Arirang (아리랑)

This evening, I had the some of the most wonderful Korean cooking I have ever tasted. Bearing in mind that my ideal food is made by someone's grandmother from the Old Country, the food at Arirang, in the Auburndale neighborhood of Flushing, must be what it's like to have someone's Korean grandmother cook for you. (Korean mothers have cooked for me, so I'm extrapolating – but not too much.)

The menu is small, and word is that everything on it is good. The two dishes we tried were great. They are especially well known for their dak kalguksu (닭칼국수 - knife-cut noodles in chicken soup, or... chicken noodle soup), and with good reason. The noodles are palpably homemade, as is the soup: small chunks of chicken in a rich, yet light broth. As close to perfection as I can imagine such a dish to be.

Although we didn't order the other noodle specialty of the house, su jae bi (수제비 - hand-torn noodles), luckily a few su jae bi bits tend to end up in the bowl with the kalguksu noodles. The slightly chewy patches of flat dough make a fun contrast.

The other dish on the table was equally outstanding. It's not even translated into English on the menu, so you need to know to ask for andong jjimdak (안동찜닭), or stewed chicken Andong style. It’s also rich, but not heavy, a bit sweet, a bit spicy - chicken pieces stewed with oyster sauce, soy sauce, jap chae clear noodles, chili pepper, garlic, potato, scallion, cucumber, carrot, sesame, and other goodies (as if all that isn’t enough). The wall menu says it feeds 2-3, but it can easily feed 4-5, especially if there’s a bowl or three of kalguksu on the table. Well worth the 32 bucks.

(This dish isn't actually too difficult to make if you have access to a decent Asian market, and there's an excellent recipe for it on the wonderful Maangchi.com.)

Aside from this and the noodles dishes, the only other type of food on the menu is pa jeon (해물파전 - haemul pajeon), a large, fried seafood and scallion pancake. Word on the street is that it’s great, too. I look forward to trying it next time.

Go early. On a Friday night, they were closing up by 9:30.

This is just the kind of home-style cooking that makes me very, very happy.

Arirang
41-04 163rd St., Flushing  11358
718-321-0185
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, then take the Q13 or Q 28 bus to 162nd St. It's a few doors south of Northern Blvd. on 163rd St.)

Gui-Rock Korean BBQ (구이락)

When warm weather hits - and it was in the 80's here in Texas today - so does my craving for mul naeng myun (물냉면). I decided to try a Korean restaurant that somehow looked promising, and I'm very glad I did.

Shortly after ordering, the manager brought over a delicious amuse-gueule of ever-so-lightly breaded fried fish slices... a delightful portent of what was to come.

The naeng myun was excellent, although one might argue that it's a little hard to screw up. Still, quality fresh ingredients always make a difference, and this naeng myun was as good as any I've ever had. Fine buckwheat noodles in an ice-cold beef broth, with slices of beef, cucumber, daikon radish, and half a hard-boiled egg. Add a bit of mustard and a dash of vinegar and you have hot weather nirvana.

But what was really extraordinary here was the array of banchan. I don't think I've ever had such good banchan anywhere (okay, I've never been to Korea). Every Korean restaurant worth its salt makes all their banchan in-house, and this is most definitely no exception. The cabbage kimchi (top right) was among the tastiest I've had - full, well-rounded flavor, rather than the overly vinegary kimchi one so often gets. The sliced fish cake (top left) was almost light and palpably fresh. The almost-standard potato salad was creamy and - once again - almost light. A sort of seaweed salad (inside 11 o'clock) was delightful, as was the dish above it, pea pods pickled with hot red pepper - a new one to me, and one I'd like to have again very soon.

Prices are reasonable, although if specific numbers are important to you, you might double-check prices with your waiter. The menu I was handed listed the price of mul naeng myun as $4.00 (!)... when they brought out that beautiful spread you see above, I was prepared to pronounce this just about the greatest food bargain I'd ever found. But when the check came, the price was a closer-to-normal $8.95.

Since this place does call itself a BBQ, I should probably mention that the barbecue at the other tables looked fine, if not life-changing. But in order to be life-changing, they would have to have wood embers over which to do the barbecuing, which they do not.

Gui-Rock Korean BBQ (구이락)
2625 Old Denton Rd., Carrollton, TX 75007
972-242-1717
website

New York Han Du (CLOSED)

Next door to my beloved Spicy Road is a space that is now home to its third restaurant in as many years. The short-lived Deyi Peking Duck House is now the much-more-satisfying-in-every-way New York Han Du.

New York Han Du is a Korean-style barbecue buffet run by northern Chinese. I haven't figured out, and forgot to ask, if it's a Yanbian establishment, but I suspect not. Their food, in any event, is excellent. A good selection of meats, seafood, chicken, and organ meat (sliced kidney, anyone?) is on hand, both marinated and fresh, spicy and non-spicy. The side offerings are minimal, but it hardly matters: the barbecue items hold center stage effortlessly.

