Korea Roundup 2011: Korean Bakeries, You've Come a Long Way

There is one thing I didn't expect to get completely and hopelessly addicted to in Korea -- anything produced by the venerable Paris Croissant bakery (it doesn't have an English website. Interestingly, it has a baking academy. Here's the Korean website.). Mind you, this isn't the ubiquitous Paris Baguette (same owner) you could even find in LA, which is nothing special. We're talking about the upscale version of Paris Baguette that has all sorts of mouth-watering pastries that I still day-dream about.

The first one doesn't look particularly appealing, I know. But it's a genius combination of two of my favorite breads -- soboru pang, is a classic bun with a sweet and crumbly crust added on top and pat pang, a bun with red bean paste filling. Who woulda thunk it, seriously?! When I saw "soboru pat pang" being sold at Paris Croissant and other bakeries, it was one of those 'I can't believe no one's thought of that before now' moments.




Then I perused and tried other pastries like the cherry tart, whose outer shell was flaky and crispy, with a light custard in the center topped with some real cherries. None of that gross fuchsia ones used in cocktails and cheap parfaits (you know what I'm talking about). It wasn't overly sweet and yet the crust, custard and cherries all complemented each others' flavors and textures so well.











The large, round apple tart with some raisins thrown in was divine in the same way. The little pod-like breads were filled with excellent quality, pitted manzanilla-type Spanish olives that would be perfect with wine as appetizers before a meal or just munchies at a cocktail.

All of these were washed down with a heartwarming grapefruit tea full of freshly squeezed pulp -- perfect for that vitamin boost you need in the winter.

Then there were cream puffs. I've always been a huge fan of Beard Papa, but these were excellent in their own way. The puffs were as, well, puffy and fresh as BP. They differed most in their custard filling. BP has more of a yellow-toned custard that's creamier than this one, which was creamy but closer to a whiter-toned custard and closer to a good whipping cream than custard. I didn't think I'd like it judging by the color and texture but I did.

Ah, I predict a rant in the near future about a lack of Paris Croissants in LA! Paris Baguette just doesn't cut it. I just heard about Cream Pan in Tustin that allegedly makes the best strawberry croissants and I can't wait to trek out there to try them. Also, must visit the new Bouchon Bakery in BH.

Korean bakeries have come a very long way and now I can't get enough. Oh, the apple turnover with sugar sprinkled on top wasn't good because of the sugar. Apple turnovers should be left alone. They don't need to be sprinkled with sugar. The filling was good but they should NOT sprinkle any sugar!

Korea Roundup 2011: One of the Best Charcoal-Grilled Eels Ever

The only time I've had really good eel was at my fave sushi joint, Hiko Sushi, where I usually revel in my last piece (ok, usually anyway -- unless I decide I want another uni...) of my omakase with anago, or salt-water eel grilled and topped with a super light sauce.

I had some of best eel I've ever had at a place called Poongcheon Jang-eo Jeonmun in the suburban town of Bundang about half an hour from Seoul. What a find.

First of all, you gotta love a place that serves you deep fried eel bones as soon as you sit down. I'd never had that before, so was skeptical but I was hoarding them after the first crunchy bite. Note to self: fried eel bones would make great anju, or bar food.

I know they look like they've been displayed in a natural history museum but they were excellent, packed with calcium and sure beat lame peanuts as my bar food of choice.

After a bunch of banchan, or side dishes, were placed before me, nine neatly chopped pieces of minmool jang-eo, or freshwater eel, were laid out on the grill tableside with a copper-toned vent to ensure my clothes wouldn't stink of burnt eel afterward (not that I'd mind).

I went with the sogeum gooey (gooey means grilled in Korean, not anything resembling the texture of okra) upon the owner's recommendation. Also, I knew that if the eel were truly fresh, the best way to enjoy it would be in its purest and simplest form -- seasoned with nothing but a little salt.

And I was not disappointed.

I flipped the eel pieces to ensure they would be nicely browned on both sides. And I dug in. Wow. The flesh was so incredibly tender and tasted like it had just been caught.

