mary eats

It is hard to approach a dish with an open mind when the service has you so fuming that you consider walking out of a restaurant before you’ve even ordered. And this Chef Rachel Yang, is my concern.

You are a genius. An absolute flavor genius. The way you infuse a Korean sense of balance in to your dishes inspires and delights. Especially to a couple who lived in Seoul for 4 years and ached for a bridge between the popularity of foreign restaurants and the local cuisine. Your wild boar bacon with roasted corn and pickled onions? A masterpiece. As was your short rib egg roll with jicama and mole sauce. Those perfectly tender morsels of short rib dressed with the smoky mole wrapped up like precious jewelry in a silk scarf was dynamite. I don’t even have words to describe the bison hanger steak and a chimichurri sauce except that it was by far one of the best bites I’ve had all year. Expertly cooked, rosy and tender in the middle with a beautifully browned crust dotted with salt and this slices of preserved garlic gets Joule my vote for best steak house (not to mention elevated the status of preserved garlic from bench to starter in my playbook).

 But the service? I’m dumbstruck.

After making a reservation we were given the absolute worst seat in the house, segregated in the very back. All throughout dinner I my gaze was met by the exposed wiring under the reach-in. We brought our own wine, nothing I’d save for an Open That Bottle Night, but we had pre-chilled it at home, here it was mishandled to the point where it sat out for 20 minutes before even getting in an ice bath (if you call filling an bucket with ice then trying to jam the bottle into it an ice bath- i’m thinking ice+water, or put the wine in first, then cover with ice). We sat for 20 minutes unattended to with those sitting well after us having their order taken at least 5 minutes before ours by a more attentive waiter, and after a sweltering wait, my husband had to finally ask a passing server to open out wine- which she did, soundlessly, no excuse, no apology.

As Joule is not white tablecloth, I can’t expect 5 star service. Joule was busy last Friday with a full house and at least one seating turnover while we were there. I’d like to think it was an off night. Perhaps your staff was stressed, or disorganized, or some other excuse that is logical to someone who works in the industry, but their complete lack of customer awareness had me seething. Rachael, your food is one of the most standout in our city, please inspire you servers to carry your passion for excellence into their service.

I greatly look forward to my next visit to Joule, this time though, I’m sitting at the counter.

All week Kevin had a hankering for kimbap, and lucky him, his weekly soccer game had us headed up north of Seattle to Lynnwood. Our destination, Sorabol, received nice- and I mean that in all the obnoxious of the word nice- reviews on local message boards, but nothing prepared us for the gem we stumbled upon.

Kevin ordered mul naeng myun, I, ddok mondu guk.. Kevin asks for kimbap, but is denied. We both know that kimbap is a lunch thing, as we have tried near every time we eat out to order it, and every time we are met with the same reply. “Sooorrrry.”

But this time is our lucky night out, as we began to dig in to our banchan, the head ajuma emerges from the kitchen, pink rubber glove clad (gloves are the rule in Washington state), carrying a plate of sogogi kimbap. (Fate would not be on Kevin’s side for his soccer game).

The banchan was our tip off. Bright, crisp tender florets of broccoli were lightly dressed in vinegar, potato shoestrings danced in a light cream dressing, jelly fish ribbons swollen with soy and sesame oil. This wasn’t your average banchan, served from prepackaged bags. Nope. This was food beaming with passion. These small side dishes demonstrated the chef’s creativity and technique, and we gobbled up near every piece.

Pulling house brined pickle spears from his soup, Kevin was near speechless. Gingerly balancing one between his chopsticks he passed one across the table and offered it to me. “Isn’t that amazing.” He asked, grinning. And it was. His mul naeng myun was hands down the best I’ve had, anywhere.

My ddokmandu guk, was a little bland, as is the nature of the soup (seeing how chili, deonjang, or any other fermented kick is absent from this recipe), but splitting into a dumpling, a host of finely diced fresh vegetables cascaded out. Aside from Gyro- an Insadong restaurant specializing in North Korean dumplings in Insadong, Seoul, I’ve never had dumplings that truly tasted of a handed down recipe.