And with the addition of the galbi (갈비):

Comparison with Picnic Garden, the best-known (only other?) Korean barbecue buffet in Flushing is inevitable: I find New York Han Du's quality a notch or two superior. And there is the added advantage here that the pleasant, attentive, and skilled wait staff tend your barbecue for you. For the time being, they are running a 20% off special at dinner - at the moment the price is $19.99 a person (regularly $24.99).

New York Han Du
43-18A Main St., Flushing 11355
718-539-3061
(7 train to Main St.-Flushing, then 9 blocks south on Main St.)

Hahm Ji Bach (함지박)

This evening I joined Pete and his charming friend Youlim for a meal at Hahm Ji Bach (함지박), just a stone's throw from the Murray Hill LIRR station in Flushing. I'm glad I did; it's the best Korean meal I've had in a very long time – maybe ever.

Hahm Ji Bach specializes in meat dishes, barbecue in particular. So, following our waitress's excellent suggestions, we ordered four barbecue items, plus a pa jeon to start. Somehow, a seafood bibimbap got ordered, too...because we just didn't have quite enough food for the three of us, I'm sure.

A stunning array of banchan instantly appeared, all beautifully prepared (made in-house, of course). (Photos by Pete)


There were several kinds of kimchi, including a particularly nice one made with thin slices of the knobby stem of a mustard plant, the kind from which the Chinese make their preserved vegetable. Curiously absent was the normal fermented kimchi made with white cabbage...I didn't miss it one bit. There were a couple of seafood banchan, too, including chunks of crab in red pepper, and bits of deep-fried squid. The haemool pajeon (해물파전 – seafood pancake) was, for me the perfect combination of crisp on the outside and just chewy and moist enough on the inside – the best I've had in a long time. And the dipping sauce – indeed, all the dipping sauces here – was particularly delicious.

There is almost always something slightly disappointing to me about Korean barbecue. It never seems to quite satisfy, or live up to the hype, or something. Such was not the case here. Dol samgyupsal (돌삼겹살), thick slabs of unmarinated pork belly, is something of a house specialty.


It was delicious, as much for the meat itself, carefully tended by the amazingly attentive wait staff, as the wonderful condiments and side items. Hahm Ji Bach is one of the rare establishments that offers ultra-thin, circular slices of daikon radish to wrap and eat barbecued meats with, and it's the perfect way to eat samgyupsal. That is, with some of one of the excellent dipping sauces and some shredded scallion. Hyomit gui (혀밑구 이) – delicate, thin slices of beef tongue (also unmarinated) – was perfection when simply dipped in gireumjang (기름장), a sauce of sesame oil and salt. Galbi gui (or, more specifically, yang nyum galbi gui –양념갈비구이) is the best galbi I've had anywhere.


Aside from the usual sugar and soy sauce, I’m not sure what's in the marinade, but I suspect one of the ingredients is crack. The wait staff saw to it that the pieces were perfectly cooked, and the wonderful house-made ssamjang (쌈장 - spicy bean paste) is the perfect sauce for dipping, before wrapping it in a frilly lettuce leaf and popping it in ones mouth. (Bliss ensues.)

We saw ori rohsu gui (오리로스구이) – dark-ish discs of some meat of indeterminate origin – at a neighboring table and inquired as to what it was. Upon learning it was duck, we decided to order that, too.


An excellent decision. Although unmarinated, the meat was tender and flavorful, and a delightful change of pace. The only way any of it could have been improved would have been by grilling over wood embers instead of on gas grills. (Is there any Korean barbecue in Flushing that uses wood embers? Yanbian, yes, but I don't know of any Korean places.)

Somewhere amidst this avalanche of food, the haemul dolsot (해물돌솥 – seafood mixed with rice in a hot stone pot) surreptitiously appeared. It was fine, although a bit difficult to appreciate amidst all the barbecued meat. A simple, lovely beef and cabbage soup was also brought as something to sip between courses. To help wash this all down was a cucumber-infused soju. Quite mellow and smooth – my new favorite soju. And capping off this mammoth repast was a cup of pumpkin sikhye (식혜), a punch made with fermented rice. Not the kind of thing I normally like, but it was surprisingly light and refreshing. And at that point, we definitely needed some "refreshing"!

Satisfaction comes at a price, however. The barbecue dishes are on the expensive side. But - and I almost never feel this way about Korean barbecue - considering the high quality of the ingredients and marvelous attention to preparation, it's absolutely worth it. The prepared main dishes, on the other hand, are quite reasonably priced—in line with, or even a dollar or two less than, other Korean restaurants in Queens.

Hahm Ji Bach (함지박)
41-08 149 Pl., Flushing 11355
718-460-9289
(LIRR Port Washington branch to Murray Hill, or 7 train to Flushing-Main St., then the Q15 or Q15A bus to 150 St. (Murray Hill LIRR station). Then 1 block south on 149th Pl.)
website

Sol Hyang Gee (솔향기)

After reading about it several weeks ago, I finally rounded up enough people this evening – or more accurately, Audrey Lo rounded up enough people – to make a trip to Sol Hyang Gee worthwhile. And worthwhile it definitely was.

