungry again. Cheers, Peter

It's the combination with the canned tuna fish that really left me in admiration. I wonder if Shin Ramyun will come out with a budae chigae in a foil pouch soon?

October 22 – Winding Down This was our last day. And we were even awake at a decent time, ready to sally forth and make the most out of our last cultural opportunities. I figured another palace would be a good idea. And Yoonhi was fairly certain that the Rodin Gallery was close by. Two sites within close vicinity seemed like a sensible way to get things done. We surfaced from the subway (CD sales again – 8 CD set in the box) at City Hall, and my immediate reaction was “uh-oh”. We were at Deoksugung, not Changgyeonggung, which lay further to the NorthEast, balancing off Gyeongbokgung, the main palace we’d visited earlier. Still, a palace is a palace, and we were here. We could just as easily do this, what was once referred to as the “Western Palace” due to its position relative to the city. Deoksugung was closed. This was a setback. Setbacks call for muffins. So while I consulted my guidebook for a way to salvage this, Yoonhi took Srena into Dunkin Donuts for a baked good. Okay, if we couldn’t do Deoksugung, we could do the Seoul Museum of Art. It was within a couple of blocks, and we could admire the walls of the old palace as we walked in that direction. Something was in the air, as there were a number of booths being set up, and colourful cloth lanterns littering the street in strategic locations, indicating that the trees were going to be festooned to the max pretty soon. I kept on waiting for someone to pop out of the woodwork and advise us that we should be here a week later. At least my navigation was right. The Museum was there on our right, barely an eight minute walk from where we’d started. It was closed, too. I took the family on a quick cultural tour of the nearby supermarket, and started considering my options. Yoonhi was starting to get that “lean and hungry look” in her eyes (if not elsewhere – ouch!!!), and it was beginning to look like food was going to be a necessity. Could things get worse? Let me tell you how things could get worse. The area we were in, right by city hall and the government offices, was devoid of food places. I didn’t think that was possible in Seoul. We had to walk for five minutes, up and away into the back streets, beyond the car parks before I could find something that might work. In this, we lucked out. I found the Snack Plaza (‘Sunaek Puraja”) – at least, I think that’s what it said. Don’t get me wrong. This was not a great place. It was a typical fast food place, specializing in kim bap – with a station and an ajima up near the window, noodles, and chigae. Yoonhi ordered soon dubu (soft tofu) to get her over her difficulties, and Serena, still hopped up on a chocolate muffin fix, didn’t need anything. But me? I’m a guy. We got needs. There was one dish in particular that I hadn’t had yet. One dish that Jason had mentioned that just called out to my gourmand’s soul. Cheese and tuna ramyun – “chamchi chisu ramyun”. I had to order it as a special, but I wasn’t exactly going out on a limb here. They did tuna ramyun and they did cheese ramyun, so this didn’t require any Jack Nicholson routines or anything like that. It was as good as Jason had said. The processed cheese had broken down into a thick backdrop of fat in the broth, and the canned tuna chimed in with the thick feeling it has when you masticate it well. I wonder what would happen if I tried this at home with some Roquefort? With food in our bellies, things were a little more stable. We figured we might as well try the Rodin Gallery while we were here. It was only a block away. In my heart, I knew what the answer would be. It was closed today, as they were preparing the museum for a special concert that evening. (This was a pity, as they do have one of the best collections of Rodin in Asia, and I’ve always wanted to see “The Gates of Hell”). At this point, it was time to get in a taxi and go somewhere else. Koreans believe heavily in geomancy, and it was becoming apparent to me that my karma and this neighborhood weren’t going to work things out in my time frame. I had the cab take us over to the palace I’d originally intended to visit; ChangGyeongGung – the Summer Palace of the Korean emperors. Whereas Gyeongbokgung had a fairly good crowd of siteseers wandering through, this palace was close to empty. I was a little taken aback by the lack of people. The extensive entry (which faces East, contrary to most palaces) held we three, two old people, and one Japanese tourist who was trying to make the most of the open views to get some good shots. Me too, as I’d brought the video today. It’s a pretty palace, in many ways prettier than Gyeonbokgung, as it wasn’t as badly ravaged by the Japanese, not being as symbolic to the Koreans as the main palace was, and what damage the Japanese had inflicted was restored earlier, back in the 80’s, giving the trees and greenery time to fill in the restoration work. We came across a couple of school tours, and a number of families with very good English who must’ve been back for a visit, but overall it had a very quiet aspect. The “Hidden Garden” up behind the palace is considered to be one of the things to be seen, much more of a public park in nature. And the colours were beginning to change. I bet the place would look quite stunning in a week. There were a few interesting cultural items buried around the place (Koreans really like to bury things) but, unlike other sites, they didn’t have an audio guide here, something they were quite embarrassed about when Yoonhi had inquired at the ticket office. It’s a pity, as we could work to some extent from the signs, but the guides had proven to be a good way to keep Serena engaged. One thing that did strike us, though, was the large number of seniors in the park. Here they’re allowed free entrance, so the benches around the lake and garderns were full of the elderly quietly taking in the day. ChanggyeongGung connects to the Jongmyo complex, which houses the Confucian ancestral shrines of the royals. When the rest of the city clears out for Chuseok in early October, this is the place where you’ll still find a crowd, with the official rites being carried out in the courtyard of the main shrine here (the longest building in the world when it was first built in 1394). The weather was turning inclement (probably because I’d brought out my camera for the day), and so we made our way to the front of the Jongmyo complex. Whereas we’d only seen a few tour groups inside, the area just in front of the entrance was hopping. At first I was wondering what was going on. There must’ve been a few hundred old guys, all clustered about in groups. But when I wandered over to take a look, I hear that sound. The clicking of clam shells on wood. This was great. There must’ve been over a hundred separate games of paduk on the go, black and white stones being snapped down onto a variety of boards. Okay, okay, some were playing changi (Korean chess), too. Yoonhi and Serena finally dragged me out of the mob, and we made our way down to the subway (which had bowls of white tickets which the seniors were using for free access to the metro). We were tired by this point, and there were suitcases to be packed. It was getting close to the end. Next: The Last Supper

