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!

Fatman has already expounded on CJ Food’s recent entry into the international restaurant sphere with BiBiGo.  Fortunately, Fatman’s wonderful friends stepped in to supplement our interest in the chain by reviewing their new location in Los Angeles, California.  Let’s have a big, hearty round of applause for Han Kim for his intreped reporting!

Thank you, fatmanseoul.com, for giving me this opportunity to blog about one of my favorite passions, food. I was on special assignment to investigate the new phenomenon of Korean food globalization. The newest addition to the Korean food takeover (other than Issac Toast and BBQ chicken) is Bibigo.

BiBiGo’s newest location over the Pacific is in Los Angeles, near UCLA’s campus in Westwood Village. The modern signage is a little odd-looking, but cute. I could feel my Koreaness oozing from all my pores. “They used a spoon for a letter,” I thought, “awww, cute!”

Immediately I noticed the beers in the cooler by the entry. This “healthy” restaurant is trying to be healthy, but they have beer. At least they have some of the bori cha (barley tea) I’m familiar with. All the items available were about $9 or more. I went with the first option of Bibigo Rice, since my philosophy is the first thing on the menu is usually the best thing on the menu, else why would they put it first?I have a lot of rice options, and I get the most non-white looking rice, since I grew up hearing that the whiter rice is the worse for your health. I choose to get chicken since I thought I should lose some pounds, since I was going to be in a triathlon soon. Plus, it’s really hard to mess up chicken and I want to play it safe. My fourth choice on the menu was sauce, and I choose the citron soy since I like a little bit of soy on my chicken. But what the heck is green sesame? Undercooked sesame seeds? There were other entrees options to choose from such as Ruby Grapefruit Salad, Jap chae , or Duk boki (Spicy Rice Cakes), but I was craving rice.

Since they just opened, I wanted to give the business a chance and not judge too harshly on food prep. I could see chaos in the front as they tried to fill the orders, but it looked like only one person was putting the sides together. I noticed there were several managers running the restaurant, but only one was really helping while the others would stand there try to help but really just criticizing the workers. Dude, not in front of the customers! I wondered if he really knew what he was doing, or was just a investor who insisted on being there for the opening. If you are going to help, do your share instead of going over the mistakes that your workers might have made. After all, you’re the ones who designed the restaurant so that only one person can work the banchan station. One peeved customer waiting for 20 minutes for her food, but they only had half of the order completed. She was critical of the fact they didn’t take orders by phone to speed up the process. Korean food to me was never really fast food. If it’s fast, it usually ends up bad.

The food, on the other hand, was good and fresh. It had better be, since I I paid $9 for it. The banchan with shitake mushrooms, pickled cucumbers, and daikon went well. The chicken wasn’t that substantial, but it’s supposed to be healthy, right? The whole meal was served on top of a bed of lettuce. My non-Korean friend, Paul, got the bibimbap. He thought the bulgogi needed more flavor, but was happy with his bibimbap, even though he misses the egg. On a previous trip, I had tried the stone pot bibimbap and had one question: Where is my egg? In consolation, the broccoli and the spinach was good. All I needed was kimchi, but being in America I had to be satisfied with sliced jalapeno peppers.

The interior was nice, like a soothing, Korean, modern-looking restaurant. I feel like I could have stayed there to surf the net and chill with my friends. My friend said he could eat here once a month, as could I. It’s a nice place for a lunch date, or maybe dinner date, since they have beer. I doubt they will have a happy hour, but if this place served better anju, I’d be there everyday. I do hope for the best for Bibigo, since Korean food deserves recognition and it’s paving the way for other Korean food franchises to step into the American market.

Again, Fatman would like to thank Han Kim for taking the time to review BibiGo LA for us!

Fatman would like to extend a special thanks to Prof. Montgomery for taking both the time to join us for lunch, and for a fascinating conversation about the difficulties of translation.

