Food For Thought

In late 1996, when DW and I started making plans for our first trip to Korea, we went to the embassy, on Boteler Street, to enquire about work visas. It was there that we learned that the E-2 work visas for South Korea are actually processed out of the consulate, in Toronto.

But as we spoke with a representative, we were asked which city we would be working in. When we answered "Chŏnju," we were met with a smile.

"Ah, the epicurean capital of Korea," we were told. "You'll eat well."

The man at the Korean embassy was so right.

On my recent return to Chŏnju (I'm still recovering from the jet lag), as part of my research for my upcoming novel, Gyeosunim, I wanted to experience the food that I loved from 1997 to 1999. Sure, we have at least one really good Korean restaurant in Ottawa, but if I was going to gather other information, I might as well immerse myself in the culinary treasures that the city had to offer.

I made the decision, before I arrived in Seoul, that I would eat no western food for the duration of my trip. The only exception would be coffee, which had exploded in the country over my 20-year absence, and the bakeries, which had existed in my time and did offer western-like food.

To that end, I ate breakfast once, at a Paris Baguette Café, and twice, at a Hollys Coffee, while I was in Seoul. I experienced two different breakfast sandwiches and a fruit-filled muffin. And cappuccinos—if I was going to have a breakfast coffee, it might as well be a cappuccino.

On my first evening in Seoul, I ended up not eating. I had been well-fed on the flight—two full meals and a generous chicken curry sandwich—so I wasn't particularly hungry when I checked into my hotel, opting for a nap rather than a meal. My first meal was the next morning, at the Paris Baguette Café, near Namdaemun Market.

As I had written last week, my first full day in Seoul involved a lot of walking, and you would think that all of that exercise would have made me hungry. It didn't. Fuelled by the breakfast sandwich—egg, ham, and cheese on an English muffin—I toured Gyeongbokgung Palace, Bukchon Hanok Village, Jogye Temple (Jogyesa), Insa-dong, and Cheonggyecheon canal before returning to my hotel for a short nap. My only stop for refreshment was in a corner store, where I picked up a bottle of Pocari Sweat, an energy drink that was DW's and my go-to beverage on hot summer days.

And on that day, it was sunny and 29°C. Underneath my backpack, two layers of shirts were soaked through.

Because I was unfamiliar with the restaurants near my hotel, I decided to stay close to my bed and opted for the restaurant across the narrow road from my hotel. On signs that were posted outside its doors, I could see the various dishes that it offered, and my eyes fell on one familiar dish: kalbi-tang, a beef soup.

The dish was served piping-hot, in a stone bowl, and came with various side dishes, including kimchi, and rice.

I spooned half of the container of rice into the dish and kept the other half to eat as needed. I was concerned that I would become too full to finish the soup. That wasn't necessary. I ate everything, save the stuffed peppers, most of the kimchi, and one of the dates (or prunes?) that floated in the soup.

I was fully satiated, and tired. I returned to my hotel room and watched a variety show until sleep got the better of me.

The next morning, I tried Hollys Coffee, Korea's answer to Starbucks—though there were Starbucks on nearly every block in the neighbourhood of my hotel, far more than there were of the Korean chain. But I was saving my appetite for when I would arrive in Chŏnju, later that afternoon.

I had been thinking of kalguk-su since I started planning my return to my old city. It was the first meal that I ate in Korea, in 1997, and was a special treat throughout my stay. That meal was so memorable that I made it Roland Axam's first meal in Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary. In my planning for my return, I found the restaurant, now called Veteran, which had been rebuilt into a newer structure.

Kalguk-su is a noodle dish with lots of spice. I think that when they made my dish, they might have gone a little heavy on the spice, because while the flavours were exactly as I remembered, the intensity was greater. It was still a satisfyingly delicious meal, and it conjured lots of memories while I sat and ate, in silence.

One of the traditional breakfast meals that was introduced to DW and me by one of our good Korean friends, Ji-yeong, as a cure for hangovers. Kongna-mul gookbap is a soup that was heavily laden with bean sprouts and eaten with seaweed. A side dish of a semi-cooked egg, mixed with more seaweed, is the first part of the meal.