Sheena and Milg, Continuing the sea acorn squirt topic (which, I know, has the Western world on the edge of its collective seat right now). Yoonhi's on the phone with Vancouver right now, and we think the Korean name for those things is mi deodeog. Does that ring a bell anywhere? Sister says this is something she had never seen in the old days. You put it in haemuljeogul (seafood hotput), and, yes, when you bite into them, they squirt. For cooking websites, she prefers Naver overall, which is the one you'd already mentioned. She says it's by far the best. An alternate is koreanyori.co.kr it's quite extensive. But this one requires that you set up a logonid (registered). And, when you're inside, some of the items require you to give a Korean Citizen ID (remember the fun we had trying to buy tickets?). Okay, more soon.

October 21 – Part 4 – icha We piled into Jason’s friends’ car, and hit the mean streets of Seoul. Heck, it was only 9 p.m.! We were looking for ddeokboggi. And the best place to do that is in Sindangdong – ddeokboggi street. Honest, they even had signs up on the way there directing us to Ddeokboggi Street - which was a good thing, as Jason’s friend doesn’t have a GPS either. “Have you seen the instruction manuals for those things? And they’re all in Hangul! The time I spend figuring it out would wipe out any savings I’d had over not being lost!” Having found the street, we got off to a bad start. We’d driven to the end of the strip, and pulled into a vacant parking spot. Immediately, the ajima from the place next door tells us we can’t park there, as it’s only for her customers. We probably would’ve ended up going into her place if she hadn’t done this, but as was we moved the car and then wandered. The “street” is about two blocks or so of pretty brightly lit places, all selling either ddeokboggi, or the fixings for ddeokboggi (and more on that in a sec). DcDonaldu seemed a little cheeky, as far as signage goes. Given the overwhelming choice of places (and the fact that we’d eat beondaeggi before we’d go back to the woman who made us repark), we settled on the place that had a picture of a woman with good teeth. I like to be objective about my choices. She’s actually on the food maps for Seoul. Mabogrim Halmoni. The grand old dame of ddeokboggi, with three storefronts here, the oldest dating back to 1953 (which must’ve been pretty grim times). Like the chokbal joint, this place was packed. But we managed to squeeze into a table in the middle of everything, with me perched on my stool. (Nobody else in our groups ever seems crowded). Don’t expect a lot of choice here, at least in some things. You order however many skillets you’re going to need, and they’re all pretty much packed and ready to go with noodles, ddeok, and eggs. There were two types of noodles in each pan. Jjeolmyun, which is the pully elastic band type noodle (it has potato starch in it to give it the texture), and good old ramyun, a square brick of it straight from a Shin Ramyun foil pouch, as far as I can tell. While I admired the fixed menu items, Jason disappeared. He was off to get the extras. It’s an interesting concept, and one that promotes a certain symbiosis in the neighborhood. This place provides the seating, the heat, and the soju, and the subcontractors out there are free to find a niche to fill. Once Jason was back, and we’d finished a couple of bottles, we got down to the business of cooking. I’d like to be able to say that this was “all about the ddeok” but that just wouldn’t be the truth. I was taken down a bit by this. The idea here is that you get the basic starter, and then top it off with kim mari, deep fried vegetables, deep fried prawns, and anything else that wasn’t spry enough to escape the deep fat fryer. “But the tempura is all getting soggy in there”, exclaimed Yoonhi. “That’s the whole