I love Korean food for many reasons, but first and foremost are the assertive flavors, but Thursday night I was blown away at the subtle nuances this family used to woo me. It is absolutely the same is going to pick up your date and falling for her little sister; same family, just something different. I’m sure there were tons of restaurants in Seoul that could have had me at hello; I just appear to have missed them. Now I’m going steady with Sorabol.

Saturday morning I trekked all the way to Lynnwood to stock up on Korean goodies at Paldo World, affectionately known as “North Korea”. The Korean communities of Seattle lie just to the north (lynwood) and the south (lakewood) hence the nick names.

I ran across this

Raspberry flavored noodles for Bi Bim Naeng Myeon. I don’t know. What do you think? Would you eat it?

In other Korean eating news Matt Gross, the New York Times writer who contacted me about where to eat in Korea published his article in the travel section of the Times this week. His portrait of Seoul is charming and absolutely sent me nostalgic for evenings under the orange tents sipping on soju and eating ddokboggie. Sigh.

Is in ISSAQUAH! Hello! The town that is famous for little more than producing one of the greatest indie bands, Modest Mouse, is also home to some very fine ddokboggie.

Perfection in ddokboggie is twofold. First the ddok. It must be cooked al dente. Not too hard, not too soft. I’m not a fan of the ajumas who plop down a plate of non-pliable ddok drowning in a watery red broth. I like it chewy, right away, only to get softer as my polishing off every last toothsome bite is in progress.

Then there is the sauce. A matter of personal taste I guess. I prefer sauce with the thickness of the tomato sauce in a can of spaghetti-o’s. A gentle weight in the mouth, a nappe any chef would appreciate, with the right balance of heat, sweet, and savory.

People, I am giving you my word. This stuff is it!

Sa-Rang Chae
20 Front Street
Issaquah, WA
(425) 427-6880

Somehow I managed to get out of Korea with out ever trying Jok bal, or pig’s feet braised in soy sauce, on purpose.

The mosaic of lean meat, congealed fat, skin and dark meat, sliced thin on the bias led my stomach into a repetitious flip-flop, each time Kevin passed the strip of trotter restaurants near the Shilla on our way back from Dongdaemoon Market. Looking more like a deformed animal fetus doomed to a formaldehyde filled mason jar on a high school Biology teacher’s shelf, I never regretted not trying it, until, of course, now.

“I wanna eat something crazy,” my friend remarked as we looked over the menu at HoSoonYi in Edmonds. Soondubu, delicious, yes but crazy? No. Dwachigalbi, delicious yes, but again, crazy? No. Jok bal. Delicious? Couldn’t tell you, but crazy. Indeed, feet people. Feet.

I would like to add that the jok bal was listed on the menu under the header, “Sides for Hard Drinkers.” Such am I, drinking soju at 2 in the afternoon on a Thursday.

When the word passed my lips, our server, a petite middle-aged woman looked up in surprise, eyebrows arched near up to her hairline.
“Really?” “You want jokbal,”
“Yeah,” I replied sheepishly, “Soju too.”
“I like you” she snickered as she pointed her pen at me. At least, I thought, if I didn’t like it, I had earned some street cred with the Edmonds ajumas.

As it always does, it food began to arrive in a flood. First the banchan: baechu kimchi, then a more fresh cabbage kimchi, bean sprouts, one with the gochu-maru treatment one without, soy braised hotdog of the sea (odang), pickled mu, acorn jelly and roasted potatoes.

Then jok bal presented itself with the kimchi soondubu jjigae (not the best I’ve tried- that accolade still goes to Blue Ginger in Bellevue). My friend and I looked at each other, the jok bal, and the pink, fermented shrimp dipping sauce and dug in.

Sadly I have to report, the jok bal was cold. And the flavors I expected, soy, ginger, anise, but instead the gelatinous slices tasted pleasantly gamey with a slight commercially produced air. While we didn’t wolf it down (the same went for the dwachi galib which was under seasoned and bland) I snagged up the leftovers and am hoping to produce charcuterie greatness in the from of a jok bal sandwich for lunch today. What a little mayo can’t do.

I’m interested in trying jok bal again. If anyone has any NW suggestions for such please pass them on. If you want to see jok bal culture in Seoul, check out this video by Soul Glow.

