Hanjeongshik (한정식) is hands down the best and most efficient way to get a wide variety of the freshest, most seasonal foods. In one single meal, you’ll get a spread that covers the forests and fields and farms’ very best, often prepared using family recipes. It’s a little more spendy, perhaps, than your typical abbreviated lunch menus, but there’s no better way to experience the real depth of Korean food than to sit down at one of these meals.

But if you’re looking for a particularly special rendition of hanjeongshik, look no further than Chongsujeong. This Samcheongdong staple serves up a fairly standard table in terms of sides, with everything from seasonal greens like onion stalks to a silky 묵 (muk: savory jelly) to panfried corvina. There’s usually at least two soups on offer, including doenjangjjigae and kongbijijjigae.

All this would make it a pretty decent place for hanjeongshik, but not spectacular. Luckily, there’s one important item that sets Cheongsujeong apart from the crowd: 홍합.

This restaurant serves no insipid 공기밥 (plain rice). Instead, their rice is steamed with the added goodness of mussels, and enhanced with just a touch of sesame oil and soy sauce for a uniquely rich and flavorful rice. It’s almost gooey and has a pronounced nutty tone, and a single bowl will leave all but the most expansive eater absolutely stuffed. Which, incidentally, is how the restaurant looks at peak times, so be prepared for the possibility of a short wait.

Although its housed in an old traditional home, a modern renovation has left the front rooms fairly charmless, so try and ask for seating in one of the rear rooms. The full hanjeongshik set costs 12,000 won, and is only served to parties of two or more. Don’t despair if you’re a single diner though, because an abbridged lunch set, the 홍합도시락 (honghap doshirak) will set you up with all the most essential parts of the meal for a very reasonable 7,000 won.

Cheongsujeong is very easy to find, on the west side (left as you head north from Gwanghwamun up towards the park) of the main drag of Samcheongdong, just before the 3-way interesection leading back to the road to the Blue House.

In other words, sometimes you want a big ol’ slab of donggasu like the one from Namsan Wang Donggasu (남산 왕 돈까스)!

Nowadays trendy Japanese donkatsu brands tend to dominate the market, selling thick, juicy slabs of pork that has been panko-breaded and fried to a delicate crispiness.  They accompany it with finely seasoned sauces and freshly grated sesame seeds on top.

This is delicious, but it’s never going to satisfy your hankering for old-style Korean cutlets, pounded thin and coated in a heavier, crunchier batter.  “Wang” style cuts, like the ones at Namsan Wang Donggasu, are a serious piece of meat.  A single cutlet is large enough to cover a very, very large plate.  Imagine a slice of pork the size of your head – now pound it out thin and flat, and you’ve got a vague idea of what kind of mosterous meat awaits you here.

There’s not a lot of frills here. The plates and flatware are the cheapest of the standard plastic and aluminum settings you see in most low-end Korean restaurants. The only side dishes you get are some token pieces of kimchi, radish, and peppers. For a starter you get a bowl of wan cream soup that is obviously not from scratch.

But you’re not going to go eat at Namsan Wang Donggasu for that ~ you’re going to go because they serve you a giant piece of meat the size of a hubcap, and because they don’t mince around with much else. If you’re not there for the cutlet, there’s very few options: You can try your fork at the fish cutlets, which are ok, but definitely not the main show. There’s also a few jjigae on the menu, but nobody seems to order them . . .

What everyone is here for is food that is straightforward. It’s not the biggest taste revelation you’ll ever experience. The sauces are canned, the soups are powdered, and there’s really not much to choose from. But it isn’t trying to be anything more that what it is: A giant piece of fried meat . . .simple, cheap, and filling. And really, isn’t that good enough?