point,” said Jason. Serena, engrossed in her GameBoy, remained imperially oblivious to all of this. We were playing “spot the ddeok”, as it was pretty tough finding the rice cakes in amongst all of the “extras” that were in there. Okay, we’ve gotta start thinking about what we have here; ramyun noodles, jjeolmyun (chewy, rubbery noodles), ttwigim (deep fried/tempura) stuff, and rice cakes. We’re talking starch fest here. After a few minutes it was all breaking down. Now, I want you to go back through the three other posts of food I’ve put up for this day, and then come back. Meanwhile, I’ll look at the gim mari getting cut up. Okay, did you do that? Good. Maybe now you can sympathise with how full I was starting to feel. There was a wall there before me, and I was going to either go over it, through it, or under it via the sewer system. The sewer system was probably a safe bet. However, I was saved by the most unlikely (and diminutive) of heroes. Maggeoli. At first they said they didn’t have any, and then an older woman (who it turned out was the daughter in law of the granny with great teeth) interceded and sent someone out to buy the Westerner a bottle of maggeolli. She had good teeth, too. The maggeolli was what I needed. The tang of it cleared up my digestive tract to the point where I could allow the starch entry, finding a new home to coagulate in my bowels. However, like when you eat too many pyrogies, it was obvious that we were going to need some serious walking. So, once we’d walked back to the car (and that woman was out there shooing another potential customer away from parking in her lot) we decided to go check out Dongdaemun. Dongdaemun has changed. When I first came here way back when, we’d stayed in this area. Back then it was stalls and old fashioned markets that were way too cramped for me to move around in. When I came back in ’98, it was still much the same, except now it was overrun with Cyrrilic script, and shouts of “nyet, nyet!” everywhere. But now…..it was…..well….upscale. This area had flourished, in part from the development of Chyeonggyecheon which ran into here, which leant a certain fashionable flair to the district, and also in part due to the inexorable rise in Korean living standards (although this was an interesting debate with Yoonhi and Jason, which I’ll try to cover later). Okay, it was upscale to the level of MBK in Bangkok, but this was a pretty long haul up the evolutionary ladder from where we’d been before. It’s a pity. I’d actually looked forward to buying fabric while I was here. I’d remembered that Korea had a wealth of fun fabrics which would be great for shirts. Not now. Now you buy everything cut and prepped for the fashion markets. Except, of course, it’s all cut for Korean frames. Jason had already mentioned that he couldn’t buy anything here. We did a bit of desultory shopping in the malls, and then headed back outside. None of us needed anything here. Outside was more fun. The Dongdaemun stadium was packed about with stalls, stands, and stuff. Said stuff including food vendors, which perked me up a bit. I asked Jason about the stadium itself, and he told me it was now pretty much a flea market, which is a good sign. We did the grand tour of the stadium and its stalls. I felt better about things. Heck, as long as there’s stuff on sticks, you know that things haven’t gone too far astray. And then there was the place that was offering fresh made “nice burgers” for 1000 won apiece. I wonder what they put in a ‘nice burger” for 1,000 won? Yoonhi remembers being surprised by one hamburger that consisted of an inch of cole slaw. I wonder if they’d make me a “nasty burger” if I brought the soondae and offal? And then I tried to get Serena to enjoy some shoestring yams. That might not have been the best idea. Sleep was beginning to sound like a really good idea.

