The first feat is getting fed

Originally composed on: Day 3: April 20, 2012: KTL Commuter Train en route to Shah Alam, Malaysia.

Indulging in those things that bring one great joy, under normal circumstances, is exponentially heightened when done in new and interesting settings. Yoni (one of my closest friends and former expat travel companion in Korea) arrived two nights ago and it's been a pleasure to catch up with an old friend after so long. Despite our collective indecisiveness, especially when it comes to our food choices, we are always guaranteed to eat well--and eat lots! Yesterday was no exception.

The meager breakfast I ate at the hostel, while Yoni caught up on some sleep, forged a furious hunger as midday approached. Given our close proximity to Chinatown and the prominent Chinese influence on the Malaysian food culture, venturing towards there for lunch was not a difficult decision. On our constant search for street foods, local staples and unknown culinary concoctions, we shunned several simple looking food vendors and restaurants. A Lonely Planet derived hunt for a local food court proved fruitless. Yet, in the end, alluring aromas of cooked chilies and curries forced us (ever so willingly) into a busy hawker centre off of a crowded back alley.

Squeezing past sunglasses stands and singlet vendors we arrived in a brightly lit open court and the glory that turned out to be the Tang City Food Court. Tables tightly packed into the centre. A ring of small kitchenettes and cutting boards. Large menu boards, mostly in Chinese characters with some photo's thrown in for good measure. And a cacophony of bowls clinking, chopsticks picking, proprietors shouting orders and general chatter filled one's ears. The scents were tantalizing, my mouth was watering, my stomach was hollering.

Yoni made a quick-time decision and ordered a curry noodle bowl with chicken and coconut milk. It was sweet and mellow with clams, slicked pork, tangy pickled sprouts and a splash of key lime.

After settling for what turned out to be a delicious, yet decidedly unadventurous, plate of satay chicken and beef from the hostel the previous night, as my first "real" meal back in Asia, I knew I had to do it up proper! Requirements included: spice, soup, noodles and something I'd never seen before.

Along came Ma La Ban Mee: a bowl of bright, steaming auburn broth, minced pork, fried fish, shitake mushrooms, green onion, fish balls, bean curd and a heap of fresh handmade noodles. The noodles had a perfectly chewy, dumpling-esque texture. The minced pork was sweet and soft; combined with the salty crunch of the tiny fried fish, they balanced out the spicy edge of the molten broth. Though outside temperature was already forcing the sweat to bead off my forehead, this fiercely delicious bowl of broth  made my melon as moist as the soup in the bowl. Everyone loves a good sweat in the morning!

I'd been lusting for this meal for what seemed like a lifetime. This was perhaps one of the most wholly satisfying, simple, but superbly fantastic things I'd ever ingested!

The setup and the standards are now high. There is no doubt, however, that this meal will be matched many times over the next few months. Let the never-ending food crawl continue!!

Every dog has his day

It was inevitably going to happen...

It was more so a question of when and with who, then if or ever. It's one of those things that you can't think too much into or it could get the better of you. I've never been one to agonize over where my food comes from, but then again, I've never played fetch with a cow or a chicken before. In the end, the way I see it, is that as long as an animal is bred to be slaughtered and served up on my plate then then there's a good chance I'll enjoy eating it.

My buddies and I have recently become friends with a class-act Korean guy named James. 35-years old, 5'8'' with a medium build, jet black hair that flops over his forehead, glasses and a beaming smile constantly plastered on his face. A relentless worker in the finance industry and the kind of gentleman that fancies a few soju's at the end of a long day; James is the epitome of the work hard play hard culture that is rampant among Korean businessmen. Here is Korea, it isn't uncommon to hear of someone working well into the night, or even sleeping for several days at a time in the office. Their system of personal reward comes to fruition in the wee hours of the night as you see heaps of staggering men in suits and ties, holding-up one another, hoping to evade an almost certain nosedive into the sea of concrete below their stumbling feet. Now, my good friend James is not to be dumped into such an abhor'ish category of individuals, however, if you're going for a night out with James the word "No" should be promptly removed from your lexicon.

