Local's Lunch

Long weekends and local fare—who could ask for more? Spending it on a sub-tropical island formed by a 2 million year old volcanic eruption is a start.

Jeju island is located several hundred kilometers off the southern tip of Korea and boasts lush forests, beautiful beaches, turquoise waters, pooched, but pretty volcanoes, the tallest mountain in the country, even two Natural World Heritage Sites: Jeju Volcanic Island and Lava Tubes. Situated in the Korea Strait, southwest of Jeollanam-do Province, Jeju-do is Korea's largest island and only special autonomous province.

While wildlife and exotic plant species lurk all over the sprawling peaks of this picturesque island, it's the animals that roam the lowlands and frolic in the azure waters that are worthy of note. Why, you ask? Well, they're the ones that will find their way to my plate.

Operating on a fully orchestrated tour we didn't have the freedom to seek out specific Jeju specialties, however, we were catered to quite nicely. Famous for tangerines, fish, and most especially, black pig, Jeju-do is a pretty decent place to get your eating game on.

Our first encounter with the indigenous cuisine was aptly titled, "The Local's Lunch" on the menu. Mackerel is probably the most common fish around Korea, and it's without a doubt the most budget friendly. Dried, fried, grilled, boiled, stewed, soft, hard, skinned, seasoned...I haven't seen stuffed...mackerel is everywhere and served in every form imaginable. On that day, we were treated to an exceptional feast of fried mackerel, with some boiled octopus and a host of other tasty side dishes. Butterflied and fried whole, what at times can be a dense and meaty fish became light and flaky. Its blue-steel colored skin turned to a golden shimmer, was crisp and popping with salty, delicious flavour. Sided by some chewy but fresh tasting boiled octopus, a jellyfish salad, gosari namul (a type of boiled fern, which I formerly thought to be taro root), seaweed salad, and of course, kimchi.

mmmmmackerel

Some delish fish is all well and good, but when it comes down to it, let's get to the meat! Jeju-do is famous the country over for its breed of local Black Pig (heuk-doe-ji). These small, smooth black-haired bundles of joy came from a unique upbringing with 'bore' their name, aside from just the color of their coif. Until about the 1960s, these pigs were kept almost exclusively as a means to dispose of human waste. Housed in sites built below outdoor lavatories, these are maybe the only animals to ever exclusively eat whatever their owners did--just about 12 hours later. Now fed in a more conventional manner, the richness and unique chewy texture is said to have suffered as a result.

While I am unsure of what our black pigs were served for lunch, they certainly served us well. I was hoping we would indulge in a classic Korean-BBQ style meal for this one so that we could have the untainted, pure grilled experience with this cut of meat, however, what we got wasn't half bad either. Stir-fried and saucy with a sweet gochujang (chili sauce) style marinade, some green onion, fresh garlic, and the late addition of gosari namul (thank god I know what that is now), this swine was pretty divine. I must admit that while the flavour of the meat does deliver a distinctly different depth from most other pork I've eaten the chewiness from the large outer rim of fat wasn't particularly appealing. I'm a man who keeps his fat on his meat at all times. The rich, buttery flavour of most meats is only enhanced through marbling and the melting of all the pervasive juices from the soft fats into the animal as it cooks. This fat, however, made me feel like I was chewing on a rubber band. It unfortunately offered no real flavour and was so unnecessary that I actually began to disassemble fat from meat, part way through the meal. I felt like I was turning my back on a family member.

Taking a pre-cook look

So, that got to me a bit, but overall the meal was delicious. The marinade was punchy and the contrast of the sweet pork and the somewhat spicy sauce was excellent. The best pieces began to caramelize slightly on the bottom of the pan and in the end, our table was left sitting around wondering if we could get more meat, while the rest of the baby-bellied group left to the lavatories. Maybe they were just trying to give back to the restaurants personal pig farm?

K-BBQ, I Heart You

Meat. Meat. Meat.

I hope I don't sound repetitive given my frequent oratories regarding the subject, but, there is so much to be said. The noble and neverending quest for the choicest of carnivorous cuts. To even attempt to overshadow such a simple yet profoundly important mission would be erronious. In constant pursuit for the purposes of personal passion, hunger, satisfaction; if I can lead but one more individual to their perfect bite—for the good of humankind.