Sol Hyang Gee is yet another Yanbian restaurant on the Flushing eating scene, but this one offers something special. If you’re reading this, you’re probably familiar with Korean barbecue. This place does table-top barbecuing of skewers over... wait for it... wood embers! The number of Korean barbecue restaurants that use wood embers has been steadily dwindling over the years (I can think of only a couple of others that still do). Most never had them in the first place, and the handful that did have been little by little changing over to the boring gas grills. Sol Hyang Gee sets itself apart from the rest right out of the gate.

Order from a huge selection of skewers – some 25 varieties, including lamb, mutton, pork, beef, various offal, fish, and seafood. Most arrive at the table raw, but some have been partially pre-cooked in the kitchen to be finished at the table. The surprise hit of the evening was mutton. We weren’t quite sure what to expect from what is essentially old lamb, but it grilled up tender and flavorful, perfectly complemented by the salt-and-pepper cumin mixture provided for dipping. The lamb arrived partially cooked, with a nice vinegar and honey glaze. The pork intestine was really lovely – small rounds that crisp up nicely with a bit of char, but stay meltingly tender. The only dud was, oddly, the short ribs. Also pre-cooked with a glaze, the miniscule pieces were as much cartilage as meat – annoying to eat, and, in the end, unsatisfying. And at twice the price of everything else we ordered, definitely not worth the cost. Also note that each variety of skewer lists "number of pieces": one piece equals one small skewer, not the number of chunks on one skewer. Most varieties work out to about $1.20 per skewer.

We also ordered the "house special sizzling bean curd" (鐵板豆腐 – tiě bǎn dòu fǔ, or iron slab tofu), and it was fantastic: squares of very lightly breaded tofu on a bed of sweet sliced onions on a sizzling iron plate, with a beautiful dipping sauce on the side. If you like tofu at all, get it.

Most of the Yanbian places I’ve been to in Flushing feel somehow more Chinese than Korean (and Yanbian is in China, after all), but Sol Hyang Gee feels more Korean. However, the delightful banchan are Yanbian all the way: bean sprout salad, a shredded daikon kimchi with the typical Yanbian flavor balance of a bit of spicy coupled with more than a bit of sweet and vinegary, bamboo shoots with jalapeño peppers (this was not nearly as flavorful as Feng Mao’s version), and boiled peanuts.

If you go, know that their awning says "Sol Hyang Lee". It’s a typo – you’ve found the right place!

Sol Hyang Gee (솔향기)
136-73 41st Ave., Flushing 11355
718-353-8160
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., walk 2 blocks south on Main, then left on 41st Ave.)

Feng Mao

Korean-Chinese restaurants – that is, restaurants serving cuisine of the Chinese immigrants in Korea – such as Hyo Dong Gak have been around New York for decades. I remember eating at one on Manhattan’s W. 32nd St. in the early ‘80’s… I wish I could remember the name of it (their jja jang myun was particularly hearty and comforting, with chunks of potato in addition to the usual ingredients - still perhaps my favorite version ever). But the Chinese-Korean restaurant (by which I mean food of Koreans living in China) is a relatively new phenomenon in New York. They started popping up in Flushing just a year or two ago, and now there are perhaps 5 or 6 of them, plus the stalls in the New World Mall food court. Two of them face each other on 41st Ave.: RiFu has been around a while, and Feng Mao (丰茂飯店 - fēng mào fàn diàn, or, roughly, "luxuriant abundance" restaurant) opened very recently in the space that used to be the late, lamented A Fan Ti. (There is a third just a door or two west of RiFu.)

Yanbian, the Korean autonomous prefecture in Jilin province of northeastern China, is the epicenter of this style of cooking. And it seems that there must be some sort of traditional association in that area with the phrase "fēng mào" (丰茂), as a Chowhound post reveals there is a restaurant in Los Angeles of the same name with proprietors from - you guessed it - Jilin province. It makes perfect sense that there are a lot of Koreans there – it shares a border with North Korea – and their cuisine has obvious characteristics of both countries. With Koreans, you always get banchan, those small dishes that precede and accompany the meal. Last night at Feng Mao, we were given four: salted roasted peanuts, a not-particularly-spicy kimchi of daikon radish shreds and red pepper, thin strips of seaweed with a bit of vinegar and red pepper, and a particularly nice combination of bamboo shoot and jalapeño pepper in a slightly sweet, vinegary sauce. (Photos courtesy of Pete Cuce)


We ordered entirely too much food for four people – six dishes in all (a seventh appeared halfway through the meal, compliments of the house) – and there was hardly an unsuccessful one among them, although the “cold noodles” (冷面 – lěng miàn, which turned out to be naeng myun, or buckwheat noodles in a cold spicy broth) were rather mushy.


