It really doesn’t do anything but tofu soup and tofu-related products. Would you like tofu, tofu, or 두부? Beyond that though, you’ve got an amazing range of flavors your soup can take on . . . beef, seafood, mushroom, pork, it’s all there. And if it’s not, ask – a vegetarian companion got the kitchen staff to send out an animal-bits free version with just a few words to the waitress.

It should be said though, that this place is serious lunchtime grub, and if it can’t be communicated to the waiter or waitress in about five nanoseconds, they don’t care. They want your order, and that’s about it. This isn’t so say they aren’t attentive – they’ll have your waterglass filled and your banchan on the table before you can blink – but these folks are not there to discuss the latest Korean food globalization trend or whether or not makgeolli sales will surpass beer during the World Cup. They are on a mission to serve you fast. The whole restaurant reflects this, with no effort to gussy up its offerings. Chopsticks, spoons, napkins, and eggs are all stowed away in the tables themselves. Efficiency rules here.

But what a beautiful reward you get for giving up the fussy details of other restaurants! Is there anything more glorious than simple food, served well? We think not.

Whatever you order, expect it fast. So fast, in fact, that the soup usually hasn’t come off a rolling boil yet. Volcanically hot, give it a minute and devote yourself to transferring your rice from the stone bowl it comes in to one of the metal ones provided for you on the table. Pour a bit of the provided 보리차 (boricha: barley water) in and let it mellow into a lovely, lightly savory treat for later. Your soup, meanwhile, is still boiling, so drop an egg in there to cook if you like.

The real glory of this place is that they’ve managed the balance of flavors for the soup marvelously – although blisteringly hot and on the very spicy end of things, the richness of the broth helps tone it down and make the heat pleasant. Whether you got the meaty, umami-laden pork or beef versions or the lighter but still mouthwatering seafood or mushroom versions, you’re going to enjoy it. And whether you dump your rice in the soup or pour the soup over the rice, it still makes a hearty pick-me-up of a meal. It ain’t fancy, but the food is solid lunchcounter grub of the highest order. End things with the mild, nutty palate-cleanser of crispy rice and barley water, and sit back full, happy, and ready to face the summer heat.

Myeongdong Sundubu is located outside exit 5 and 6 of Euljiro 1-ga (을지로 입구역), behind the 국민은행 (KB). Sundubu dishes are between 6-8,000 won, and there is a limited menu of beer and appetizers.

Vegetarian food has been growing in popularity in recent years, with new veggie oriented restaurants popping up all the time. Sanchon (산촌) is the granddaddy of them all, having been around in Insadong for decades serving up distinctive temple-style food under the direction of monk-turned-chef Jeongsan. With more than thirty years of experience in temple cuisine, and a boatload of awards, articles, and cookbooks under his belt, he’s turned the restaurant into one of the most elegant places to eat in Insadong, using Buddhist themes and motifs inside a converted hanok to create a meditative atmosphere. Even the bowls and utensils have been carefully selected to evoke the wooden begging bowls used by monks.

Sanchon serves multi-course fixed price meal, starting with a seasonal porridge and running through sixteen courses until you wind up with a cup of tea and basket of traditional rice puffs. If you make it that far . . . the amount of food is enough to defeat all but the most dedicated eaters. It’s a good thing you’ll be in a contemplative mood for your meal, because you’ll be crawling by the end, overwhelmed by the sheer number of dishes.

Things start out light enough. A small bowl of porridge and some sour water kimchi whet the appetite before the main meal begins to appear. Late spring brought us a meal using lots of kale, but deeper in winter we’ve seen black sesame make an appearance, showing off the deep seasonality of the foods here.

Seasoned rice wrapped in steamed pumpkin leaves showed the beginning of the more toothsome elements still to come. Just as you get accustomed to nibbling, heartier elements start showing up – and in intimidating numbers of dishes.

And so it begins! A plethora of small dishes of seasoned vegetables lets diners get a sense of the range of available products that you can draw upon for delicious eating from flora only, without ever touching on fauna. Everything from deeply meaty mushrooms to silken acorn jelly to bamboo shoots and ferns show up on this remarkably diverse menu.

There’s also the first of two courses of jeon, this one concentrating on small, flavorful bites of veggies. They’re just a tad oily, with a meltingly soft chewy interior and a touch of crunch to the exterior, and perfectly bite sized. Some of the texture is owed to the use of buckwheat rather than wheat flour in the mix, which also gives it a slightly heartier texture than usual.

The other jeon course consists of different mushrooms. Mushrooms are always a tricky beast to pan-fry, requiring just the right amount of oil and heat to get a crispy batter that doesn’t gum down from the water released by the mushrooms as they absorb heat. These won’t dissapoint, though, nor will the amazingly complex and mild soy sauce that accompanies them.
Along with other warmer foods there’s a  gloriously flavorful japchae, which in lesser hands can be bland and merely chewy. Instead, this is packed with flavor and has a wonderful al dente texture.

There’s also a wonderfully warm country-style tofu. Like the best hand-made tofu, this one has a rustic density to it that matches well with the mellow soy-based sauce that picks up the nuttiness of the sesame seeds in the garnish.
As if all that weren’t enough . . .

Inside the seemingly decorative basket on the table lies another set of dishes ~ this time, seasoned mountain vegetables. From spicy to bitter to mild and savory, these cover a dazzling range of flavors. You can taste each one individually, or mix them together to create your own bibimbap. Fatman likes to preserve each taste as unique, but to each their own . . .

And what could possibly be a better end to the meal than a hearty but blessedly mild doenjangjjigae? More restrained than the boiling pot of salt you get most places, this one is very carefully balanced so as not to be dominated by the saltiness of the beans. There’s a nice hint of bitter from mountain herbs, some sweetness from squash, and more of their wonderful rustic tofu. When the meal is done, servers turn up with teas or tisanes, and sweet, crispy rice puffs for a light, sweet end to a seemingly inexhaustable stream of dishes. Those of you who just can’t get enough of them can buy more cakes, alongside crackers and snacks, at the connected gift shop.

Sanchon is a marvelous place to take the lachanophobic among us. The food is impecabbly seasoned and balanced, with a whole range of flavors and textures many don’t associate with the vegetal range, and thus is the perfect staging ground for introducing vegetarian cuisine. Trust us, the carnivores won’t even notice that there hasn’t been a scrap of meat on the table ~ they’ll be far too busy chowing down. It’s also a good introduction to a part of Korean cusine that’s not very well known. The value of meat as protein has long been established in Korean minds, despite a long and rich history of Buddhism-inspired vegetarianism. Although Buddhist cusine is available near temples, most of these are still located in the mountains, making it a rustic cusine that’s hard to locate in the urban forests of Seoul. This makes Sanchon especially important as a way to represent a distinctive tradition outside it’s normal habitat. There have been a few concessions to the palate of most Seoulites though, and the restaurant does use ingredients generally frowned upon for monks, such as peppers, garlic, and onions. With an advanced reservation, however, you can request your food as restrained and austere as any monk’s.

Sanchon is around the halfway mark of Insadong. Look for a large sign with Chinese characters (村山) and a cartoon monk that says “temple cooking.” Go down the alley and turn to the left. The lunch menu costs 22,000 won, and dinner about twice that. Dinner, however, comes with a traditional performance that includes Buddhist dances and drumming, so consider it instead of more expensive shows like that of the Korea House. Call 02-735-1900 for reservations.