The menu here is very compact . . . there’s a few kinds of medicinal teas, and sweet red bean porridge, a clear demonstration of Fatman’s guidelines for finding good food. Most of the medicinal teas are medleys of spices, herbs, fruit, and nuts that make for a slightly bitter, heady brew that will leave your sinuses, throat, and soul happy. To balance out the bitterness, the drinks are served with crystallized ginger, for a sweet-spicy kick that will clear your palate for the next wave of goodness. Between all the melding flavors, you’ll be ready to face the cold air with a bit more equanimity.

The only exception to the tea menu is an extraordinary sujeonggwa. This punch made from dried persimmon, ginger, and cinnamon can be wan and merely sweet in the wrong hands. Thin and insipid canned “nostalgia” drinks can’t hold a candle to the rich, spicy sweetness of 2nd Best’s. It’s deeply and intensely flavored, redolent of all its main ingredients; there’s the spicy zest of the ginger, the soothing spice of the cinnamon, and the concentrated golden sweetness of the dried persimmon. Even on a chill day, the warmth of the flavors compensates and makes the day seem a little brighter.

It’s the patjuk that steals the show, though. Smooth and almost creamy, the combination of sweet rice and sweet red beans is exactly the right texture for slurping as the pale November light fades. The rice cakes almost melt in your mouth, while chestnut and ginko nuts add another texture and layer of nutty and slightly bitter flavor to balance out the sweet read beans. It’ll warm both the heart and the hands, soothing away the stresses of the day.
2nd Best is small, with only two small rooms of very limited seating. It’s got a sort of retro tea house/coffee shop vibe, which only adds to the warmth and charm . . . as does the closeness of your neighboring diners. If it’s too crowded inside, they’ll happily package up your drinks and porridge to take with you. They’re located on the main drag of Samcheongdong, on the right hand side as you walk north. The drinks start at 5,000 won, but go up significantly for the more elaborate medicinal brews.   Even so, it’s both a healthy and satisfying way to end a chilly day.

Ah! But why the Second Best Place in Seoul? “Where on earth is the first place?” we hear you cry! Well, dear readers, it IS the best place . . . the name is merely to leave them something to aspire to. It’s hard to build on near perfection, but 2nd Best is not going to stop trying just because they’re already better than everybody else!

Got that? The best, bar none.
While cupcakes haven’t yet taken over every bakery, cafe, coffee shop, and biker bar in Seoul the same way waffles have, they’re on the cusp of being a major trend. You can get them in department stores and upscale chain bakeries, and even a few specialty stores, like Lamb in Samcheongdong.
Fatman is telling you to forget about all of those. They’re not worthy!
Why not? Start with cupcakes that are more muffin than cake, with a dryer, grainier crumb than a proper cake. Then, top it off with a mountain of sugary frosting sweet enough to make anybody gag, and you’ve got the typical overpriced Seoul cupcake.
Not here though . . .

Absenthe’s cupcakes are exactly what they ought to be ~ miniature cakes, moist and flavorful. There’s everything from traditional favorites like chocolate and peanut butter swirl to more indigenous Korean flavors like sweet red bean (팥/pat) and bukbunja (복분자) to creative mixes like expresso and absinthe matched with frostings of a richness unimaginable and unobtainable in most Korean bakeries.

Buttercream, baby, buttercream. Rich, wonderful, velvety, caloric buttercream. And when they put red velvet cupcakes on the menu, they’re real red velvet cakes with real cream cheese frosting, not some nonsense that’s been dyed red with some white sugar gunk on top. Apple-cinnamon cupcakes likewise benefit from a judicious and tangy kick of cream cheese. But Fatman’s personal favorite is the Love Hawaii:

A sweet tropical cupcake topped with coconut creme anglaise and peach sauce, with a delicate lei of buttercream flowers, it may well be the most decadent dessert in all of Seoul. If there’s another one out there . . .well, Fatman’s ever-expanding waistline doesn’t want to know. This is enough.