Adding to the growing list of organic restaurants in Seoul, Mananim stands out for its singular devotion to the homemade. Now, lots of places out there feature homemade food – but how many of them make their own cheese, soy sauce, and vinegar? That’s right, everything is handmade by the owner, down to the vinegar and soy sauce used to season the dishes. At this point, Fatman wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the owner hand-raked the salt.

The restaurant is small and you’d hardly guess it was a restaurant at all from the profusion of jars, bottles, jugs, and onggi/옹기 (earthenware pots) sitting around obscuring the scant four tables. But find a seat anyway, and snack on fresh veggies and gochujang, steamed sweet potatoes, and salty 장아찌 (jangajji – pickled vegetables) while you decide from an unusually diverse menu.

Did we mention that every bit of seasoning, every slice of pickle, every scrap of just about everything is made by the owner? Just checkin’ . . .
Mananim’s menu straddles east and west, offering both organic and somewhat unique Korean dishes, from a refreshingly chilly northern-style chilled ddeokguk (rice cake soup) to rice steamed in sweet peppers, then crosses over to offer both a spicy Korean-influenced pasta and a creamy pasta made even more decadent with fresh herb cheese. It looks as homemade as it is, but the taste of the slowly melting cheese, al dente pasta, and fresh veggies add up to something that would be difficult to produce on one’s own at home. It’s humble food, but taken a step further.

The spicy spaghetti is a minor triumph, managing to balance the flavors so it still packs heat without being overwhelmingly hot, and even more uniquely manages to taste like a true fusion of western spaghetti sauce (which it isn’t – not a tomato is sight!) and the warming flavors of Korean sauces.

And just when it seems like she might be veering off course, the owner has brought the menu back into utterly traditional foods, including a tasty doenjang bibimbap. Heavy on the organic veggies and seasoned with the house 된장 sauce, the whole thing comes together for a dish that just screams wholesome.

Despite this diversity, the menu is only a page long, and includes only a few pasta, noodle, and rice dishes. All of them, even the seemingly traditional beef noodle soup are imprinted both with the owner’s unique viewpoint and with the goodness of all organic and all house-made ingredients.

In fact, the owner is half the attraction of Mananim. Funky, and almost hippie-esque in her relaxed state, she’s more than happy to chat with customers about the food, her ingredients, and the cosmic state. She’s a truly unique individual who despite her charming air of relaxation is seriously dedicated to good food in a way that goes far beyond what most enterprises or individuals can manage. Once you’ve wound down your meal with a complimentary bit of fruit and a sliver of bread and cheese, spend a few minutes investigating their vinegars, sauces, cheese and pickles, many of which are for sale for you to take home something far, far better than what you’ll get at your local supermarket.
Vegetarians rejoice! Many of the foods here are already vegetarian, or can be made without meat. And those with scant money in their pockets can also celebrate, with all dishes except bossam coming in at less than 10,000 won.

To get to Mananim, take exit 1 from Anguk Station (line 3) and turn to your right, taking the first right again to head north towards Samcheongdong/Jeongdok Library (정독도서관). Go down the first street to your left after you pass Andong Church (안동교회, and Mananim will be on the left. Alternatively, head south from Jeongdok Library and take the first through street on your right (at the 민들레영토/Minto) and Mananim will be towards the end of the street on your right.

The Cafe formerly known as Sobahn has reopened as Bibigo*. Along with Zen Kimchi, Fatman was involved in some early test marketing for both Cafe Sobahn and the new Bibigo concept. A concept that was really, roundly panned for having a silly name. Apparently, once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your marketing.
And it’s a darned shame.

The food isn’t too bad. It’s got a very corporate, packaged taste, but the veggies are fresh and the ingredients have been reasonably well thought out. For mains, there’s a choice of regular bibimbap, dolsot bibimbap, or the salad-heavy “bibigo.” For each of these you can chose from sprouted brown rice, white rice, black rice, or barley, and from a variety of sauces. The sauces are where things first start to get tricky, and show the weaknesses . . . do you want gochujang, ssamjang, lemon . . . or is it citrus soy? And is that sesame sauce green? What on earth is a green sesame??? Does that look green to you? If so, please adjust your monitor.