“Lao gan ma spicy spare ribs” was a winner. Its name in Chinese is rather long –老干妈铁板香辣小排骨 (lǎo gān mā tiě bǎn xiāng là xiǎo pái gǔ) – and presents a bit of a puzzle for the non-native. Tiě bǎn means “iron plate”, and sure enough, it arrives sizzling on an iron plate. Xiǎo pái gǔ means “small spare ribs”, and small they are, hacked into bite-sized pieces. Là is “spicy”, xiāng, savory or fragrant... so far, so good. But lǎo gān mā? I’ve seen this translated as “old grandma” (although gān means “dry”, implying a shade of meaning I think I’d prefer not to contemplate for too long)... whose dried-up old grandma are these spare ribs named after, anyway? Then I read that Lao Gan Ma is a famous brand of chili paste in China – I’m guessing it’s one of the ingredients. At any rate, the dish is quite tasty, although working around the bone shards can get on ones nerves. (Ed. I've since learned, through the magic of Twitter, that gān mā refers to a sort of adoptive mother figure, rather like a godmother.)


Probably my favorite dish on the table goes by the unassuming name of “sautéed chicken” on the menu, although its Chinese name, nóng fū chǎo jī (农夫炒鸡), means farmer, or peasant, sautéed chicken, making it sound instantly much more like my kind of dish. What arrived was something of a cross between a stew and a stir-fry of small hacked-up pieces of chicken (with bone, so once again, watch out for shards), black mushrooms, green and red bell peppers, and large rounds of potato in a light brown sauce. Delicious, and at 12 bucks, it was the best deal on the table.


The most unusual thing we got was “fried popcorn in egg yolk sauce”(蛋黃玉米粒 – dàn huáng yù mǐ lì). Not quite correctly translated, since the “popcorn” turned out to be just “corn”, but it was still unusual: kernels of corn coated in egg yolk and stir-fried until dry and separate. But not too dry – the corn kernels still retained just enough of their juiciness, and the overall effect was oddly lovely. Definitely worth a try.


The rest of the dishes kept reminding me of others in the area. Their cumin beef (孜然牛肉 – zī rán niú ròu) is quite similar to M & T’s “Qingdao spicy meat”, with a spice combination veering a bit toward that of Fu Run’s muslim lamb chops. Very nice, but at 5 bucks cheaper, I think I’ll head to M & T when I get the craving, even if theirs is pork, not beef. (Click on the photo - the small version below does not do it justice.)


And the “dried tofu with seafood” (八珍豆腐 – bā zhēn dòu fǔ) turned out to be “eight treasure tofu”, just like at Yi Lan (they mean “fried” instead of “dried here). Cubes of fried tofu are covered in a brown sauce with chunks of squid, fish, shrimp, chicken, dried scallops, sea cucmber, and other goodies. Good, but Yi Lan’s is six bucks cheaper for a version that is every bit as good, or better.


The (complimentary on this occasion) rice cakes (打糕 – dá gāo) are just like RiFu’s across the street – dense, gooey chunks served with ground red beans for dipping. The slight sweetness of the red bean makes this dish very dessert-like.


As you’ve no doubt gathered by now, I do find this place rather expensive, especially when you consider what is available nearby. Prices are almost identical at RiFu for food of similar quality, although RiFu’s portions are ENORMOUS (and RiFu has the wonderful “slate tofu” – thick slices of palpably house-made tofu served on a hot stone plate, each with its own dollop of red pepper paste and some minced scallion). But it's a cuisine worth investigating, and if you'd like more information, head over to Joe DiStefano's World's Fare blog and read his piece on Minzhongle.

Feng Mao
136-80 41st Ave., Flushing 11355
718-353-0757
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., walk 2 blocks south on Main, then left on 41st Ave.)

Guh Song

I had begun to hear some murmurings (internet-style) that the best jja jang myun in NYC might be served at a place I had not tried yet. So after my recording session this evening, I headed out to Bayside, Queens, to pay Guh Song a visit.

Well, the rumors may be right. I was the only caucasian in the place, and when I ordered the gan jja jang ("special sauce" jja jang myun), the waitress emitted a surprised/pleased "Oh!" The sauce is more flavorful than either of the other well-known places in the city, Sam Won Gahk and Hyo Dong Gak, and the noodles were good. My other must-try dish at a Korean-Chinese restaurant, goon mandu (fried dumplings), didn't fare so well. The wrappers were too thick and actually came out somewhat tough and leathery, and the filling was too heavy on under-cooked chives.

However, this was not, in fact, what most people were eating here. Clams and large crab seemed to be on every table but mine, and it all looked spectacular. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to determine exactly which dishes on the menu they were, but if I can scrape up some company for a return visit, I intend to find out. Especially delectable-looking were the large platters of clams slathered in a brown sauce (possibly "steamed clams with oyster sauce") with some Chinese broccoli, next to a mound of noodles. The waitress mixes it all for you at the table. For the novice, it seems to me it would be worthwhile to really take your time ordering, have a good look around the room to see what's on other tables, and don't be afraid to ask questions!