If it's a simple carnal necessity to want meat, and more of it, it simply boggles my mind to think that too few know where to accrue it en masse. Sure, meat is everywhere. Your local grocer, the pub down the street, you've probably got a stack of steaks catching freezer burn in your very own home. But, where do the limits of your meat meals lie? Probably, before the limits of your appetite.

Too often I find myself trying to scrape the paint off my own plate for another forkful of food. Longingly eye-fucking the half-eaten tenderloin on the dish across from from me, waiting for my dining partner to throw in the towel so I can scour the remains. While my comportment may appear unbecoming in the minds of those reading this, understand that such seemingly ravenous behavior is carried out with great respect for those who dine with me. Along with such respect comes a great curiosity for what's keeping them from doing and thinking the same way as I do. I'm but a man, with a large appetite that is seldom satisfied until I'm overly satisfied. I do not only eat with the intention of stuffing myself. I eat because it tastes good...hopefully, really, really good. Furthermore, why should I stop if I've not broken through the seal of my belly button? Especially if there's still food in front of me. I am not a large man either, yet, I do not possess a very parsimonious disposition when the chow bell chimes. Sit me alongside your burliest mate and I'll likely eat him under the table.

Back home, believe me, I know where to patronize should I want to indulge in a nearly-never-ending assortment of gastronomical delights. Exercising in mild forms of gluttony is how we all treat ourselves once in a while, however you choose to do it. But, here in Korea, it is all too easy to get carried away. I'm hardly being careless, yet, it's impossible to decline an invite to a good old fashioned Korean BBQ restaurant when it comes your way. It also takes little convincing to corral my crew into accompanying me whenever my cravings kick in.

A tame table by K-BBQ standards & samgyeopsal and pig skin on the grill

There is no prerequisite for a restaurant to claim "All You Can Eat" status when you can fill up your tank with mountains of meat for anywhere from W8,000-20,000 (including beers). Yet, once you toss out the classic, one meat per grill, per order (which is strictly enforced and far different from my K-BBQ experiences back home) and replace it with the glory of an "All You Can Eat" price tag and a fully loaded locker of meat, you know we 'bout to be gettin' after it! Samgyeopsal, and samgyeopsal, and samgyeopsal, and samgyeopsal (translated: bacon strips, and bacon strips, and bacon strips, and bacon strips...)


Samgyeopsal (pork belly: literally translated "three (sam) layered (gyeop) flesh (sal)" for the three visible layers of meat and fat), dweji bulgogi (spicy marinated pork bulgogi), galbi (beef ribs), chadol baki (thin sliced brisket), deungshim gui (beef sirloin), anshim gui (beef tenderloin), dahk galbi (barbeque chicken), intestines of cow, ox, pig, chicken, pig skin, sausages, sausage patties, sauce on, sauce off, grill your own hand and gnaw on it for all I care; when it comes to eating meat 'round these parts, we don't take kindly to those who ain't down for the feast. Once you've grown accustomed to the process and the various intricacies that go along with grilling each cut, there are no limits to what one can accomplish at the dinner table. The grills come in various shapes and sizes, the sides may differ and cooking techniques conflict, but we're really all here for one thing.

Bottom line, if you're feeling like you're life is even marginally incomplete--maybe it's time you got on the meat.

Who needs a hostess when you're greeted with THAT! 

A look inside the mind of a meatatarian 

Just some appies

A beautiful grill of  high quality samgyeopsal, button, oyster and king oyster mushrooms, kimchi, onions and marinated mung bean sprouts

Fish don't cry

Not much time for words, so simply gaze at the glory of an animal that was living but moments ago, that now rests on my plate.

If you've been previously uninformed as to my unrelenting lust, constant cravings, and deeply rooted adoration of raw fish; let it be known, if I could make sashimi my bitch and take it to bed every night, I would! Barring the coastal regions, in which I do not inhabit, all good natured sushi fiends who think they know anything about anything find themselves quibbling constantly with their counterparts as to who's got the freshest fish in town. We've all got our favourites, however, in the end, if you're living in land-lock your sea-fare is never as fresh as it could be.