The Food Court at Uwajimaya Village is a frenzied place. The narrow alley of restaurants and bakery storefronts faces off against the ever bustling deli counter of the Asian Grocery Giant. Sticky crisp duck hang in a warmer as seasoned Deli vets bark out order numbers, “41?”, “41?”, “41!” Separated only by a stream of awkward tables, which patrons begrudgingly share family style, sits  Korean BBQ, a quick Korean take out, as close as I can get to my beloved Kim Bap Chung Guk.

As I pour over the menu, a English friendly descriptions and photos, sans Hangul, I over hear a high school student breakdown kimchi with the same enthusiasm Actor Ben Stine repeatedly calls out “Bueller, Bueller, Bueller,” in Ferris Bueller’s day off. “Uh, it’s like cabbage, that is like, uh, fermented, with, uh, chilies.” In fairness to this young lad, I bet he gets asked this question 20 times a day, I’ll put money on the fact the he can probably spot out who will and won’t choose the fiery condiment over a bland hospital-esque salad of iceberg lettuce sprinkled with tinned sweet corn.

Kevin’s aching throat called out for kimchi jjigae, and me, the bulgogi sandwich. Here marinated slices of beef are sautéed up with onions and nestled in a soft French roll with tomato slices, iceberg leaves, blanketed with a slice of sliced processed American cheese. Heaven.

The kimchi jjigae, arrived without rice, but was chock full of sliced pork, chewy rice cakes, tender kimchi, and tofu cubes. Less pungent than those tried in Seoul, this version played a more sweet, salty, spicy almost akin to a Thai coconut chicken soup.

Prices are easy, most hovering around the $6.95 mark. But don’t expect stone pots here, everything, rather, is served in plastic to go containers; gochujang is served on the side for a quarter, as is gim, seasoned seaweed, 95 cents. On the plus side, all dishes are cooked to order.

I have gotten a slew of emails lately and while I’ve done my best to answer them, please add your 2 cents.

Anytime mints are a curious candy, once you have a taste for the vanilla mint, no other will ever do. Sadly I could not find an online source for Anytime mints. I did, however, find them at my local Korean Grocery Chain Pal-Do World. If you have a hankering for these I suggest contacting your local Korean grocery and begging, or try calling Pal-do and ask to special order a case. Those of you reading in Korea could stand to make a mint here. Ba-dam ba! I really didn’t intend for that pun, but seriously, you could start an export business out of your apartment.

Calories in Ddok. One of my favorite friends back in Seoul recently emailed me asking, no doubt dreading the answer, if there were a ton of calories in ddok. The sad answer? YES. Though I love ddokboggie and ddokgochi, and ddok guk, the long slender fingers of processed rice cakes are just about as bad for you as a bag of chips. Of course I have no hard-core evidence to back this up, but I vaguely remember reading a JoongAng Daily article about unhealthy snacks and sitting pretty next to a big mac was a bowl of ddokboggie.

Street Food in Seoul.
Recently I got an email from a reader about to visit the land of the morning calm on a stop over asking for suggestions on where to eat Street Food. You can’t throw a rock without hitting a pojangmacha, but some high concentrated areas for grazing include Dongdaemoon market, Myeongdong shopping area, and around Yongsan Station.

Korean Style Fried Chicken in Seattle
The NY Times article, featuring fantastic Korean foodie Zen Kimchi, has sparked interested in Korean Fried Chicken. Recently I was asked where to find this in Seattle, and here is what I could find. Imo’s in Pioneer Square does a Cornish game hen treated to a Korean style fry, and, according to ChowHound.com, a little place in Federal Way, past Federal Way Discount Guns. If you know of a place anywhere in the I-5 Corridor, let me know.

Finally beloved, who muses at belovedbabbling, is asking for Korean restaurants in the Downtown Seattle vicinity. Sadly, I am not an expert here. I know of The Shilla, possible one of Seattle’s oldest Korean restaurants, however I cannot attest to the quality of the food. Then there is Shilla Korean BBQ, a small Kimbap Nara-ish joint in the Uwajimaya food court. Any Suggestions?