Guh Song
47-24 Bell Blvd., Basyide 11361
718-281-1810
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., then take the Q27 bus to Bell Blvd.)

Chung Ki Wa

Until fairly recently, I had gone through life somehow never having tried bu dae jigae. But last year, my roommate Kerrick on the (now defunct) Philharmonic Orchestra of the Americas Mexican tour introduced me to it in Mexico City, so now I periodically get cravings for it. Such was the case this evening. Problem was, I didn’t feel like eating any of the ones I already knew around town—each one had a fatal flaw rendering it inappropriate for this evening. Having noticed some unfamiliar Korean restaurants in the Jackson Heights vicinity several days ago, I decided to go for a menu-browsing stroll. Chung Ki Wa won.

And boy, did it ever win. A quick scan of the menu elicited the information that they serve gobchang gui—a very promising sign. I only know of one other Korean restaurant in the New York area that serves this dish, automatically elevating Chung Ki Wa to rarefied status. But it was bu dae jigae night, so I ordered it and waited. Several minutes later I was presented with the most interesting and satisfying array of banchan I think I have ever been served. Whoever made these really knew what they were doing: they were scrupulously fresh and beautifully prepared. Often the solo diner gets short shrift in the banchan department, but not here. I was given at least eight dishes, including the standard fermented cabbage kimchi, oi kimchi (cucumber kimchi), some beef-less japchae, strips of vegetable pancake, a fresh kimchi made with romaine lettuce chunks, vinegared potato shreds (much like the northern Chinese cold dish), a light mushroom salad, and—my favorite—chunks of potato and pork knuckle preserved with red pepper and vinegar (I guess this makes it a kimchi)... fabulous!

I was just beginning to slow down on the banchan when the bu dae jigae arrived, bubbling hot in a stone dish (the kind used for dol sot bi bim bap) with some cellophane noodles forming a small mound in the center. Normally, I feel deprived if there aren’t some ramen noodles in my bu dae jigae, and a few pokes revealed that cellophane were the only noodles in there. Those pokes also revealed, however, that just below the surface of the fiery, smooth red broth, the bowl was packed solid with goodies. And I do not use the term “goodies” lightly: in addition to the standard shreds of kimchi, there were some decidedly unstandard chunks of wiener (not the grocery store kind, but tasting palpably of having come from a good, probably German, butcher) and Spam-like ham (but of the same high quality and provenance as the wieners), plus slices of rice cake, fish cake, chunks of obviously house-made tofu, and ultra-thin slices of dried beef and mushrooms. I did not feel deprived in the least. This was easily the best bu dae jigae I have ever had, and it’s difficult to imagine a better one. I can’t wait to try its “daddy” here—bu dae jeong gol, a casserole/hotpot of similar ingredients, but more of them.

It’s unusual for me to write about a New York restaurant after just one visit, but the quality of my meal was so uniformly high, it seems highly unlikely that it was a fluke. In cooler weather, I look forward to their gam ja tang (spicy stew of pork back and potato) almost assuredly taking its place as my favorite version around town. Chung Ki Wa is literally across the street from the 74th/Roosevelt/Broadway subway station, and it’s open 24 hours.

This place reminds me of why I used to like Korean restaurants so much.

Chung Ki Wa
40-06 74th St., Elmhurst 11373
718-478-0925
(E, F, G, R, V, or 7 train to 74th St.-Broadway/Roosevelt Ave.-Jackson Heights)

“Los Arcos” - Antojitos Yucatecos

After Oaxaca, we returned to Mexico City to rehearse and perform what turned out to be a rather amazing concert: Philharmonic Orchestra of the Americas (or Orquesta Filarmónica de las Américas, if you prefer) was the opening salvo of the musical performances invited to play at the huge bicentenario celebration of Mexico’s independence in Mexico City on Sept. 15. There is a clip on YouTube of the first work we played (which I guess was broadcast all over the world… who knew?), the Danzón No. 2 by Arturo Marquéz, where you can see yours truly engaging in one of the activities that actually helps pay his rent. You can watch it here, and there are clear shots of me at mins. 1:09, 5:22 and 9:30. The orchestra was then joined by some very well-known Mexican singers--Natalia LaFourcade, Ely Guerra, and Lo Blondo--who sang a selection of Mexican songs, marvelously arranged by Lev Zhurbin. This took place on a stage set up at the Ángel de la Independencia, in front of a reported 25,000 people standing in the plaza and the surrounding streets... definitely the biggest party I've ever played for! It was thrilling in a way I never expected... but, after all, we classical instrumentalists are definitely not accustomed to being received like rock stars!