There’s lots of Namsan Wang Donggasu places around Seoul, but if you really want your nostalgia fix, you’re going to have to climb partway up Namsan. Just past the cartoon museum you’ll find a whole row of cutlet houses, most of which sell almost the exact same food, to be frank. But that’s ok ~ it’s a brush with a piece of culinary history that’s having a hard time competing with gussied up modern versions. Besides, once you’ve hiked Namsan, won’t you need those calories anyway? The standard cutlet costs a mere 6,500 won, with cheese, curry, and spicy versions ringing up at no more than 1000 won more. Fatman can’t think of a better way to finish off a Namsan hike!

So where to scratch our sushi urge in Ichon? Look no further than Yeolhae. This second-floor hideaway hosts some very talented sushi chefs who take their fish seriously. The restaurant has several private rooms for you and your guests, but the small counter is where all the action is.

The selection of fish isn’t as extensive as it is at some restaurants, but the fish here is so fresh it’s practically swimming, and expertly prepared. The salmon here  especially stands out, with none of the mushiness that sometimes develops with poorly cut or stored fish. And unlike many places, their tamago (omelet) is house made, with a prominent sake and mirin tang behind the sweetness.

The accouterments of the deal are no joke, either. The salad bites that accompany the set menu are tart and refreshing, including a silky seaweed, juicy squid, and a beautifully bite-y Korean-style jellyfish.  Korean sides like a smooth white kimchi sit side by side with brilliantly sour Japanese ostukemono (assorted pickles) and fresh, real wasabi.

In addition to their sushi and sashimi, Yeolhae has an extensive mixed menu of Japanese and Korean foods from rice bowls to tempura to soups.  Their daegutang (대구탕:  pacific cod soup) does a great job of balancing the spice with depth and richness from the seafood.  The albap (알밥:  rice with roe – usually flying fish roe) pops with briny bits and finds a bit of sweetness too from the vegetables.  Tempura likewise is well-made with excellent ingredients, if just a tad heavy on the batter.  Finish off your meal with a little fried corvina and a small plate of fruit, and you’ll be well sated.

Yeolhae is a tad on the expensive side, with rice bowls starting at 12,000 won, lunch sets at 22,000won, and dinner sets beginning at 35,000 won. One of their more elaborate sushi plates can easily run over 100,000 won, but the quality here is enough to justify the expense. Unless you’re dining with a big group, try and sit at the counter so you can chat with the chefs, who will point you towards the best catch of the day.  Patrons here tend to be a bit older, a fact reflected in the drink menu which tends heavily towards whiskey, scotch, and traditional alcohols from around Asia.  If you’re adventurous, try the sake infused with roasted fish fins for a strangely satisfying savory tipple.
To get to Yeolhae, take exit 4 from Ichon Station and walk straight out the exit to the main street. Turn left and go one block, and Yeolhae will be on the right hand side of the street on the second floor, above the Mr. Pizza.

이번 주부터 한국의 대표적인 축제 중 하나인, 안동 국제 탈춤 페스티벌이 시작되었다. 페스티벌에 대해 좀 더 알고 싶다면 공식 웹사이트(Eng/Kor)를 방문해 보길 바란다. 그게 아니라 먹을 것에 대해 알고 싶어서 왔다면 정말 잘 온 것이다.  안동은 음식으로 꽤 유명한 곳이다. 대부분의 다른 지방은 그곳을 대표하는 한, 두 가지 음식이 있지만, 안동에는 이 지방 특유의 맛을 지닌 음식들이 아주 많다. 여러분 입맛에 맞는 음식을 분명히 찾을 수 있을 것이다.

image courtesy the 빛 http://shine.tistory.com/367

Look for a place serving a very dark-colored jjimdalk; it should be nearly black. Light brown and orange tints to the sauce are going to yield a chicken with a lot less depth. Although lots of places serve jjimdalk, the best place by far is the “Chicken Alley (dalkgolmok)” in Andong Market, downtown. The entire street is nothing but jjimdalk restaurants, and you simply can’t go wrong.

