Thursday, September 16, 2010
A Chewy Chuseok
To celebrate Chuseok, Korea's harvest festival, my students attended school wearing traditional Korean clothes. They also made a traditional Chuseok treat called songpyeon, which is glutinous rice dough (tteok), filled with different kinds of sweet fillings. Today we used sesame seeds, sugar and beans. They came out very chewy, slightly sweet, and very sticky!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I Heart E-Mart
There are few places to find foreign goods in Seoul: the Foreign Food Mart in Itaewon (a glorified Middle Eastern grocery store), Homeplus (think Korean Walmart), Costco (the same as in the states, but different) and E-Mart (Korean Target). To know which one to go to for which item takes time. Lucky for me, I've been scouring Seoul's markets for a year now; so when my craving for whole wheat bagels and cream cheese hit late Monday afternoon, I knew my only option was E-Mart.
To my great surprise, I discovered smoked salmon in the fish section. Then, capers. And beautiful cherry tomatoes for 2,000 won. I hadn't had lox and bagel since I paid $15 for it at a New York brunch restaurant in Itaewon months ago. It was time.
Crunchy warm bagel, rich cream cheese, delicate peppered salmon, juicy tomatoes, salty capers...I was making sounds that should never come from a kitchen...that is, when you share the kitchen with three roommates.
I should warn them that I bought three packages of salmon.
To my great surprise, I discovered smoked salmon in the fish section. Then, capers. And beautiful cherry tomatoes for 2,000 won. I hadn't had lox and bagel since I paid $15 for it at a New York brunch restaurant in Itaewon months ago. It was time.
Crunchy warm bagel, rich cream cheese, delicate peppered salmon, juicy tomatoes, salty capers...I was making sounds that should never come from a kitchen...that is, when you share the kitchen with three roommates.
I should warn them that I bought three packages of salmon.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Soju Taste Test
Before I headed to Korea, I did quite a bit of research. Admittedly, most of my research had to do with food. And with food comes alcohol.
In my defense, Korea’s drinking culture is fascinating.
For instance, it’s considered rude to decline a drink. You’re not supposed to pour for yourself. You hold your glass with both hands when receiving, and place your hand under your right elbow when pouring. You turn away from the eldest when he or she takes their shot.
I couldn’t wait to experience all of it for myself.
My first week here, roaming the streets of my neighborhood, I noticed a bar on every block. People were drinking outside convenience stores. Empty green bottles littered the tables in the restaurants. Businessmen were puking in alleys.
“This is insane,” I said to my co-teacher, who was showing me around.
“What can I say,” he replied. “These people love their soju.”
Soju: A distilled beverage native to Korea, often compared to a weaker, slightly sweeter vodka. It was originally made from rice, but most brands now supplement or replace the rice with other starches such as wheat, barley, sweet potato or tapioca. The first bottle was supposedly distilled in the 1300’s.
To say Koreans love this stuff is a huge understatement. According to the world’s leading soju manufacturer, Jinro, Koreans consume nearly one billion bottles of Jinro Soju every month. Wikipedia reports that the average Korean adult (older than 20) consumes 90 bottles a year.
So, what’s so good about this stuff? For one, it’s cheap. A 300mL bottle will set you back a mere 1,000-2,000 won (between 85 cents and $1.70). Second, it’s strong. Drink a bottle or two to yourself, and you might have trouble recalling the night’s events.
But, the real question: Does it taste good? Well, that depends on who you ask. Korean men tend to love it. Korean women seem to prefer the country’s second favorite spirit, makgeolli (Korean rice wine). Foreigners drink it cause it’s a cheap way to get hammered.
I think it tastes like rubbing alcohol.
Still, the shelves at markets are stocked with soju. Convenient stores have refrigerated sections dedicated to keeping it at just the right temperature. Servers at restaurants assume you’re going to order it with dinner.
“You know, maybe we’re just not drinking the right brand,” I said to my roommate Chris. “Maybe they taste different.” I suggested we have a soju taste test.
The following weekend, we invited some friends over to help decide on the best-tasting soju. The contenders: Chum Churum’s Cool (16%) Jinro’s Fresh (19.5%), Jinro’s Original (20.1%), and a bottle of North Korean soju (23%) Chris got from the DMZ.
We went one by one, shot by shot, blindfolded. And we took notes in case we blacked out.
Here are the results, transcribed from the pieces of crumpled paper I found strewn about the kitchen floor: Cool seemed to be the overall favorite, described as going down smooth with no aftertaste. Despite the pungent rubbing alcohol scent, the North Korean bottle came in second, for its pleasant, mild grape flavor. Fresh took third, with Original close behind. Both were described as having a harsh scent and taste, but Fresh got higher marks for its slight sweetness.
My conclusion: I’ll never like soju as much as Koreans do. I doubt I’ll ever order it when I return to the states. And I dream of the day when I can order a glass of good wine with my meal instead of a bottle of rice whisky. But until that day comes, I’ll do as the Koreans do.
Next time I’ll just make sure it’s with Chum Churum’s Cool.
In my defense, Korea’s drinking culture is fascinating.
For instance, it’s considered rude to decline a drink. You’re not supposed to pour for yourself. You hold your glass with both hands when receiving, and place your hand under your right elbow when pouring. You turn away from the eldest when he or she takes their shot.
I couldn’t wait to experience all of it for myself.