October 21 – We keep on going We walked from Myungdong to Insadong. We were hoping it would work off a bit of the food. On the way, we passed by Chyeonggyecheon in the day, a ribbon of green stretching away through the city. This also afforded me another reason to curse not having brought the video, as a senior citizen group was on the banks of the stream doing farmers’ dances, as Yoonhi refers to them “the twirly thingy dances”. Moving from there it was a winding journey through back streets jammed with interesting looking hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Lots of noodles, rice dishes, curries, and “quick meal” joints. You navigate the alleyways by looking for the telltale towers piercing the sky – in particular the Jongno Tower. It may be hideous, but it’s easy to spot. Approaching Insadong at last, we came upon the Knife Gallery. I kept expecting Rod Serling to come out from behind a picture with a cigarette in one hand and a cleaver in the other. This was a fine little display. I like knives. They cover the functional, such as the ones used nowadays for cooking, hunting, gutting, and stabbing. They also cover the historical, with a good selection of Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and European and Oriental weaponry. There was one section that went in detail through the forging of the blades, detailing the mud packing used to get the slashing curve on the Japanese sword. And they cover the ornate, with made to order replicas of blades used in movies. Yes, there was a lot of Lord of the Rings stuff. A whole lot. Insadong is about three things: 1. tourism – lots of shops selling stuff for the foreigners. 2. antiques – lots of shops selling stuff that they claim is old. 3. Art – lots of shops showing and selling stuff that they claim is art Along with the traditional this and that shops, there is an awful lot of art. A few restaurants, to be sure, and lots of street stalls. The restaurants are generally a bit upscale, restored houses transformed often into one-dish, no menu specialty spots. But the predominant theme is art. The street was pretty well packed. We even some a couple of Westerners, not a common sight throughout our trip. Serena immediately found the toys. No big surprise there. And we found some stands where we had no idea what they were selling. One place had things that looked very much like my mother’s buttertarts, the ones she only makes at Christmas, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they’re not the same. But when it came to real art, Serena and I found something pretty close to perfect. A whole gallery, up one flight of stairs, was packed with action figures – primarily from anime – and piles of old manga. What a great place that was. They had most of the Transformers, and Nausicaa on her flying board, perhaps a dozen Godzillas, Astro Boy, Speed Racer, and perhaps every GI Joe ever made. Don’t smirk, the New Tretyakov Museum in Moscow had action figures, too (okay, we laughed outright when we saw them there). One of the stalls was selling glutinous rice, fresh stuff – the latest harvest – from Boseong. This stuff is steamed (not boiled, as it normally is done here), then it’s half dried so you can carry it around in your pocket and eat it as you travel. This isn’t a particularly modern thing. I hate to think what it’d look like after a few days in my pockets. I had to do it. I had to try some bundaeggi. And I was even sober. Y’know, I’ve eaten – and enjoyed – a lot of things. Bamboo worms, crickets, deep fried scorpions, congealed bowls of pig blood, bladders, and even those crispy fried tarantulas on the road to Sihanoukville. But these were just nasty. I managed one, and then realized that if I didn’t like something, I didn’t have to finish it. Not even my mother would’ve made me finish this. Maybe. I ditched it in a garbage can after trying to get one of the others to taste some. Maybe they’d have tasted better deep fried? Yoonhi was putting her time to better purposes. She spotted a stall with a line up about forty long, and figured that this had to be worth eating. She was – as usual – right. Hoddeok. Nice and hot, the dough freshly pulled out of the bucket, and the cakes slapped down on the hot griddle. There was another, more established Dragon Beard place across the way. It was the same folks, but this one was a proper shop, with seating inside, and the “making of” display up in the front window. I was really starting to wish I’d brought the video. Our primary reason, of course, for visiting Insadong was none of the three given a few paragraphs earlier. We were here because we’d promised Serena that we’d take her to the video arcade we’d seen when we’d raced through here a few days ago. We’ve now learned not to take Serena to video arcades. At least my ears have learned that. Once we’d reeled the girl back in, and Jason had gotten in some batting cage practice, we took our hoddeok and headed for Jangchungdong for chokbal. I needed some pigs feet. Wonjo ilho jangchungdong halmeoni jib. The First Original Jangchungdong Grandmother’s Place (as opposed to the “2nd Original”). Beneath the title it talks about the different tv stations that have talked about them. KBC, MBC, SBS….. Just back up the street is Fat Grandma’s place. And there were a few other Grandma’s around selling chokbal as well. If you wanted pigs’ feet, this was ground zero. Original Granny was packed, the place a flurry of knives, bones, ankles, trotters, and people eating a lot of food. We head to go upstairs and wait for a couple of minutes for a spot. At least this gave me time to get my shoes off Once they’d hosed down the table, we got our chokbal. We were still kind of full from Myungdong and Insadong, so we took it easy and only ordered one large. It’s a beautiful plate when it arrives. A chaotic mess of pink meat, brown skin, and white bones. We call it “feet” but it really covers from toe to shank. As you’d expect, it’s eaten as ssum, wrapped in lettuce with fresh green onions and garlic. There were cubes of mu kimchi on the side and bowls of water kimchi of different sorts. All to be accompanied with chilis and garlic. Over here, you can get your own darned water. There was a water station back near the cash register, and Jason volunteered to ferry drinks back and forth. Soju, however, you just wave and they’ll rush over a bottle or three. It’s good to see there’s some preferential treatment still to be had. Lucky for Serena they had mandu (dumpling) soup on the menu, as she wasn’t too thrilled by the bone fest we were engaged in. All of this sort of worked up our appetite. Plus, we’d been joined by two of Jason’s friends, and it just seemed way too early to be calling it a night. Next: Starch!