When I checked into my Airbnb, my hostess, Choon-ju, gave me a map of the Hanok Village and circled our address and the various restaurants in our neighbourhood. She pointed out the restaurants where, if I stated I was staying at a Hanokstay lodging, would receive a discount on my bill. She pointed to a kongna-mul gookbap restaurant and added that it would provide that discount.

The next morning, as I prepared to head out, I met Choon-ju, tending her garden. I bade her good morning and told her, in broken Hangul, that I was going to the kongna-mul gookbap restaurant. I pointed in the direction, in relation to the Airbnb, to which she asked me to wait a minute, and she went into her house. When she returned, she had her purse, and she said, "Let's go."

We walked for about two blocks and then turned right at an intersection. Choon-ju pointed out a building that housed the oldest tea shop in Chŏnju, suggesting that I try it out. I would have, but every time I passed by it, I was either on my way to somewhere else or it was closed.

Two doors down from the tea shop, we entered a restaurant that read 콩나물국밥 in stylized letters. Inside, the shop was basic, with simple tables and lacquered tree stumps for seats. Choon-ju directed me to a table and told me that she would pay for my breakfast, despite my protests. She even carried my side dishes to my table. I figured that she was friends with the owners, as she made herself at home in the kitchen area.

The bean sprouts were fresh and crunchy, the broth flavourful. The proper way to eat this dish is to place a square of seaweed on top and, using chopsticks, wrap the seaweed around the sprouts and make a blanket, which you pop in your mouth.

I have a video that I'll eventually share.

One of my favourite restaurants in 1997 and 1998 was a place that was located kitty-corner to my old hagwon (learning institute), Sinpo Woori Mandoo. In addition to making tasty mandoo, this Korean chain also had the best dolsot bipimbap, a rice and vegetable dish that is served in a hot, stone bowl. A raw egg is served on top, and as you stir the ingredients the egg cooks and the rice becomes crispy.

Of course, over the past 20 years, that restaurant was no longer on that corner, and I wasn't even sure that it was still open anywhere. But after a couple of days of keeping my eyes on the lookout, I found the restaurant among the shops that surround what was known as the Core Department Store, not far from the old guest house, the Gaeksa.

The dolsot bipimbap was exactly as I remembered it. Fresh vegetables, crackling rice, and the right amount of spice. My first bite took me back in time.

The next evening, for dinner, I returned to Sinpo Woori Mandoo for another favourite dish, maemil soba, which is actually Japanese in origin. Black noodles are served next to a bowl of ice-cold broth. On the side is minced garlic and wasabi paste. You take one batch of noodles and dunk it in the broth, and add the garlic and wasabi to taste.

One of the things I also loved about Sinpo (pronounced shin-po) was the side dishes: a yellow, sweet, pickled radish, and kimchi that is crispy and hasn't fermented.

One evening, as I was contemplating dinner, I had an overwhelming craving for duk-kalbi, a barbecue beef that is wrapped in a lettuce leaf with a variety of side dishes and a pepper paste, samjang. I searched Google for the best duk-kalbi restaurant near me, and there was one in the Hanok Village, less than 10 minutes on foot from my Airbnb. Being in the heart of the tourist zone, however, it wasn't cheap.

But it was worth it.

 

The beef was so succulent and the side dishes fresh and tasty. I even ordered a bottle of a traditional drink, mokoli, which is like a mild, semi-fermented rice wine. It has a milky appearance and the bottle must be shaken well before you pour each serving. It is served in a small bowl, and you must swirl it before each sip.

It was one of my best meals in Chŏnju and I have a story to share, of my experience while I ate, but I'll save that for tomorrow.

There's only one dish that I sought on my trip but never found. It's a bean-paste soup with mussels, called dwen-jahn djigae. Thankfully, we have it at the Korean restaurant in Ottawa, and I plan to satisfy that craving very soon.