Except it’s not. To support their delicious line of cupcakes, Cafe Absenthe also serves up a great variety of hand-drip coffee, espresso drinks, non-coffee drinks, and coffee-based cocktails. Some of their choices, like a rich vanilla drinking custard, are absolutely unique in Seoul. You’ll certainly not find a more meltingly rich hot chocolate anywhere else. Their menu is always changing and expanding, so check the menu when you get there. Or don’t. Just ask their very knowledgable barrista/barkeeper, or the charming owner. They’ll point you to just the right cupcake and drink to match.

Cupcakes are 4,500 won (just like every other cupcake in Seoul), and drinks start at 5,000 won. Absinthe is 13,000 won a glass.

Absinthe is tucked away in a side street near Gyeongbokgung Station. Take exit 3 and walk straight for about five minutes until you reach a four way intersection with an organic coffee shop and a Kodak store on the right hand side. Turn right at the intersection, then a left down the first alleyway, next to the plant store. Go straight (past Kohei Cafe/Gallery) until you reach a three-way intersection, and Cafe Absinthe will be on your right at the fork.

muchas gracias, dunkin' donuts!

The good news is that some of these are much better than you’d expect.  The Greek yogurt filled donut doesn’t have the full flavor of real greek yogurt, but it does have that yogurt tang to the filling.  Kimchi and lentil croquettes are competent, although they still taste pretty much identical to the ones you find at Paris Baguette and Tour le Jour and just about every other bakery in Korea.   The other Indian donut is too overpowered by the chocolate glaze to have much lentil flavor (we’re inclined to think this is a good thing) while the bean-y-ness of the “콩” flavored old fashioned is pretty subdued.   As a matter of fact, only two donuts impressed us particularly, albeit in equal and opposite directions.  Let’s start with the good, shall we?

The garlic and olive oil coffee roll was an unexpected success. Although the garlic flavor could never be mistaken for anything but artificial, it was largely non-offensive, like a little sprinkle of garlic salt on your morning toast. Combined with the sweet glaze, it actually made for a fun sweet-salty interplay of flavors. Best of all, there was a real drizzle of olive oil over the whole thing before glazing, adding a little bit of rich olive taste and an intriguing mouth-feel to the donut. It’s actually . . . well, kind of edible. We might be tempted to order this once in a while, if they were out of our traditional favorites.
Equally intriguing, but not in a good way, was the mysterious and coy bean-filled Japanese donut. Fatman was certainly curious ~ Koreans already use beans, mostly black beans, in a wide variety of foods with often tasty results . . .

But what kind of cruel trick is this donut?!? Where usually one finds a nice Bavarian creme or splodge of jam was an incomprehensibly flavored sludge. We wracked our brain (and frantically scraped our tongue) for answers. The Korean ad campaign and information identifies it as 콩, or bean. That’s pretty non-specific, so we looked for further clues. The bag it was served in was labeled “소이” Ok. Soy. Soy beans. But that still didn’t explain the unconquerable awfulness assaulting our taste buds. Then, we looked down on our tray and saw a little description of each donut, and learned the terrible truth: 낫또. That’s right. DD made a natto-cream donut and foisted it upon the innocent. NATTO!

Now, this is not an objection to natto, per se. We actually kind of enjoy the stringy, oozy, gooey beans. But this donut just isn’t right . . .the natto has been mashed into some kind of mushy paste, loosing the distinctive texture. Do you know what that leaves you? The flavor, mashed and masked with whatever sweet additives, preservatives, and miscellaneous junk it takes to turn it into a donut filling. This was wrong, wrong, WRONG on every level.
It was so wrong, we encourage you to try it yourself. Or at least foist it on some unsuspecting friend whose horrified response you can videotape.

The Wall Street Journal ran an interesting article on the expansion of Dunkin’ Donuts in Korea today, saying that the chain was looking to almost double the number of stores in South Korea, along with turn Koreans into morning coffee drinkers. We ask you, do Koreans really need any help with that?

