Korean BBQ

Jump to Comments

From raw meat to soju bombs, Katie O’Hara explores Korean cuisine and table etiquette while living in Yeosu, on the southernmost tip of the Korean peninsula.

Sizzle, snap, hiss…the skillet on the table in front of me whispers—beckoning me to the exotic flavors of duk-kalbi, a Korean barbequed chicken dish.  The heavily seasoned chicken and mixed vegetables are almost ready.  The waitress enters with a platter in hand.  To my horror, she dumps three squirming young octopi into the burning grill.  Seeing the shocked expression on my face, she attempts to conceal the octopi underneath the vegetables, but the tentacles continue to slip out from beneath, wrapping around the spoon as she forces them to the depths on the pan—to their fiery death.  I can almost hear their little voices begging for mercy.  I glance at the display aquarium behind me and am tempted to snatch the eight-legged creatures out and throw them into the water. 

Their skin has turned to reddish hue and the flurry of activity has ceased, but I can still see the gills of the uppermost fish pulsating.  I preoccupy my attention with the kimchi, (spicy pickled cabbage) pretending not to notice as the waitress cuts the bodies into bite-size pieces.  I force myself to try the octopus to satisfy my eager hosts.  Despite the desire to plug my nose and swallow the rubbery legs whole, I chew carefully, remembering the horror stories about Koreans that have choked and died from still-functioning octopus suction cups attaching to their throats.     

Not all of my experiences with Korean food have been this intense.  In fact, after having gotten the hang of chopsticks, they have been pleasant, and the food—delicious. 

Kalbi, a marinated beef or pork dish, is cooked on a grill in the center of the low table.  Once the meat is brown to liking, it is cut into bite size pieces with shears and picked from the grill chopsticks.  The meat can be eaten as is, but is most often rolled into a Korean taco.  My favorite method—a large slice of mu (Asian radish), the meat dipped in sesame oil, a clove of roasted garlic, a dab of hot pepper paste  to give it a bite, topped with shaved onion and cabbage in a spicy vinaigrette, wrapped to perfection in a crunchy lettuce leaf—like a gift for the anticipating taste buds.   The unique blend of flavors is peppery and sweet at the same time. 

A Korean barbeque not only satisfies hunger, but is a great social meal.  I spent a great many Sundays with close friends, seated on floor cushions around a low table.  The side dishes fill the tabletop—a smorgasbord of colors and flavors, eaten collectively, by picking the desired bite from a dish a moment before you eat it, instead of placing an entire portion on a plate.  The only plate that is actually your own is a serving of spicy cabbage and onion and a bowl of rice.  One heaping plate of food it not consumed at once, leaving more room for conversation, and allows for full appreciation of the separate tastes entering the mouth. 

Soju is essential to a proper kalbi dinner.  My friend Kyeong-ho once informed me that a shot of soju before each bite cleanses the palate, preparing the mouth for the full flavor of the food.  Soju, the Korean vodka is cheap, plentiful, and toxic.  Originally the liquor was distilled from potatoes, but today, the potato version is expensive.  Most people buy the economical brand, about 2000 won ($2) a bottle, which is purely made up of chemicals.  This may explain the searing headaches that I had woken up with after a night of soju at the No-rae Bang, or karaoke room. 

One should never pour their own drink, and it is considered rude to let another’s cup go empty.  When pouring a drink for a superior, both hands should be used, the same when receiving.  A superior pours with one hand while the other rests on the pouring arms elbow.  At the same time, it’s disrespectful for an employee to take a shot directly in front of his boss, even if it was poured by him.  I was confused the first time I saw a man turn his head to the side and cover the glass while he drank a shot.  I wondered who he was trying to fool, since he was clearly taking a shot of alcohol.  Another method is the “bomb.”  The same idea as the Japanese Saki bomber, the soju is dropped into a glass of beer, usually Hite, the Bud of Korean beers. 

Koreans will insist on you eating more and more.  The first dinner I had experienced with my employer and his wife, they kindly helped me, help myself by actually feeding me like a child when I was unable to make cover the distance from the meat skillet to my mouth.  Picking the tenderest cuts from the grill, they shoved their chopsticks in front of my face and motioned for me to open my mouth wide like a baby bird.