You can also chose to have beef, chicken, or tofu added to your bibimbap for an extra 1,000 won, making this a moderately expensive plate of food.
Things are just as confusing on their “tapas” menu. Leaving aside how on earth you can pass of any of these foods as tapas, the translations that have been done on this side of the menu are either careless or deceptive. The Korean menu is reasonably clear, although you could take issue with calling a stack of gareddeok and sweet potato covered in a candy-sweet gochujang sauce “ddeokbokkum” . . . but the English menu is completely nonsensical. What on earth are “Silver Noodles” ~ would you guess 잡채? Fatman wouldn’t. And 누룽지 셀러드 does not sizzle, thus negating the idea of calling a dish “sizzling salad.”

This wouldn’t be such a big problem if the main point of Bibigo weren’t a lynchpin of CJ Food’s grand plan to globalize Korean food. Perhaps the American and Chinese renditions will be different in tone, but the Korean flagship is far too upscale in tone and price to be accepted as “fast food” the way they’re aiming to join the market. Also, careless, stupid translations like “silver noodles,” “sizzling salad,” and “green sesame sauce” for products that aren’t silver, don’t sizzle, and aren’t green is going to damage them in the end. Other products aren’t explained enough for an outside audience (such as “ssam sauce” or even worse, “kohot” for gochujang) that isn’t familiar with Korean food. Even their English page isn’t terribly well edited. How can they expect to succeed overseas if they ignore the advice of people who know the industry, and then ignore basics like accurate descriptions of their very own food?
The food isn’t bad, and the dining space in Gwanghwamun is attractive . . . but without some quick moves, all CJ’s efforts to turn this into an international chain are going to be for naught. It doesn’t matter how healthy it is (not very, under all those sauces), fast (only if you’re getting bibimbap – tapas and side items all took time), or well-designed your interior is (although Sobahn’s was nicer).  Skimp on things like solid test marketing and editing, and you’re left with an overpriced K-town mall food court restaurant.

In other words, not so bad for a quick lunch downtown, but don’t hold your breath for the Bibigo chain to sweep the outside world and become the next McD’s.
To get there, head west from the south point of Gwanghwamun, towards the Hammering Man sculpture. Bibigo is on the ground floor of the Gwanghwamun Officia building, where Cafe Sobahn used to be. Prices for main dishes start at 7,000.

*Only the Gwanghwamun branch. Die-hard Cafe Sobahn fans can still get their fix on the campus of Seoul National University.

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.

Places to drink in Seoul tend to fall into discrete categories:  The chicken hof, the trendy cocktail bar, the neighborhood beer pub . . . looking for something outside these is often a challenge, and there’s a dearth of mid-range pubs in particular.  Trying to find something sophisticated that won’t break the bank, or a place that serves a decent range of food and drink is not an easy task in Seoul, where atmosphere comes only at a price, and restaurants and bars usually have specialized and narrow menus.

Morac, a newly-renovated Korean-style bistro in Gwangwhamun, is one of the very few restaurants in Seoul to achieve a balance between atmosphere and price, without sacrificing selection.  The location is especially nice, in the center of downtown Seoul and within walking distance of half the subways lines in Seoul.  They’ve done a spectacular job with the renovation, with multiple areas within the restaurant decorated in different styles that still manage to form a coherent whole.  With warm colors and big slanted windows, the interior manages to be welcoming despite its size, making it a good choice for both large parties and smaller, more intimate groups.  The style is modern, with a decided nod towards Korean tradition in the colors and patterns used, right down to the plates and bowls.

Morac has a wide, if not extensive, selection of alcohols, from wine and beer to makgeolli, with occasional specials and tasting menus to highlight particular genres.  This makes them ideal for groups with varying tastes, and gives lots of flexibility to the menu for matching foods and drink.