James, leading us down the dark path to goodness

As my mission in this country and the rules associated with it (see March 28 blog) wouldn't have allowed me to pass up this meal, even if I wanted to, when James asked my friends and I if we wanted to go eat some Gaegogi (dog meat) with him, I was encouraged to know that the infamous Korean delicacy--the original health food in this country, was still being consumed by regular folk. Before coming to this country I could not count the amount of times that friends and family members asked me whether I would delve into this dish. Coming from a culture that has an often unhealthy obsession with their pets, it's incredibly hard for people to think of anyone putting a pup on their plate, much less enjoying it. Being a dog lover myself, those were not the thoughts running through my mind while eating this meal; this was just another animal bred for my belly and one more opportunity for me to indulge in a culinary tradition that is synonymous with Korea--at least from a foreigners perspective. 

It wasn't until 3pm yesterday when I got the news from Nolan. "James dinner is on!!! Woof woof!!!". Still four long hours until quitting time, the tail end of my day was frantic and full of excitement. I'd already managed to nock off one of the famously frightening Korean meals in sannakji (live octopus) but this one seemed to be just that much more 'out there'. We met up on the soggy streets of Myeong-dong at 8pm, an area of town famous for it's shopping, and as far as I knew, nothing else. As we herded ourselves through the whopping crowds of people, down tiny boutique-laden arteries, James' head darted back and forth in search of our spot. It was only fitting that this restaurant was tucked down a dingy, dark, back alley that no one would be able to find unless you'd been taken there before--this was how I'd always imagined it would be.

As I stepped down into the hole-in-the-wall establishment the initial aromas that caught my nose were unidentifiable and less than tantalizing. I had basically only heard of people eating dog soup, and so I figured that's what the evenings menu called for, however, the other two tables seated at our tiny 8 pad restau had large wood cutting boards piled with dark brown meat an some sort of leafy green. James raised his eyebrows at me with a smirk when I asked him if that's what was on the way to our table.

Do ma gogi

A healthy looking table. 

Do ma gogi (do ma being the wood cutting board) is one of the two ways that James said he's enjoyed his gaegogi before. The meat is also called Su yuk (yuk being the Chinese character for meat) and what lay in front of us were cuts taken from around the neck, belly and the loins. The do ma gogi, which is boiled for dog knows how many hours, is a dark brown colour with a considerable fat content that imparts remarkable tenderness and richness to the meat. Garnished simply with a sprinkling of sesame seeds, the closest I can come to comparing it to to other meats is lamb shank or beef knuckle. The fat is soft and full of flavour and the meat is as tender as meat can be with remarkable depth, especially considering it is a boiled meat with little seasoning. Needless to say, I'm really enjoying this so far. Eaten alongside steamed green parilla (ggaek ip pronounced gean-nip), an herb known for its medicinal properties, on which I can not elaborate, and most closely resembles mint springs and whose leaves taste more like a mild sesame leaf with the stems like subtle broccoli. The do ma gogi is paired with a few pieces of the green and dipped into a sauce containing chili sauce, minced garlic, sesame oil and parilla seeds (egoma) to which white vinegar and spicy dijon style mustard can be added if desired. We also got the good fortune of trying dog meat soup, bo shin tang (literally meaning "soup for health") which was one of the highlights of the meal. Not far off from a beef broth with tomato, green onion and parilla, the soup was extraordinarily well balanced with the falvour of sweet meat and subtle spice. 

As James was describing to me, before kimchi became the most revered food in the land, gaegogi was the original Korean health food. Praised the country over for boosting stamina and making you "taste better"...if you know what I mean (if not don't ask)...dog meat was far more commonplace a mere 20 or 30 years ago then it is now. After wolfing down two platters of do ma gogi and several bowls of soup I wonder why its lost so much popularity amongst the more squeamish younger generation--then I think about exactly what it is that I'm eating. 

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Foot in mouth disease

I've got a disease, and it can only be cured with more spicy, saucy, steamy piles of 4:00am chicken feet and a bottle of W7,000 wine from a convenience store.

I find it funny that the only toes I will ever suck on in my life are ones of an animal that prances around all day in a pile of dirt and their own fecal matter--go figure. 

There's something supremely special about a couple of old pals sharing in a late night foot feast. Joe was in tears from the spice and I was in tears from laughing at him and his weak tastebuds.