I bet the "silk ice cream" may be beondaeggi, the larva, used in the flavouring. I was wondering why they didn't have that in Korea!

I've gotta get busy and try and make some of these! I wonder where I can find a pit viper around here? (I do think the ice cream cone full of pasta is an odd counterpoint to this)

It was October 11 when Serena was ambushed by what she'd expected to be shoestring potatoes. Think of this. The poor girl was expecting something slightly crispy, but going over to the marginally soggy side after having been out of the oil too long. A taste that too me brings back thoughts of graveyards (I can't say why). Instead, what she bit into was a stone cold nail of a sweet potato. You could've driven these through wood. I'd make Easter jokes, but it's the wrong season. Hence, shoestring yam fries are evil. (see, I always have a reason! It may not be coherent........) As for Cold Stone, I must admit that my trips to North America are few and far between. I suspect that the flavours are similar, as this would be an outlet of the same. But, I'll pass the mike on that to other, more knowledgeable folks who I know are out there.

October 21 – Part 2 – Taking It To The Streets As soon as we stepped outside of the bibimbap place, Jason and I stopped dead in our tracks. Spaghetti in a waffle cone. To say our jaws went slack might be an understatement. Maybe I’m reacting in the wrong way. Maybe this is the new Thomas Keller! Maybe not. One of the things I’d been lusting after soondae. I’d seen it on the streets several times. Every time it was covered with plastic saran wrap. I remember my first soondae. It was in Cheju City (not New Cheju City – which would be a great name for a film), and we were wandering through the old market lanes. I found an ajime gleefully stuffing intestine, twisting it off, and then stuffing the next boudin. I had immediately demanded some, and then took my place on a short wooden bench inside the rickety shack. Ah, those were the days. This was a sad, sad echo of those distant days. Yeah, I know, it looks good. Bits of offal, all that blood. Anyone is going to look at that and just get overcome with food lust. But this was just way too much rice. It didn’t have the bits and pieces in there, and they didn’t have anywhere near enough blood. Pfah! I was not happy. In retrospect, I would’ve been better off having some of the golpengi in the tub next to it. They were a good size, and there were plenty of toothpicks to use to winkle them out. Jason dragged us in (well, we actually went quite willingly) to Cold Stone Creamery. The deal here is a long, ultracold slab of stone that’s used to work up fresh ice creams on the spot, with lots of berries and other things mixed in to your specs. Plus, you get waffle cones! Serena heartily approved. (But, why, oh why, wouldn’t she get hers in a waffle cone?) And, coming right out of there, we came across the bbobgi stand. “bbobgi of the good old days”. Two for 1000 won. It’s just white sugar with a little bit of baking soda. You just “boil” the sugar in a thing like a Turkish coffee pot, then pour the melted sugar onto a flat surface, and then stamp it down flat with the round thing, and then hit the flat thing with a cookie cutter to make an impression. Yoonhi remembers this. The deal is that if you can get the shape out without breaking it, you get another one free! Yoonhi says if you do a hundred, you’re lucky to get one. However, this place lets you cheat. They provide pins. If you did that in the good old days you’d’ve been hounded through the streets. Serena was hooked. But she’s too impatient. However, that