My family, including a picky 16-year old brother and vegetarian sister dined in a Kalbi restaurant with my employer during their visit to Korea.  My mouth was watering as we waited for the meat to arrive and the firing up of the grille.  However, the meat brought out was not the usual marinated beef.  The woman brought out a variety of smaller dishes, each with 4 pieces of raw meat, fish, and other unidentified raw objects.  She did not start the grill.  My director watched us expectantly, waiting for us to dig in and devour the raw meat.  We glanced at each other from across the table knowing what we had to do.  “Please, help yourself,” said my director, motioning to the red oozing carcasses.

Not wanting to offend my boss in his gracious offering, we slowly picked up our chopsticks and chose a piece.  I chose a slice of raw beef, at least I knew what it was, which is more than I can say for some of the other dishes.  One looked like sea anemone, another I think pig intestines.  I doused the meat in sesame oil and popped it in my mouth.  Upon seeing that my brother and sister were not helping themselves, he believed it to be a result of inadequate chopstick skills and took to feeding them as he did with me when I first arrived.  Luckily, he was so busy feeding raw meat to my brother and vegetarian sister; he didn’t notice I had only eaten one piece. Thankfully, after that, the meat that was to be cooked came out, and we enjoyed a delicious meal.  My boss continued to feed my brother, but he gratefully opened wide and accepted the giant lettuce wraps with bubbling cooked meat.  Vouching for Korean food, my 5-year vegetarian sister has returned to carnivorism after a forced taste of kalbi.  Don’t just listen to me, get to a restaurant and try it yourself.

Before the grill has cooled at the end of a kalbi meal, the remaining white rice can be dumped into the grill and mixed with the leftover condiments on the table creating a dish called bibimbap.  After the addition of the hot pepper paste, Bibimbap clears the sinuses and ignites the tongue.  If the scrumptious kalbi lettuce wraps—so good they’ll make you cry—don’t leave tears in your eyes, the rice will!

 

Recipe for Kalbi

Ingredients:

 

• 2 lbs beef or pork
• ½ cup soy sauce
• ½ cup cooking wine
• 1 tbsp sesame oil
• 4 sliced green onions
• ½ inch slice grated ginger
• 1 cup mushrooms
• 3 cloves minced garlic
• 6 cloves sliced garlic (big slices)
• 1 tsp sugar
• ½ tsp pepper

Cook:

Mix soy sauce, sesame oil, cooking wine, sugar, pepper, onions, ginger, and minced garlic in a bowl.  Slice the meat halfway through.  Marinate for 5 hours.  Brown the meat in large saucepan, next to the mushrooms, sliced cloves of garlic.  Cut into bite size pieces.

Accessorize:

Arrange a variety of condiments on table in separate small dishes.  Each diner should have his or her own bowl of rice and cabbage/onion in vinaigrette.

 

• Asian radish into very thin sections (found in Asian markets)
• Slice or shaved cabbage and onion in vinegar, sprinkled with pimento
• Korean red pepper paste (found in Korean or Asian specialty food stores)
• 2 tbsp sesame oil
• Whole lettuce leaves
• White rice

Eat:

Using chopsticks, dip meat in oil.  Place in large lettuce leaf.  Dap a bit of red pepper paste, and add desired condiments—onion, grilled or raw garlic, radish, cabbage, or mushroom.  Fold sides in and enclose.  Open wide and place entire lettuce wrap into mouth!

 

Kalbi shiktangs, traditional Korean restaurants where diners sit on the floor, inhabit every nook and cranny of the country—from tiny cherry blossom mountain villages to metropolitan monsters like Seoul and Busan.  My personal favorite, Dong-chi-chong, in Yeosu city, has great side dishes—like their spicy, crunchy mu-kimchi (pickled Asian radish.)  To uncover a good shiktang in your area, pop your head into a couple; a grill in the center of the table and a crowd of Koreans usually means delicious kalbi.  If you are working in Korea, ask your boss or coworkers for their local recommendation. 

 

A couple of recommendations in the Seoul area:

Hwangtomaru, Insa-Dong

Ondal

21 Gwangjang-dong, Gwagjin-gu

82-02-450-4518

 

Chushinjung

44-1 Yeouido-dong

82-02-784-6662

 

 

1 Comment

Filed under South Korea, travel

Tags: BBQ, food, South Korea, travel