Korea (Seoul or otherwise), on the other hand, does an exemplary job at ignoring the idea of freeze packing or fast-shipping their fish from the sea to the supermarket. With gargantuan fish markets located all over the country and countless restaurants displaying full tanks of still-breathing-swimming-living fish, mollusks, crustaceans, and holothurians (sea cucumbers, sea urchin, ect.), if you want fresh fish, there's no doubt when you know you've found it.

Having indulged in many of the aforementioned species out here in Korea, for a twisted-minded sushi addict like me, there's nothing quite like watching the slice of a knife through a fishes head, followed by a speedy, yet, supremely precise: clean - gut - fillet - skin - sashimi maneuver. Turning live animal into delicate and delicious slices of sashimi within minutes is an experience I'd always dreamed about, but never realized, until my first trip to the Noryangjin Wholesale Fisheries Market in Seoul in late May; feasting on a whole flounder for a mere W20,000 (under $20), that comfortably fed three, along with some sannakji (live octopus). I recently returned to Busan, Korea's second largest city, on the southern coast of Korea, and had the pleasure of dining on out-the-tank red snapper (W30,000/1.5kg whole fish) at the famed Jagalchi Fish Market.

I'd go into lengthy descriptions of the untainted freshness, the exquisite texture and the altogether alluring appearance, but, if you're one of those "good natured sushi fiends who think they know anything about anything" about raw fish; you know this is as good as it gets!

Freshly beheaded flounder @ Noryangjin Fish Market, Seoul

Flounder sashimi

He may not look so happy, but we said a prayer just before the execution of this tasty red snapper

Fresh red snapper sashimi @ Jagalchi Fish Market, Busan

Close-up Collage

I'm no macro-magician, but I've always been captivated by the ability of others to display so much depth, feel and intricate detail in a limited frame. 

Here are a few of my favourite close-up shots that I've taken in Korea thus far:

High times: Part 1

Another benign week has begun and I'm trying my best to ride out the butt end of another brief few days of jubilant escapism. ...that week began two Mondays ago, and I'm still struggling to catch up with myself. 'Real life' moves along, while 'real good life' is all too infrequent. It seems easiest to think of how little time we are able to spend on the things that mean the most to us, when we are forcibly caught up in the moments we'd rather part with, or avoid entirely. I digress; back to the weekend, of two weekends past.

This 'weekend' took me to the rugged peaks of Mount Seorak (Seoraksan), nearby to the northeastern coastal city of Sokcho. Formerly part of North Korea, up until the end of the Korean War, Sokcho is famous for the majestic mountains of Seorak National Park, stuffed squid, and some wicked good fried chicken. If there's more to the story of Sokcho, these are the more important matters, in my book anyway.

Of course, like every good tale, we begin with an ominous weather report; Saturday calls for 9mm of heavy rain, with a gracious bottom coat of 3-5mm of precipitation beginning Friday night, followed by a 2mm shellacking continuing into Sunday morning, just to seal the deal. Did I mention this was a hiking trip? With soggy expectations we set out to the Seoraksan Tourist Hotel for a restful Friday evening (i.e. only a 6-pack of Cass and a 2:30am E.T.B.). It was the general consensus that we should do our best to ascend as early as possible in hopes of avoiding the most torrential parts of the day (expected to begin in the mid afternoon).

7:00am and we were ordering our $12 bacon and eggs breakfast at a large, unoccupied restaurant at the base of the mountain. I was in a surly mood because after a 4 hour nap, the advertised menu options on my breakfast special were entirely unavailable. In fact, I was shut down more times than the fat, crater-faced, smelly, drunk, moron with a mullet at the senior prom. "No tomato juice." snarks our amiable Korean hostess. I request the apple. Still no go. Orange it is. "Meat?", she inquires. "Sausage, please.". "No. Bacon". "Alright then ma'am, what else shall I be having for my breakfast?" I don't think I said that last part out loud...not that she would have understood me anyways. My over easy eggs came sunny side up,  my hashbrowns consisted of three solum tater tots sprinkled on the plate, I received coffee instead of tea, and it was only the last two items that separated my breakfast special from the $7 bacon and eggs option. Oh, and of course the fact that I had a choice of meat...right...