The menu changes yearly, but the CIA-educated chef turns out solid bistro fare, with an emphasis on meats and salads.  Although the food tends to be substantive, there’s a definite feminine edge on many of the foods, including the carnivorous offerings.  The seared beef belly in soy-based sauce, for example, has the sort of mouth-filling meat flavor people crave, but its thin cut, delicate sauce, and accompanying greens give it a sprightly edge.  The seafood pancakes, likewise, have a chunkier, more recognizable seafood flavor to them than many places, but the dish still manages to feel a little bit brighter and lighter despite this.  Morac’s version of dalkgalbi, spicy sizzling vege-chicken, may not have the depth of flavor and rich sense of melding together that more traditional versions have, but the individual flavors and spices stand out more distinctly and precisely, for an almost dainty take on the dish.  The mushroom trio and fresh salad bibimbap also stands out for its refined flavors and sensitive take on what is usually a heavy bowl of rice and vegetables.  This version instead feels light and airy, and retains its salad elements even as it manages to fill your stomach.  The only thing to watch is a tendency for some of the dishes to be slightly greasy, but it’s not really a barrier when there’s a little alcohol to cut through.

In the end, Morac is a welcome entry to the Seoul restaurant and bistro scene, having reasonably priced specials, well-thought out food offerings with an unexpected and pleasant feminine touch, and a selection of beverages that will leave nearly everyone in your party satisfied.  You could bring family or business associates during the day, and make it the location for your company dinner or date in the evening with equal aplomb.

As mentioned before, a version of this review appeared in the December issue of Groove Magazine. As such, it follows slightly different format than our usual reviews, and we were invited by the restaurant to conduct the review (id est they knew we were coming and we didn’t shell out our own cash for multiple visits.)

Some of the richness is also cut by the generous side of steamed green onion, which has been cooked just enough to remove the sting and leaves the diner with a pleasing contrast to the bite of the sauce and the richness of the chicken. It ensures a perfect balance of vegetable flavors to make the dish really quite perfect.

Finally, there is the makguksu. The perfect way to end the meal, both the spicy 비빔 and the cooling 냉면 versions are unusual both for their simplicity and for the gentleness of the flavors and the noodles. Made in-house, these noodles are remarkably soft and smooth, without the extreme chew of most versions. They’re almost more like a western-style noodle in texture, just barely al dente. The broth on the 냉면/nengmyeon style is absolutely extraordinary in its restrained and clean flavors, and utterly refreshing. The broth is almost clear, and uncluttered with the usual beef, boiled egg, pear, or radish that you find most places. It’s just lovely soft noodles, perfectly seasoned broth, and a bit of cucumber for crunch.

The spicy 비빔/bibim version is equally restrained, and the spiciness never exceeds a very pleasant warmth on the tongue. There’s a few more elements here, including some radish kimchi, but the overall impression is almost shy. This is a bibimguksu that has no need to shout. Soft noodles, crunchy veggies, a little bit of spice and a little bit of cooling broth come together in just the right way, in just the right proportions. It is so different from most of the bibimguksu served in South Korea that it almost seems to be a different dish entirely.
All the food does. While it certainly seems familiar, there’s always a more restrained touch with the seasonings, greater concern with balancing the flavors and textures, and a simple ethic of letting the real, underlying flavors of foods shine that make the food here a wonderful representation of North Korean home-style cooking. It’s a rare taste in Seoul, and one Fatman loves as an short culinary escape.

Finding Cheogajip is a bit of an adventure, but go out exit 9 of 양수/Yaksu station on line 6. At the first corner, make a right turn, and at the next through street make a left (leaving you now walking parallel to the main street). When you reach the Y intersection, just past the sauna, veer right. The restaurant is in an unmarked house on the right-hand side of a residential street, but you can locate it by looking for the small blue signboard listing their menu and phone number. Call if you get lost . . .

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!

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.