meant we had to stop at every stand doing these (but this is the only one that provided pins). After that, it was something really neat. Dragon’s Beard. This is basically yeot. Sticky rice, honey, and nuts and stuff. They start with the yeot, push a hole in it, pull, and then double over and do it again, getting more and more strands each time. At the end, you have 16,384 strands, at which time you work in the nuts and stuff part of it all. I bought a box. It gets kinda hard after awhile, but it was really good when it was fresh. Close by was a woman doing spiral cut potatoes. You do potatoes with oil, you want surface area. This works. It may not work as well as the Marge Simpson hairdo potatoes I’ve had in China, but it’s a close second. Yoonhi was happy with the next stand. Chestnuts. Fresh roasted chestnuts. And nearby there was more octopus (cup of ‘pus would probably be an unfortunate name), and little tubes full of ginko nuts. And corn, but Jason, Yoonhi and I have grown up on Peaches & Cream and Jubilee from Chilliwack. That means, “don’t eat corn in Korea”. Jason described it, and it sounded an awful lot like corn in Cairo. And then there were those evil deep fried yams. They were everywhere. Serena is still traumatized about that. And then, speaking of trauma, there was a set-up by the Falun Gong (or Falun Dafa) detailing what the Chinese government is doing to their members. It’s an interesting topic, and as soon as I showed some interest I was buried in literature. Extremely interesting material, but I won’t go into it here for fear of being too far off topic. Also, it would put you off your food. Don’t expect to see me in Tibet, either. But, I’m getting too heavy. Just up the road, I found an old friend. I still think the Meatloaf scene in Rocky Horror was a great foodie segment. And then Serena found another bbobgi. And then, of course, there was odaeng. We’ve hardly talked enough about these fish cakes, always found on sticks in fish broth in carts and 7-11s. Fish flesh ground up with some starch in there to bind it. Fish balls. Okay, that’s enough talking about that (you can tell I’m a big fan). “Hey, I like odaeng! I’ve always liked odaeng” protests Yoonhi. I’m in trouble now. Next: More of a very long day

We used to fly back to Cairo from Cyprus and Greece with around two dozen or more bottles of wine. There was never a problem (although I have my wife do the packing), and that was in the 80's. Customs: clink! clink! What's this? Us: wine Customs: clink! clink! And this? Us: more wine Customs: clink! clink! What is wrong?! We have wine in Egypt! Us: would you drink it? Customs: go ahead.

I'm jumping ahead (and I don't have the photo loaded) but we bought a big bag of those crabs crispy deep fried when we passed through Lan Tai on the way home. It's a Chinese product, but there's a lot of hiragana on the bags, so I suspect it's intended for the Japanese bar snack market. I'll get some pics up when we get to the 23rd!

That was going to be my next recommendation. Everytime we phone Vancouver to check with Yoonhi's family on a food item, they get on the internet (and that site's one of them).

Those little crabbies. Just crunch your way right through the whole thing. In terms of heat, I didn't eat any of those ones in the bucket. The bigger ones that we had at Kae Song Jib on October 16 were barely spicey at all, more of a "sweet red" flavour. When I've seen these, they're a panchan on the side. But they'd be good as drinking food (anju), too. Anyways, I'd better get back to work our you guys are gonna lynch me. note: editted to add in the bit about being panchan or anju