This time in Mexico City, we were a bit more centrally located than before, adjacent to the neighborhood known as the Zona Rosa. Quite unexpectedly, the area is home to a large number or Korean establishment (among its many diverse attractions)--there are at least 15 or 20 Korean restaurants in a 3-square-block area. For lunch one day we picked one (Song Lim, c/Liverpool 158, 2nd floor--but there is no Western writing on the sign, only Korean and Chinese), and were rewarded with, among other things, jja jang myun that actually tasted like jja jang myun, and a fun budae jun gol.


I must say, that was about the last thing I ever expected to eat in Mexico!

This neighborhood was the scene of what turned out to be my favorite meal in Mexico. My first evening there I was strolling through the area, seeing what there was, sniffing around, when I passed a very simple establishment--almost a hole in the wall--that smelled terrific. The sign said they served Yucatán-style food… I had no idea what that was, but I was determined to find out. They were about to close for the evening, so I resolved to return for lunch the next day. And return I did to “Los Arcos” - Antojitos Yucatecos. Upon inquiring as to the especialidad de la casa, I was told chamorro. Sold... without having any idea whatsoever as to what was actually going to arrive at my table! But I was willing to put my complete trust in any place that smelled that wonderful, and I was rewarded with the most delicious pork shank I have ever tasted. It arrives in a small trough, with an inch or so of deep orange-red broth on the bottom. The shank has been stewed with achiote seed paste (which gives the broth its distinctive color), a little vinegar and some spices, and served with tortillas and two kinds of onion relish (once again, I was warned that one of them was ¡muy picante!, and it was... a little spicy). The idea is much like eating carne en su jugo in Guadalajara: 1) eat a slice or two of pork, slurp some broth, make a little wet taco with some of the meat and some onion relish. 2) Repeat in any order. 3) Experience bliss. This feast set me back 5 dollars. They prepare chicken much the same way (pollo pibil), too.

I’m not sure I can explain just why I have such incredible fondness for this meal. I’m sure there are more beautifully and carefully prepared versions of this food around, in plusher surroundings. But there is something simple and honest about this place and their offerings... real food for REAL people, and it was a privilege to be able to mix with them for a few minutes and get a taste of something extraordinary.

“Los Arcos” - Antojitos Yucatecos
c/Florencia 43-A, Col. Juárez
Ciudad de México, Distrito Federal, México
(+52) (55) 5533-5877

WonJo

(Edit: A recent visit was notable for a remarkable dip in quality - accompanied by a spike in prices, naturally. If you must have Korean BBQ, do yourself a favor and plan a trip to Flushing or Ft. Lee, NJ, where you will receive infinitely better value. Also, this place is now called "New WonJo", hinting at a change of management. In any case, everything we tried, from BBQ to naeng myun to banchan is now mediocre at best. And do not go here expecting anything remotely resembling good service. This place now sums up everything I dislike about Manhattan's Koreatown; Hyo Dong Gak is about the only worthy destination left there.)

The weather in NYC the last several days has been sweltering, and during such times my thought turn, inevitably, to naeng myun. For me, it's one of the great hot-weather dishes, and I've never had better naeng myun than at WonJo.

Naeng myun is thin buckwheat noodles in ice-cold beef broth. Toss in some hard-boiled egg, a few slices of beef, and some ultra-thin slices of cucumber and pear (!), doctor to taste with the accompanying rice wine vinegar and mustard, and you have an incredibly refreshing summer dish.

WonJo is also notable for being the only place I know of in Manhattan's Koreatown that still does their at-the-table barbecue over wood embers, as opposed to gas grills. For me, the gold standard for Korean barbecue is Emone in Flushing, with great quality and reasonable prices--if one can't make the trip out there, the wood embers at WonJo help in make up for the lesser quality and significantly higher prices (as in at least 30%).

But at $12.95, WonJo's naeng myun, with the attendant, excellent banchan, is a reasonably-priced, delicious way to beat the heat.

WonJo
23 W. 32nd Street, New York 10001
212-695-5815
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Emone Gui (Korean BBQ)

While the idea of Korean barbecue is almost always appealing, the experience is almost always--for me, at least--totally underwhelming. I stopped going to the joints in Manhattan's Koreatown years ago after a) they got to be far too expensive for what they delivered, and b) all but one or two places got rid of the wood embers and replaced them with gas grills. Tonight's meal, however, re-ignited my too-long-dormant passion for Korean grilled meats. Emone Gui is Korean barbecue as I had only vaguely imagined it could be.

Investigating a second-hand tip about a really good Korean barbecue on Union St. near Northern Blvd., I happened upon it a several nights ago. I popped in to pick up a take-away menu for future reference--they didn't have any. What they did have was a very helpful fellow--who turned out to be the owner's son-- working there who told me a bit about the place. It certainly "looked" right (with a bit of practice, a surprisingly reliable guide), even if there were only gas grills. Because the answer in the past had always been "no" everywhere else, I almost forgot to ask him if they had gobchang gui (grilled beef intestine). When he told me it's the house specialty, I assured him I'd be back soon with a friend or two. It took 5 days, and, naturally enough, it was with Jose--and his camera.