제대로 된 찜닭을 맛보려면 색깔이 매우 어두운 것을 선택하는 것이 좋다. 옅은 갈색이나 오렌지색에 가까워 보이는 것은 맛의 깊이가 그만큼 얕다. 여러 곳에서 찜닭을 맛 볼 수 있지만, 그 중 최고는 단연 안동 구시장 안에 위치한 찜닭골목이다. 골목 전체가 찜닭을 파는 가게만 있기 때문에 못 찾을 리가 없다.

Another famous product of the region is Andong Salted Mackeral (간고등어/gangeodeungeo). Before modern highways and railways, the Nakdong River (낙동강) was an important transit route for shipping goods, including fresh fish. The problem with mackerel is that it spoils quickly, so preservation techniques like packing the fish in salt for shipping evolved. By the time the fish reached inland areas like Andong, the fish had taken on a strong, distinct saltiness. The firm, white fleshed fish is usually served grilled or as part of a spicy soup. There are several restaurants specializing in it, both along the “Food Culture Street” downtown, and in the cluster of restaurants out by Andong Dam.

안동은 간고등어로도 유명하다. 지금의 현대식 고속도로나 철도가 발달하기 전에, 낙동강은 생선을 비롯한 다양한 물건을 실어 나르는 중요한 요충지였다. 그런데 고등어를 다룰 때 가장 문제가 되는 점은 바로 빨리 상한다는 것이었다. 그래서 상하지 않게 하기 위하여 미리 소금으로 절여서 운반하게 된 것이다. 흰살 생선은 보통 굽거나 매운 양념에 조리는 방법으로 요리한다. 간고등어를 전문적으로 하는 음식점은 안동 시내에 있는 ‘음식의 거리’나, 안동댐 근처에서 많이 찾아 볼 수 있다.

Another specialty peculiar to this Confucian outpost is “heotjesabap/헛제사밥” – literally, “rice for fake ancestral ceremonies”. Chesa, or memorial services for ones ancestors, are preformed on death date anniversaries and have their own special set of foods (한국어 링크) to be prepared and served. Well, who could be content waiting for a jesa to roll around? Some enterprising soul decided that he wanted some right then and there, and thus began heotjesabap.  Another story says that the common folk of Andong created it to imitate the local yangban. Assorted jeon (fried foods) and banchan (sides) accompany a bowl of rice served with soy sauce instead of pepper paste for a milder, more sophisticated version of the familiar bibimbap. Look for the cluster of restaurants at Andong Dam, across from Wolyeong Bridge (월영교).

또 다른 음식으로는 헛제사밥을 들 수 있다. 헛제사밥이란 제사를 지내지 않고 먹는 제사음식이라는 뜻이다. 제사같이 조상을 위해 지내는 의식에는 특별하게 정해진 음식만 쓰여진다. 하지만 제사가 돌아 올 때까지 기다리고만 있을 것인가? 그래서 한 모험적인 정신을 가진 사람의 아이디어로 인해 헛제사밥이 시작되었다는 이야기가 있다. 그리고 안동 지방의 일반 민중들이 양반을 흉내내기 위해서 시작되었다는 이야기도 있다. 헛제사밥에는 여러 종류의 전과 반찬이 밥과 함께 나온다. 그리고 좀 더 순하고 특별한 비빔밥의 맛을 내기 위해 고추장 대신에 간장도 같이 나온다. 헛제사밥은 월영교 건너편의 안동댐 근처에서 맛 볼 수 있다.

After all that traveling around, you’ll surely want to quench your thirst. What better way to do it than with a big swig of Andong soju? Ok, maybe not a big swig; this local brew packs twice the alcohol of regular soju so be prepared for a powerful kick. Brewed by master distiller Cho Ok-hwa (조옥화), the traditional liquor has a much smoother feel than normal soju, and a very distinctive sour taste. It’s a little like drinking gym socks – but in a good way!