There’s a few problems with the article, which confuses older and widespread promotional schemes like loyalty cards with new efforts. We’re also wondering where we can get those delicious-sounding soy doughnuts the article promises (we’re pretty sure they’re either talking about the pat-filled ones, or have confused them with the much-missed tofu doughnuts from Mister Doughnut) and note that like loyalty cards, seasonal and locally-oriented products have long been part of marketing the product here, and not just for DD. We really had to get a quote from a young woman saying that it’s cool that they used one of the biggest TV stars for their commercial? Is this kind of advertising surprising to anyone whose lived here for more than five minutes?

But the biggest mistake here may be the idea that Koreans don’t really jive with coffee yet, and that the new commercials and roastery mean an attempt to create a new market, rather than cater to one that already exists.  They’re not aquiring new tastes, but having the ones they already have catered to.

Let’s get this clear: Koreans love coffee.

And not just any coffee ~ fancy, freshly roasted, hand dripped, 6000 won cups of organic pleasure. Offices across the land are equipped with drip coffee makers and instant packets. Men and women from Uijeongbu to Mokpo meet, date, chat, study, and work over cups of coffee. And frankly, Fatman wishes the WSJ would tell Koreans that they’re not supposed to like coffee in the morning on the way to work, so we could get our cup of joe without waiting forever in line behind all those locals who apparently don’t need their morning fix.

What the article (and apparently the upper management) failed to grasp is not that Koreans are being persuaded into new consumption habits or using new marketing strategies, but that the place and meaning of Dunkin’ Donuts (and many other western chains) is radically different here. Koreans won’t grab doughnuts and run because that’s not what DD is here for. People grab and run with doughnuts from the stateside branches because they’re older, uncomfortable, unwelcoming, and built to make people leave. If the international management is trying to encourage their Korean customers to do the same, they’ve got a lot of remodeling to do to make their stores nasty enough to make the office workers want to get up and leave . . .

So, hungry readers, what do you think? Was the WSJ off the mark? Is DD’s international management out of the loop? And are there really soy bean doughnuts in the case?

Tip of the fat hat to B in J (Again. Doesn’t he ever sleep? How does he always find these things first?)

thanks, segye.com! he sure looks like he's enjoying that!

That’s what the Chosun Ilbo is calling Chocopies, which have apparently become enormously popular among North Korean workers at Kaesong. English here, 한국어 여기

In honor of the peace-bringing potential of this humble snack, Fatman would like to share with you two “recipes” for the best damn sweet on the peninsula:

1) Frozen Chocopie:  Take still-wrapped chocopie.  Toss in freezer until June.  Take out of freezer, unwrap, and consume while hoards of mosquitoes buzz around your head, thinking only of how much sweeter your blood will now taste.  For garnish, throw another one at your best friend’s head, then be filled with momentary regret when you give them a concussion – only momentary though, because obviously they’re in no condition to eat their chocopie and you’ll have to do it for them.  Mmm, yummy.

2)똥파이 (“Poop Pie”):  Take still-wrapped chocopie.  Mash it up without opening the wrapper.  Toss onto something hot, preferably one of those gigantic propate heaters, or the hottest spot on the ondol.  Wait until you cannot possibly stand another moment of anticipating the oozy, gooey, marshmellow, cookie, and chocolate goodness that awaits you.  Burn your hands pulling open the foil prison of sinful chocolate decadence.  Sigh, because life doesn’t get any better, or because you just wolfed down a snack that bears an uncanny resemblence to the bowel movement it will become.

Bonus points if you can figure out the reasoning behind the title of this post!

Bonus Bonus:  As long as we’re talking about inappropriately named snacks, go check out Zen Kimchi’s Ricetard review.

Mammoth Bakery is just off the main square in downtown Andong, near the Pizza Hutt and Shinhan Bank. Baked goods start from 1,000 won, with cakes starting in the 15,000 range, sandwiches around 3,500 won, and espresso drinks are very reasonably priced at around 3,500 as well.

Read more about places to wine and dine in Andong over at our Hub of Sparkle write-up!