My first week here, roaming the streets of my neighborhood, I noticed a bar on every block. People were drinking outside convenience stores. Empty green bottles littered the tables in the restaurants. Businessmen were puking in alleys.
“This is insane,” I said to my co-teacher, who was showing me around.
“What can I say,” he replied. “These people love their soju.”
Soju: A distilled beverage native to Korea, often compared to a weaker, slightly sweeter vodka. It was originally made from rice, but most brands now supplement or replace the rice with other starches such as wheat, barley, sweet potato or tapioca. The first bottle was supposedly distilled in the 1300’s.
To say Koreans love this stuff is a huge understatement. According to the world’s leading soju manufacturer, Jinro, Koreans consume nearly one billion bottles of Jinro Soju every month. Wikipedia reports that the average Korean adult (older than 20) consumes 90 bottles a year.
So, what’s so good about this stuff? For one, it’s cheap. A 300mL bottle will set you back a mere 1,000-2,000 won (between 85 cents and $1.70). Second, it’s strong. Drink a bottle or two to yourself, and you might have trouble recalling the night’s events.
But, the real question: Does it taste good? Well, that depends on who you ask. Korean men tend to love it. Korean women seem to prefer the country’s second favorite spirit, makgeolli (Korean rice wine). Foreigners drink it cause it’s a cheap way to get hammered.
I think it tastes like rubbing alcohol.
Still, the shelves at markets are stocked with soju. Convenient stores have refrigerated sections dedicated to keeping it at just the right temperature. Servers at restaurants assume you’re going to order it with dinner.
“You know, maybe we’re just not drinking the right brand,” I said to my roommate Chris. “Maybe they taste different.” I suggested we have a soju taste test.
The following weekend, we invited some friends over to help decide on the best-tasting soju. The contenders: Chum Churum’s Cool (16%) Jinro’s Fresh (19.5%), Jinro’s Original (20.1%), and a bottle of North Korean soju (23%) Chris got from the DMZ.
We went one by one, shot by shot, blindfolded. And we took notes in case we blacked out.
Here are the results, transcribed from the pieces of crumpled paper I found strewn about the kitchen floor: Cool seemed to be the overall favorite, described as going down smooth with no aftertaste. Despite the pungent rubbing alcohol scent, the North Korean bottle came in second, for its pleasant, mild grape flavor. Fresh took third, with Original close behind. Both were described as having a harsh scent and taste, but Fresh got higher marks for its slight sweetness.
My conclusion: I’ll never like soju as much as Koreans do. I doubt I’ll ever order it when I return to the states. And I dream of the day when I can order a glass of good wine with my meal instead of a bottle of rice whisky. But until that day comes, I’ll do as the Koreans do.
Next time I’ll just make sure it’s with Chum Churum’s Cool.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Holy Duck That Was Good
Back in the U.S., if someone were to suggest duck for dinner, I would decline; assuming they had an expensive craving for French fare. However, when a friend asked me to join them for BBQ duck in my neighborhood (Jangan-dong) tonight, I didn't think twice.
Korean food isn't fancy. It's not presented on pristine plates. It's not drizzled with colorful purées or rich sauces. Meat is served as meat, vegetables as vegetables. And the cost reflects the simplicity. In fact, I can't recall a meal in Seoul ever costing me more than 15,000 won (less than 13 American dollars). Tonight was no exception.
Four servings of fresh duck meat, sliced potatoes, tteok (rice cakes), lettuce wraps, greens and unlimited banchan (small plates of vegetables) for 7,000 won a person ($5.90). The best part? The owner cooked everything for us and demonstrated the proper way to eat. Here are some pictures from the feast:
How the duck was presented to the table.
This was the perfect bite, according to the owner: A piece of duck atop spicy greens, rolled in a sliced radish and sesame leaf. There was a tangy mustard/vinegar sauce for the duck, and a spicy pepper sauce for dipping.
A look at the second helping of meat and potatoes.
Another way of eating the duck: wrapped in leaf lettuce, with sauteed sprouts, onions and spicy greens.
I went back and forth between wrapping the duck in lettuce, wrapping it with radish slices, and eating it straight from the grill with my chopsticks. If it weren't for the threat of second degree burns, I would've forgone the chopsticks entirely and eaten with my hands. Needless to say, it was some good duck.
Korean food isn't fancy. It's not presented on pristine plates. It's not drizzled with colorful purées or rich sauces. Meat is served as meat, vegetables as vegetables. And the cost reflects the simplicity. In fact, I can't recall a meal in Seoul ever costing me more than 15,000 won (less than 13 American dollars). Tonight was no exception.
Four servings of fresh duck meat, sliced potatoes, tteok (rice cakes), lettuce wraps, greens and unlimited banchan (small plates of vegetables) for 7,000 won a person ($5.90). The best part? The owner cooked everything for us and demonstrated the proper way to eat. Here are some pictures from the feast:
How the duck was presented to the table.
This was the perfect bite, according to the owner: A piece of duck atop spicy greens, rolled in a sliced radish and sesame leaf. There was a tangy mustard/vinegar sauce for the duck, and a spicy pepper sauce for dipping.
A look at the second helping of meat and potatoes.
Another way of eating the duck: wrapped in leaf lettuce, with sauteed sprouts, onions and spicy greens.
I went back and forth between wrapping the duck in lettuce, wrapping it with radish slices, and eating it straight from the grill with my chopsticks. If it weren't for the threat of second degree burns, I would've forgone the chopsticks entirely and eaten with my hands. Needless to say, it was some good duck.
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