Eatin' ROK

Ravenous Reader,

I'm certain that, as you sit there at your computer box, sipping your caffeinated beverage of choice (yes, Diet Coke counts, Mormons...)you are wondering (as you often do) about how my life is going, because, let's face it, if you're reading this tripe you've nothing better to think about.

Well, I'm fine. I'm also somehow lighter, thanks in part to the cuisine in the ROK but mostly thanks to the insane amount of stair climbage one encounters here on a daily, nay, hourly basis. Much to my chagrin though, my thighs are bigger than ever. I've been issued a citation for disturbance of the peace due to the decibel level my thighs reach as they rub together in their fleshy, rhythmic way.

Okay, I haven't been issued a citation yet but it's only a matter of time before my femoral friction begins emitting sound waves loud enough to crack the pavement and I become the world's largest bespectacled grasshopper.

Thighs aside (don't read into this too much, innuendous reader) I would like to have a sit-down chat with you about food here.



Are we comfy? Then let's begin.

I had my first taste of Korean cuisine back when I was working at Todai: Portland's premier overpriced sushi buffet. The company's name and theme are Japanese but the management and ownership is exclusively Korean. Thus, my boss James made certain that the Korean staple below was included on the buffet daily.



The above is known throughout the land of ROK as kimchi (pronounced Kim, like Kim Fields AKA Tootie from "The Facts of Life" and chee, like "cheap pile of cabbage"). I instantly loved the pickley, spicy, crunchy, chewiness of the dish. Don't ask why. I was really into hot sauce at that point in life. So here I am, ages and ages later, faced with the beloved side dish (or "banchan" as they're known here) and let me tell you: it's still pretty good. Admittedly, there's a different taste here than there was in the US. I think the stuff at Todai must've been made nearly daily ('cause...ya know...it's cheaper to make the crap yourself than import it from Korea. That and Todai, like my mother, loves a bargain). The kimchi here, ironically, tastes like chemicals and cayenne pepper. That's about all you can taste/smell for the next couple of hours so make sure you sample some of what's on your plate prior to partaking in this dragon-breath-inducing veggie dish. It'll be nice to just get a feel for the real flavor of the food before kimchi sets up permanent residence in both your taste buds and the space in between your second and third molars.



Most of whatever else I eat comes from school or home. School lunch is always an adventure and nearly always edible. Actually, the cook is quite good and I'm pretty sure the school is lucky to have her. The soups are always fish-based and top-notch (and well-hyphenated). There's always some kind of meat portion which you know, Worcestershire-addicted reader, pleases this hefty carnivore greatly. There's always rice and, of course, kimchi. If cook is feeling extra sassy, she'll do a fish as well as beef and then top the whole thing off with a gentle parcel of salt-cured, roasted seaweed which really turns my epicurean crank, most especially when coupled with the aforementioned rice.

I have to eat with the four year olds but...what the hell. I'll do anything for free food.


Anything.


On the whole, I have been eating fairly well although there are ways to get into trouble even here in the land of the trim waist and the slim hip. America, while she gave ROK capitalism, also gave her nutritional advice. Considering all our beloved country has done for my pantsize and the size of knickers and bloomers across the globe, it's a fairly dim prospect for the dear old Republic. For instance, I run into Koreans almost daily who proclaim that items like cookies and cake are "too sweet".



Too sweet indeed...

HOWEVER! They have no problem (nor shame) in shoveling in Dunkin' Donuts and Cold Stone Creamery ice cream every chance they get. Sure, they're joyous, well-lit, fun-loving places now but in a few years this same race, the race of 6% bodyfat and even less percent patience for anything that doesn't have a blinking neon sign on it, will not be able to see its own ample buttocks without the help of some specially placed mirrors and flood lighting. I see them starting to traipse merrily down the same road we did: deep frying everything in sight after coating it in panko bread crumbs and then dipping it in ranch dressing.


One of their more monstrous abominations: the french fry coated hot dog on a stick.

Now why didn't WE think of that? I'll tell you why: the fat from our dimpled glutes has finally clogged our arteries and our minds.

Be forewarned Korea. I have seen your future. It isn't pretty...

...and it has a daughter named Darleen.

Other than the above foods, Korea has a lot of really strange things to offer up, but I'll try anything once and, of course, twice if it's dessert or is misspelled on the menu. I've only had the food poisoning once since I've been here and that was only because I got impatient at a shabu-shabu restaurant and ate undercooked chicken (this is a restaurant where you do your own cooking, so...I had to curse my own name as I retched my "Welcome To Korea" meal into my blessedly western-style turrlet at home).


Fish heads, fish heads, roly-poly fish heads...

The weirdest thing I've managed to sink my teeth into thusfar has to be the fish egg sac soup and fish-with-the-heads-still-on I had during my weekend training last month. The sac was one of those things where you just close your eyes and hope it tastes more like salt than anything else.

No, it didn't taste only like salt, but I ate the suckers without blinking. We don't want to be thought uncultured, do we, squirmish reader?

I thought not.

The adventures in asian cuisine continue as I eat my way through the remaining 10 months of my stay here. I can't believe the time has gone by so quickly.

Keep in touch!

Lurve,
Geoffwah