7:30am The rain had evaded us, at least for the time being. It knew it's presence was not welcome in our company. As I stepped outside into to the fresh dew of the morning and glared up at the jagged brown peaks that towered over us in every direction, my mediocre meal was all but forgotten. To retreat from the concrete swamp that is Seoul and to find yourself in such a place as this, was polarity at its pinnacle. The air tasted sublime and didn't seem to be killing me with every inhale. Wildlife was melodically performing their morning routines. And as we set off on our trail it became apparent that we were to be trekking along a crystal clear, boulder laden river for the duration of our first leg. Too bad the food is shit, or I might never leave this place.

13 kilometers and roughly 4.5 hours into the hike and we've crossed bridges, clambered up steep rock sections and stopped to take far too many pictures. It's hard to resist a photo-op when you're awestruck at the invasive beauty of your surroundings at every eyeshot. We now find ourselves but a few klicks from our original point of departure and the impending precipitation is doing little to discourage the crew from pursuing one more 4-km jaunt up an unimaginably steep forest trail so we may reach a cave with some sort of indentation where spring water flows that's supposed to add a year to your life with every sip. Life tends to follow a pattern whereby enjoyable exploits significantly decrease your life expectancy, so this seemed like a pretty novel idea. This small cave, only about 10 meters deep, also contained a modest Buddhist shrine and a monk on site who I'm pretty sure lived up there, at least for the time being, probably protecting the shrine and waking up to the most unbelievable sights each day from his 1,500m perch. Even when the rain started to pour down and eventually soaked us to the bone, this was well worth the walk. A little cloud cover was hardly enough to damage the staggering views from the peak. After putting in the work, we were without a doubt reaping the rewards, as we were able to to eye-fuck every peak, valley, crack and crossroad in sight. Thanks, also, to a generous gift from a fellow hiker, who stopped us specifically to give us this liquid offering, we made a ceremonial toast to the mountain maidens from a can of fine makgeolli (Korean rice alcohol), likely reversing all positive effects from the spring of life and restoring our livers to their normal laborious life.

As we made our way back to the base we were now sopping, shivering, yet seriously high spirited. A quick stop for a much improved meal of Pa-Jeon (fried Korean pancake with a flour and egg batter, with squid, green onion, peppers and cabbage) and a few soups and it was hard to do much but sit back and sigh.

Safely situated under a tent, filling our empty bellies with warm comforting food, as the weather turned torrential. We'd overcome the elements and emaciated any ill expectations. I suppose it's only when one is apathetic to the option of anything going wrong, that the eventual outcome always sides in ones favour.

Dumpling Daze

Dreary-eyed and in a hot daze on a sweltering Sunday afternoon--It was no Dim Sum, but I did manage to dive into a decent pile of dumplings in Incheon's China Town. Happiness in a bite.

Mid-bake

Loading up

First, some Chinese buns that are stuffed with various fillings (meat and onion, red sesame, squash, among many others that we couldn't translate) and baked, stuck to the sides of a stone oven. The bun itself was excellent; crisp roasted outside with a softer doughy inside, however, the meat could have used some more seasoning to bring up the flavor. My friend got one stuffed with red sesame paste that was much more of a hit. All in all it seemed as though the allure of the process and the hype surrounding the things overshadowed the actual taste, in my opinion. A friend who lives in Incheon said that there's normally a line half-way down the block, and the lady in front of us walked away with about a dozen.

I prefer my doughnuts to be filled with meat

Pan fried pork dumplings

Boiled shrimp dumplings

Our dumpling shop was supposedly the best spot around the area, according to some local research and the advisory of a friend of a friend, who's a chef in Incheon. We had three different kinds: pan fried pork dumplings, boiled shrimp dumplings, and boiled meat dumplings--all living up to expectations and satisfying our cravings. The fresh, handmade, meat-filled, perfectly textured balls of goodness, were accented by several sauces: a garlic and green onion oil, black bean sauce, vinegar, and make-your-own chili sauce of ground chili powder and soy sauce. No, I don't like dumplings at all...

Most tables should include at least one plate of these.