여기 저기 돌아다니다 보면 아마 굉장히 목이 마를 것이다. 안동소주를 한 병 쭉 들이키는 것보다 더 좋은 것이 어디있으랴! 한 병은 좀 무리인가?! 이 전통 소주의 알코올 함량은 일반 소주의 두 배나 된다. 하지만 무형문화재인 조옥화 선생님이 빚은 안동의 전통 술인 안동소주는 좀 더 부드럽고 독특한 맛을 느낄 수 있다. 아마 아주 톡 쏘는 맛을 느끼게 될 것이다. 물론 좋은 의미에서…

Check out their very informative website here (English) and here (한국어). Also check out the Andong Soju Museum, across the river from the main downtown area.

안동소주에 대한 정보는 여기(Eng / 한국어)에서 더 자세히 볼 수 있다. 아니면 강 근처에 있는 안동소주 박물관을 한번 찾아가 보는 것도 좋을 것이다. <Korean by MAXZEST>

Located near Maebong Station (line 3) in southeast Seoul, Star Chef may be a bit off the beaten foodie paths, but well rewards the traveler who makes the trek.  Located on the ground floor, the low-key interior opens up to a wide, welcoming patio while the open kitchen gives glimpses into the normally secret world of chefs.

Chef Kim has twenty-some odd years of experience as chef, on two continents that shows in not just his knife skills, but also in an adventurous and playful interpretation of a wide range of cuisines. While fusion food has a tendency to rely on crutches and props, Chef Kim’s experiences have translated a real understanding of the tastes of a variety of cuisines and how they can be combined and merged into something new and exciting.

Some of the simplest food combinations are the best, and this appetizer of broccoli with garlic oil has the perfect balance between the mild crunch and bitterness of the broccoli with a deep and luxurious garlic oil, enhanced by tiny shards of deep-fried garlic.

This beef and mushroom salad nearly stole the show. Tender slices of marinated beef and whole cloves of roasted garlic added a sweet note to pungent, bitter greens which were in turn balanced by the mild meatiness of  lightly broiled mushrooms. The slight creaminess of the dressing was offset with a bit of  spicy kick that works along with the acidic sweetness of the tomato wedges, the crunch of the salad, smoothness of the dressing, and chew of the meat and mushrooms made it a dance of different flavors and textures. Many of the greens and vegetables come from the chef’s own organic farm in Jeolla-do. Hands down one of the best salads out there, anywhere.

Tangsuyuk is a Korean-style Chinese food favorite, but it would be hard to match Star Chef’s rendition. Most places have heavily battered pork floating in a one-note sauce more sweet than sour. Rest assured, this version is the best in Korea: Tender slices of beef are encased in a shatteringly crisp batter (Chef Kim uses potato starch instead of a heavier flour) that holds that crispiness even after being tossed with a deeply-flavored sauce that sits just between sweet and sour, without either side of the equation dominating. Combined with the vinegar-soy tang of the dipping sauce, this is the way tangsuyuk should be.

Kim’s kitchen does a few variations on traditional Korean pork dishes like samgyeopsal and bossam. His XO samgyeopsal has rich, fatty slices of pork in a special xo sauce, served topped with cilantro and atop a bed of baby bok choi that add a vegetal bitterness that keeps the dish from being overwhelmingly rich.

Some people might find the dish a bit heavy, but it matches well with many of the beers, liquors, and wines on Kim’s extensive menu.

In an even more Korean vein, this glorious take on kimchi pork stir fry takes a humble dish and reinvents it. The rich earthiness of the kimchi and fattiness of the pork could, in lesser hands, combine for one of those overwhelming, gut-busting bits of pub grub you can find anywhere. Here, the heaviness and pungency of the base ingredients are lightened by a delicate, playful sauce as well as the deeply green and refreshing leeks and bits of cilantro hiding under the pork so that the whole dish practically sparkles.

