Shilla Bakery - December 11, 2010

Mochi bread

Posthumously, I was informed of the Korean mochi bread craze that swept through the small island of Taiwan four years after its demise. To be exact, it was only the “craze” that died down, but not the mochi bread itself as it had quietly found a place among the staples on the shelves of Taiwanese bakeries. In a similar vein, another type of chewy bread became fashionable in Japan decades ago (and, for once, I was there to be on it real-time): Pão de Queijo – the cheesy balls from Brazil. The Asians are obsessed with the texture of this type of particular and distinct chewiness, expressed as QQ in Taiwanese or mochi mochi in Japanese. By the way, the Japanese version of mochi bead has existed for a quite while, which seems to differ from the Korean version in the choice of the key ingredient – the QQ or mochi mochi factor: The former primarily uses glutinous rice flour, while the latter tapioca starch.

Son Ja Jang - December 11, 2010

In the cradle of my gustatory development, I was exposed to the venerably spicy beef noodle soup and chewy home-made mien ge dah (dough bits in soup, which in my household, was vigorously kneaded to kingly chewiness, urged on mainly, by little me). Later in my adolescence, I discovered the incredible pho bo (you surely do not need explanation for this, do you?). Therefore, as you can see, somewhere along these lines, I had missed out the ramen bandwagon for good reasons. Yes, I have had ramen – those wash-basin sized bowls filled with grotesquely yellow noodles with that distinct chemical flavor, all crinkly and wavy like an 80’s hairdo. Sure, some were better than others, as in all things, but an average bowl of ramen simply could not compare to an average bowl of beef noodle soup or pho bo. The main problem I have with ramen is the noodles. They are yellow, not because of eggs; they are yellow because of a brine made of potassium carbonate and/or sodium carbonate. Needless to say, this brine has a malodorous taste, which to me, can be described as chewing on a piece of Styrofoam. If you have bitten your coffee cup, you know the taste.

Hence, if someone recommended a ramen place, my curious ear would have remained deaf. However, if the game was for hand-pulled noodles, which seemed to draw in some quite dedicated patrons, then I am in.

Marinated Crab (Ganjang Gejang), Seoul, September 10, 2010

Have you ever heard of the "Drunken Shrimp"? Probably not.  It is a famous Shanghainese dish - yes, I am aware that you have not heard of it if you are based in the U.S. because the Chinese food here is plainly terrible or, terrifying, take your pick - made of raw shrimps dunk in a marinade made of rice wine and soy sauce and whatever other ingredients, the secret of which the chefs would probably kill to protect.  Going along the crustacean family tree, there is also the Drunken Crab.  Being alcohol-intolerant, I was initially concerned that by the end of the meal, there would also be a Drunken Zombie on the floor, but the alcohol mysteriously evaporates during the process so that I can contentedly split a dish of drunken shrimp and another of drunken crabs without an incident.  This was the state of affairs in the world of marinated crabs, that was, until I had come upon Ganjang Gejang.

Soy Milk Noodle (Kongguksu), September 11, 2010

After five weeks in China, my body was yearning for something healthy. Under normal circumstances, kongguksu would not have got a second glance from me; as a matter of fact, it did not get one of the multi-colored flags, which I used to mark the "must-eats" in my Seoul guidebook. However, as I reviewed my plan of attack on the capital of Korea, I found myself re-reading the description of this curious kongguksu. According to my guidebook, the soup was made of soy milk - no meat, fish or vegetables, while the noodle itself was made of whatever kind of flour with, what else, some soy powder - a sheer nightmare for anyone allergic to soy.  Hm...why would anyone want to consume so much soy? I guess it is good for menopause. Is this a preparation for some doomsday scenario where the only edible product left on earth will be soy?  Imagine, rice in rice milk, cheese in yogurt, goat cheese in goat milk... OK, OK, I am stretching it because the noodles are not made solely from soy, but surely you can understand;  the word, "redundant," does not have any positive meaning, does it? Mystery has its appeal:  Ever fallen for that mysterious someone because you just cannot figure out that person?  Fine, I would give it a try.