mary eats

March is baby octopus season in Korea.

For me, there is no season in which to indulge in this rubbery eight legged sea creature, because, frankly, octopus is disgusting. It isn’t the final product that is off putting. Mesmerized by sushi conveyer belts, I often find the white slice, with a kiss of purple, visually stimulating. It is in its living state, where the pale gray, mucus orb clings to the side of aquarium walls outside restaurants that turns my stomach and triggers my tounge to pop out of my mouth while exclaiming “blehach.”

I, however-and known to most- am trying to broaden my Korean culinary horizons. So when Kev came across an article in the Korean Times promoting chugg jjoo mi restaurants, I knew my nay saying wouldn’t stand a chance.

Mini-octopi are revered in Korea for their superior flavor. I’m not sure how this is detected under a smothering of kochujeong (red pepper paste). You could cover anything from a shoe to fois gois in this sauce and only taste one thing. Kochujeong-if your taste buds haven’t been singed off.

Samo Jjuggumi, a tiny restaurant hidden in the alleys near Sadaemun station (really, most all Korean restaurant description start off like this) is noted for it’s light hand when it comes to the fiery condiment. The restaurant serves only two dishes, chuggumi-kui, octopus grilled and seasoned with kocujeong (kui means grilled) and chuggumi chongol, a fiery soup with veggies and tofu. We opted for the former.

Yet another experience began with us, the only people in the restaurant, unable to speak Korean and the staff clueless with English. Sign language proceeded and the procession of side dishes began. The grill arrived, a hubcap looking apparatus, and the ajuma bent over yapping away in Korean, I sure saying something like “don’t touch this it’s very hot.” We watched while she flopped pieces of raw octopus onto the grill. The heat caused the meat to shrink and curl up over itself. So, this is what it looks like to have your food cooked alive.

Trying to get over the horror at watching the dead pieces move and wiggle about the grill, we popped bits into our mouths and began to chew. Brows rose, then furrowed. Smiles went into frowns and back into smiles, chewing chewing chewing, about to swallow, no wait, more chewing. Man, the stuff is chewy.

Natural flavor? Couldn’t taste it. But when wrapped in red lettuce leaves smeared with dwangjeong (soy bean paste) it wasn’t bad. Is it something I would greatly anticipate every spring for? Unless each order came with a chocolate Easter bunny, not a chance.