We settled on an order of gobchang gui, naturally, and an order of maewoon samgyupsal gui--grilled pork belly that has been marinated in hot pepper paste. These were accompanied by a marvelous array of banchan that included everything from the usual kimchi and kongnamul (beansprouts) to shredded potatoes and pieces of pancake to soft-shell crabs in hot pepper paste (!) to a cold soup and a hot cabbage stew to steamed egg. And everything had that "homemade taste":


The removal of the napkin covering the grilling intestine (presumably to keep down splattering):


Close up of the grilling pork belly:


The full grill:


I can assure you everything tasted even better than it looks. Considering the feast one is presented with, its stunningly high quality, and the significantly-lower-than-Manhattan-Koreatown prices, this place is an absolute bargain.


The only way this place could be better would be if they replaced those gas grills with wood embers.

Edited to add a caveat: based on a subsequent visit, it would appear that solo diners should skip this place altogether, unless one wants a soup/stew dish (which are available almost anywhere). They enforce a "2-order minimum" for barbecuing at the table, and the stir-fry dishes are disproportionately expensive, so, with a totally unfounded sense of what proved to be false optimism, I ordered one of the barbecue dishes prepared in back in the kitchen. What emerged was a hot plate of dried-out meat hardly worth eating. They also saw fit to greatly reduce the selection of banchan they were willing to offer just one lowly person, keeping it the most run-of-the-mill stuff. When I had finished the little dribble they initially brought, they had to practically be coerced into bringing me any more. This is also the very first time I can remember having to ASK--repeatedly--for rice in a Korean restaurant. If this had been my first visit, I never would have returned. So go with a group.

Emone Gui (Korean BBQ)
36-26 Union St., Flushing 11354
718-353-3444
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., 1 block east on Roosevelt, then left on Union St.)

Mani 1 Korean-Chinese Restaurant (CLOSED)

Tucked away in a relatively quiet block of Flushing's Union St. is the Korean-Chinese restaurant Mani 1. I stopped in to pick up a take-out menu for future reference (oddly, there is no Korean on the take-out menu that transliterates as "Mani"--just, roughly, chwee ryong mong), and the waiter let me know that they have an eat-in special of jja jang myun for $2.99. How can one go wrong for just $2.99? I stayed and tried it.

It turns out you can't (go wrong, that is). While the noodles are nothing special (standard dry noodles boiled up), the sauce is an especially comforting, home-y version of a food that I find to be serious comfort food to begin with: lots of almost-carmelized onions, enough meat to keep it interesting, and a nice, mellow flavor. And at $2.99, a steal!

There appear to be some things lurking on the menu that aren't just run-of-the-mill Korean-Chinese fare that warrant future exploration. And, of course, fried mandu.

Mani 1 Korean-Chinese Restaurant
40-26 Union St., Flushing 11354
718-463-2520
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., 1 block east on Roosevelt, then right on Union St.)

Sam Won Gahk

My meal at Hyo Dong Gak last week made me curious to revisit the first restaurant I ever found in New York that served jja jang myun made with hand-pulled noodles, Sam Won Gahk. The location I used to go to in Elmhurst closed a few years ago, alas, but the Flushing/Murray Hill outpost is still going strong.

These two appear to be the best-known purveyors of hand-pulled jja jang myun in NYC, and, in terms of quality, I would have to say they are comparable. The fried mandu at Sam Won Gahk have a slightly more flavorful filling, but are otherwise similar to Hyo Dong Gak's (even they aren't quite so huge).

I have no firsthand knowledge by which to judge whose jja jang myun is more authentic... it may simply come down to taste. I can tell you the noodles at Sam Won Gahk are a bit firmer, a bit more like fresh ramen noodles--Hyo Dong Gak's are a bit "springier".


While HDG's sauce ends up being somewhat on the goopy side, I ultimately prefer the flavor to SMG's--it's a bit more "filled out" and mellow. This evening, my friend Jose got the item listed as "noodles with Peking meat sauce"--the same noodles with a similar sauce, but made with minced beef instead of than pork. I liked it rather better than my gan jja jang.


Bottom line: you'll get a great, cheap meal at either place. Sam Won Gahk also has a location at 21901 Northern Blvd. in Bayside, Queens.

Sam Won Gahk
144-20 Northern Blvd., Flushing 11354
718-445-8500
view old menu of Bayside location--add $1.00 to most prices
(7 train to Flushing-Main St., walk 3 blocks north to Northern Blvd., turn right and walk 5 blocks east, or hop a Q13 or Q28 bus)

Hyo Dong Gak

Comfort food has many forms, and for me one of them--most likely originating from my college days when I had quite a few Korean friends--is jja jang myun. There is something almost primal about a bowl of noodles with a dark brown (almost black), glossy sauce of meat, soy bean paste, and vegetables. And when I get that craving, I head down to Hyo Dong Gak, in Manhattan's Koreatown.