In honor of Pi Day, Fatman would like to point out a place to get . . .well, little pies! Tartine in Itaewon is one of the few places that serves up the petite treats, and in great variety. The small, European-style bakery/cafe on one of Itaewon’s side streets has a convivial (if cramped) atmosphere of western charm. More importantly, it has a large selection of pint sized pies in a variety of flavors from fruit to custard and beyond. Canadians rejoice, you have found your butter tart connection!

You can select your pie (or from their cookie and brownie collection) and have it packaged to go, or you can enjoy the pie right there in the store, ala mode and warm and gooey. You know which one Fatman would recommend, right?

The fruit pies are very fruity, with chunks of blueberry, strawberry, cherry, rhubarb, or whatever growing thing is in season, and very sweet. They’re not so completely packed with fruit however that the unwary will be deceived into getting all their daily servings of fruit, so worry not about the idea of actually consuming something vaguely nutritious. Rhubarb and strawberry were a standout, highlighting the amazingly symbiotic relationship these two have when baked together. It’s like a film by Park Chan-uk starring Choi Min-shik ~ just two things that belong together and always produce something worthwhile. There’s also a rhubarb-cherry rendition, but it can’t match the perfection of the classic combination. In the meantime the blueberry could have stood for a bit more of a fruity punch. All the fruit pies though suffer from one particularly Korean (and a bit peculiar, since it is jointly run by a Korean and an American) failing, in that there’s too much of a gelatin tinge to the proceedings.

Tartine also has a selection of cream and custard pies. Their coconut custard came out elaborately plated and topped with toasted coconut. Perhaps just a tad on the side of being too sweet, it had an good heavy creaminess to it and was nicely balanced with flavors of coconut and vanilla. The downside was an over-whipped and over-sweetened topping that fought with the creaminess of the custard instead of accentuating and complimenting it.

The pecan pie won raves for the excellent abundance of nuts and the gooey-ness of the caramel. It is in this pie that the heavy, thick crust finally finds its balance with the ingredients it contains. In some of the other tarts, the thick, heavy crust overwhelms the fruits and creams, giving you more crust to chew on than the pastry can stand up to. In the pecan pie though the thicker crust helped cut the oozy filling and keep it all together as a work of culinary goodness. Here the ratio worked instead of fighting between the sweet interior and the heavy crust.

It turns out the best thing on the menu at Tartine’s isn’t even a tart.
Their hot chocolates are the best to be had in town: Thick, creamy, and luxurious, there’s not much short of homemade that can match them. Add an optional shot of cacao liqueur and you’ve gone from luxurious to unworldly. The perfect amount of sugar harmonizes with the rich chocolate for the perfect cup of relaxation.

Tarts are 6-7,000 won per tiny pie, and in the neighborhood of 2-4,000 for cookies and brownies. Hot drinks start at 3,000 for coffee, and run upwards of 4,000 for European hot chocolates. To find Tartine, take exit 1 from Itaewon Station (Hamilton Hotel exit) Head towards the KFC, and you’ll find Tartine on the right hand side of the second alley on the right.

If this is what it takes for animals to become human, Fatman is staying wild and free. The tiger had the right idea . . . it isn’t worth becoming a woman if you’ve got to eat this stuff to do it! Mugwort is an herb thought to be good for all kinds of folk medicine like thinning the blood, and Koreans have long used it for its herbaceous flavor and ability to give food a deep green color.
But what’s good for the ddeok isn’t necessarily good for the doughnut.
This was hands down one of the worst doughnut ideas ever conceived, and the execution is worse. Bitter, unpleasantly herbaceous, and coated with sugar, we’d just as soon stay in the cave. Forget being the founder of the entire Korean race – just give us something to wash away the taste! Just look at the horror on this poor bear’s face at the thought of being locked away with that doughnut for 100 days!

Our advice (and that of Ms. Bear) is to stick with the hot and now original doughnuts for which Krispy Kreme is justly famous.

And, eat your garlic.