Anger Burger

I’m thinking about writing a best-selling self-help book called “Women Love Vinegar, Men Are Predictable” or something like that, I haven’t really worked out the title yet.  All I know is: most women I know are goofy on vinegar.  And I don’t necessarily mean in that “I’m pregnant and I want to eat a giant pickle” way, though yes, also in that way.  I really just mean: most women I know would be blissed out on finding the sourest, harshest, most enamel-destroying pickled item they could find and I don’t really know why that is.

Enter: Korean food.

Man, I’ve turned into a junkie, and to my own surprise.  My first few experiences with Korean as a teenager were totally disgusting, to put it politely.  I ordered a bibimbap that was basically a cup of rice floating in a gallon of fryer oil (what? I don’t get it either) and my vegetarian friend, after asking three times “Does this have any meat, any fish in it? No?” received a pot of bubbling soup that consisted almost entirely of squid entrails.  And that was the good trip.  It wasn’t really until I moved to Los Angeles that I finally understood Korean food.  PICKLES.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, a quick introduction to Korean food, specifically Korean BBQ:

• Korean is all about the banchan (sometimes spelled panchan) or little dishes of “free” pickled things.  I put the free in quotes because, to be fair, the price of the banchan are included in the price of the rest of your food, which is what sometimes makes Korean food seem a hair pricier than its Chinese or Vietnamese equivalent.  Banchan can be anything from the dreaded (and delicious) kimchi to a suspiciously American-tasting potato salad.  Many places will gladly refill these little dishes, too, so if you have a favorite you can ask for more.

• The BBQ part of the BBQ usually means grilled meat, if that wasn’t already clear.  You do this yourself, in most cases, on a table-top grill.  The naysayers will see this as having to “cook your own food” whereas the connoisseurs will understand that this means you get to eat meat at your own pace and cooked exactly to your liking.  No where else can a person who likes rare beef and a person who likes charred beef sit and eat the same meal side-by-side.

• Any decent Korean BBQ joint should have excellent quality meat – after all, that’s why people go there.  If the meat seems funky or low-grade, get your ass out of there STAT.  Korean BBQ ends up being pretty healthy eating, since you’re cooking meat without a lot (or any) oil and sides of pickles (which are super-healthy and good for digestion).

• If you’re timid or confused, follow my general advice for eating any ethnic food: go when the restaurant is going to be most busy so you’re surrounded by people who are essentially demonstrating exactly how you should eat.  And whatever, you’re an American in America, who cares.

Since the banchan are always made in-house, some places are better than others, and the selection changes by the day.  My local favorite Korean joint, Genwa, busts out a mean banchan.

This is my all-time favorite, a very common banchan called ojingeochae mu chim.  Ha!  I wish I were joking.  Anyway, it just means  “spicy dried squid strips” give or take, which tastes a hell of a lot better than it sounds.  It’s mildly fishy, but the greatest appeal is a dry, chewy texture I can only describe as “squid jerky.”  I want a side of this with every meal.

My other favorite pickles are just whatever fresh, crunchy, vinegary thing is going that day. This one tasted like sesame oil and vinegar, but other than that I don’t know what it was.   By the way, there were twenty of these little white plates of banchan, to give you an idea of the beautiful abundance of this kind of food.

Look, my boobs!

Last night we didn’t want to commit to a lot of BBQ, so we just ordered bibimbap, which is sort of in the category of stir-fried rice, except not.  At it’s most basic component, its just white rice topped with cooked vegetables, meat or seafood (or none at all) and a fried or raw egg.  You mix all this together just before eating.  The really good versions come in a super-heated stone bowl that fries and pops right at the table, so that the bottom of the rice turns chewy and crusty WHICH IS FUCKING AWESOME.  Sorry.  Anyway, bibimbap is the ideal Korean gateway food.  If everything else scares you, just order that and you’ll be happy.  This was plenty for the two of us and costs about $15, so you can see how what can appear on the surface to be overpriced ends up being reasonable.

Ever since this meal the other night I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to make banchan, what we’d call in America a “quick pickle.”  Not kimchi, of course, which requires fermentation, but just vinegar-dressed radish type banchan.

Great, I guess that means I better go stock up on some vinegar.