Jja jang myun is a Koreanization of the Chinese dish zha jiang mian, which shows up on Chinese menus as "noodle with Peking meat sauce", hence the fact that one must go specifically to a Korean-Chinese restaurant to get this dish. And, although both the Korean and Chinese versions have many of the same ingredients, somehow they taste nothing like each other. Hyo Dong Gak makes theirs, most importantly, with hand-pulled noodles--ask your waiter to bring over the scissors to cut them up before starting, or you're going to be in for an especially complicated eating experience. These delectable, springy strands are offered with four variations of jja jang sauce (myun=noodle)... my favorite is the one with ground meat as opposed to the small chunks. I can never remember which one that is, but your waiter or waitress will be happy to describe the differences between the sauces. All vaguely resemble oil slicks, so try not to be alarmed. To me the flavor is totally incongruous with the sauce's appearance--complex, yet soothing, with a mild earthiness. One of my Korean friends proclaimed that the jja jang myun "kinda sucked", but without a lot of specific childhood memories to live up to, I think it's delicious, and other Korean friends of mine like it well enough.

What ALL of my friends have agreed is spectacular, and the other real reason to go here, is the fried meat dumpling (goon mandu is also, for some reason, mostly the province of Korean-Chinese restaurants). Eight large mandu (twice the size of most Chinese dumplings), fried to a crisp golden brown--a bargain at around seven bucks. Mix your own traditional dipping sauce of half soy sauce, half vinegar right at the table (I like to add a little red pepper, naturally).

Be aware that there are two separate menus here: a Korean one and a Chinese one, and I don't think there are any dishes that appear on both. Ask for the Korean menu (they usually automatically hand caucasians the Chinese one)--General Tso's Chicken is not what makes this restaurant special and unusual.

Hyo Dong Gak
51 W. 35th St., New York 10001
212-695-7167
view Chinese menu, if you're curious (the Korean menu does not appear to be online anywhere)
(between 5th and 6th Aves.)

Choong Moo Ro (CLOSED)

In fact, I believe they are officially listed as "Chung Moo Ro", but "Choong" is actually a better transliteration of the first syllable (yes, I'm a total geek and learned the Korean alphabet many years ago). (8/2010: the place has been re-modeled and is now called Miss Korea... unclear if it's the same management or not)

I love the fact that there is an entire sub-genre of "24-hour Korean BBQ restaurants" in New York! This is probably my all-round favorite restaurant in Manhattan's Koreatown, and I had another good meal there this evening with a tenor friend (who's dating a Korean girl, no less, and proclaimed it much better than the Korean restaurant she took him to!). Sure, some things may be a bit better at other restaurants in the area, and a beloved menu item or two they may not have at all (for the unutterably fabulous spicy black goat meat stew, you gotta go to Kang Suh... and pay those prices!), but I find myself returning to Choong Moo Ro more often than any of the others. And it doesn't hurt that the prices here tend to be a couple of dollars cheaper than those of most of its neighbors.

Service is pleasant and efficient (okay, I had crappy service once, but I've never seen that waiter there again). The panchan (or banchan--the little dishes that come out first to accompany the meal, and almost always includes a couple of kinds of kim chee) are plentiful, well-prepared, and fresh--this last quality can most definitely not always be assumed at all Koreatown joints!

People usually want to know about the barbecue... in fact, I would never order the barbecue here because, like most other places in Koreatown, their table-grills are gas and not the traditional wood embers. Only Wonjo, across the street, still uses wood embers, so that is my default barbecue of choice. But that said, the barbecue here looks very good (a suprisingly accurate gauge, I've found) and I hear, although I missed it on the menu by not even looking at the barbecue section, that they offer a special barbecue combination of 3 meats, plus a stew dish, for $48. This should easily feed 2 big eaters, and ought to be enough for 3 with an appetizer or two, making it pretty damn good deal. This is almost certainly what the neighboring table this evening ordered, and they were enjoying it immensely.

Me, I'm a sucker for jae yook bok eum (stir-fried pork and vegetables in hot pepper paste), and it's great here--my favorite version of the probably dozen I've tried in Koreatown. My tenor friend's jap chae (clear noodles with suateed beef and vegetables) was also excellent. All the soup/stews I've tried have been very good (if only they had black goat meat... but mae woon kal bi tang--beef short ribs in a spicy broth--is a decent second choice). This is also a very good place to get dol sot bi bim bap: rice with meat or seafood, and/or vegetables, served in a hot stone bowl--you mix it up when it arrives and it finishes cooking in front of you. Their pa jeon--Korean pancake, with various ingredients cooked in--is much better than most places, too.

And... they're always open!

Choong Moo Ro
10 W. 32nd St., New York 10001
212-594-4963
between Broadway and 5th Ave.)