A whole, fried mullet becomes the building block of this dish that dances across the tongue. The humble bottom-feeding mullet is elevated to a new level of cool by perfect preparation that uses the moist, mild white flesh as a base to experiment with a pan-Asian collection of seasonings. Hints of South East Asia spring forth with the cilantro, while Japan takes a bow with a pickled ginger slaw, and a piquant soy-based dressing keeps it all lively. The staff expertly dresses and de-bones the fish tableside, giving you a bit of free entertainment.

Dishes begin at 10,000 won and go up from there. While it might seem like a bit of a splash for some of the items, the quality here is exceptional and well worth it. Besides, all of them come in generous portions that will easily feed an army – or your company mates when you head out for 회식.

Star Chef:  서울시 강남구 도곡동 417-2/ Seoul, Gangnam-gu, Dogok-dong 417-2 (click here for the map – Korean only)

02-529-8248

hat tip to superlocal for the map!

When you’re eating out at a Korean pub, dried fish is definitely on the menu. Eating some of these is a straightforward task, but some fish need a little finessing. Nogari are small walleye pollock fish that are first dried and then briefly roasted and charred before serving. But while some fish are small enough to just pop in your mouth and chew, these are just large enough to require a little work before the hot, chewy morsel can be successfully eaten.

Step 1:

Turn the fish belly side up, and carefully dig your fingers in where the two sides of the fish meet.  Start to pull the belly apart.

Step 2:

Carefully pull the two fillets apart, working your way from the belly to the tail.

Step 3:

Remove the spinal cord and discard.  Dip nogari in soy sauce, gochujang, or mayonnaise for a little zing.

The restaurant itself is tiny, with only one real table supplemented by stools and a low bar hugging the walls. It’s cramped, but not short on atmosphere: carved furniture, pictures, and calligraphy from the Center of the World hang on the walls. But none of it hides the fact that this is a place for serious eating, not some prissy see-and-be-seen hangout where the food doesn’t stand up. These dumplings mean business.

The menu is limited: Do you want mandu, mandu, mandu, or mandu?

The mandu here are a little different from their Korean 왕만두 (wang mandu: “king” mandu, made with a thick, floury wrapper) cousins:

They’re fairly small, what you’d find on the streets of Shanghai (Fatman brought some Chinese friends in to confirm authenticity), and the meat fillings in particular hold a surprise – a substantive amount of rich broth lurks inside to squirt the unwary. The pork meat dumplings are velvety and deeply satisfying, with complex spices taking a supporting role to the mouth-filling glory of the meat.

The 부추야채 만두 (buchu yachae: Asian leek) rendition isn’t nearly as rich or heavy, but showcases their kitchen’s wrapper-making prowess. The leek and egg filling balances perfectly with the faintly chewy and oh-so-light mandu skins, bringing textural properties into the limelight. It’s the golden ratio of wrap to filling that only the few, the proud, the 천진포 people can produce.

The 해물만두 are no slouch either in the taste department, with each little morsel of seafood distinct enough to be toothsome and satisfying, but without sacrificing unity of flavor. The pan fried leek mandu are remarkable – a small amount of leek and egg filling is loosely wrapped in a thin mandu-skin and pressed in a greased griddle for a fabulously good combination.

The leek is fresh and vibrant, just barely held in check by the crispy skins of the mandu long enough to dip in their vinegary dipping sauce, spiced with a bit of their chili oil. Refresh your palate with the complimentary jasmine tea, and you’ve got yourself one of the best mandu deals in town. 고기 and 부추 만두 are 4000원 for a serving of 6, the 해물 are 5000원 and 지짐 부추 만두 are 6000 won per serving.

One note: The staff here is all Chinese, so not only will ordering in English be difficult, Korean can prove just as big a challenge. Still, there are menus in English and Korean on the wall, so you can always point to what you want. Seating and service is very limited, so consider carry-out if you’re short on time to wait for a table.
To find Cheonjinpoja, head north along the stone-walled road from the Anguk Building at Anguk Rotary, north of Insadong.