The cool thing about this place was that like with Korean barbecue, there was an array of different ways I could eat the eel. Solo, wrapped in pickled kkennip (perilla leaves), with some grilled raw garlic, with a buchu (this is the green that I recently raved about on this post) and onion  "salad," wrapped in ppongnip (pickled mulberry leaves), pickled radish or cabbage leaves -- the list goes on.

Then there was ssamjang, a dip that struck a perfect harmony of salty and spicy from a mix of fermented soybean paste and red pepper paste and other aromatics that is consumed with a wrap (where the ssam part of the word derives from) containing a protein and greens.





Check out "the works."

I had three favorite ways to eat the eel. 1) Wrapped in the pickled perilla leaf, 2) wrapped in a radish round and topped with a slightly charred slice of garlic and 3) wrapped in napa cabbage (it's a non-spicy form of kimchi -- basically pickled cabbage) and topped with some ssamjang.

There's something about the combination of tangy and oily (in the best way possible) fish finished off with another dimension of flavor by way of garlic or some kick.

I'm tempted to go into a rant about LA not having a place nearly this good (I'll have to stick to Hiko for now. Sigh.) but I'll spare you.

It was hard to believe, but the duenjang jjigae, or fermented soybean stew, and gyeranjjim, or savory egg custard, that came sizzling to my table in all their rustic glory were just as good.

The duejang was hearty and bold in its saltiness with tofu cubes, mushrooms, onions, zucchini and green onions.

The egg custard (check out those bubbles!) was soft and the epitome of comfort itself -- topped with the perfectly color-combined green onions on a yellow background. The green onions are added at the very end so they don't overcook and they stayed crunchy here too. I would have finished it off had I not been relishing every single piece of that eel so much.

They say eel has 200 more times vitamin A than beef and Korean men literally eat it up because it's supposed to be good for virility (What's up with Korean men and their obsession with eating anything that's supposed to help in that department? That's a whole other post.). Whatever.

All I know is that it's incredibly delicious and although it doesn't come cheap (about US$23), the treat is well worth it.


Bundang Poongcheon Jang-eo Jeonmun
분당 풍천장어 전문
(031) 718-5129

Cooking: Combine Scallions and Seafood to Make Awesome Haemul Pajeon

There's nothing like home-made haemul pajeon, or pancakes made with jjokpa (Korean green onions), oysters and clams (sometimes with squid but not this time). It's so easy to make and always a crowd pleaser. Just mix some flour and egg with some water and add the jjokpa and sprinkle some of the seafood onto the pan when you pour the batter. It goes well with makgeolli, a Korean rice drink, or just as part of a regular meal.

Korea Roundup 2011: Ginkgo Tree House Serves Up Amazing Stuffed Duck

I'm usually not a huge fan of duck, but this was no ordinary duck. It was stuffed with all sorts of goodies like pumpkin seeds, ginkgo nuts, chestnuts, pine nuts and sticky rice and black rice. It was none other than the Ginkgo Tree House (은행나무집), which specializes in this kind of stuffed duck.


The duck had to be pre-ordered as it is slow cooked for at least three hours. It's cooked in an oven until the skin is crisp on the outside and the rice inside is fully cooked. It makes for an amazing presentation at the table. 1) Crispy duck, 2) Piping hot stuffing is revealed as the duck is cut open and 3) the best part -- get thee some duck meat and stuffing on your plate and dig in!

The duck was juicy and tender and the sticky rice and nuts stuffing was chewy, crunchy and masked the gaminess of the bird very well. The strong aromas of the different nuts blended perfectly to make a great side to the star of the meal.

Again, this is unusual for me because I've never been a stuffing-kind of person, at least for the traditional American turkey meal. 

You could dip the meat in a salt and pepper mix or a tangy and sweet Korean mustard-based sauce. I alternated between the two and before I knew it, my companion and I had devoured the entire duck!

Highlights of the banchan, or side dishes, were the buchu (remember I raved about it a few posts ago?) seasoned in some sesame oil (not the strong stuff but there's a milder one deulgireum, or wild sesame oil/들기름 ), sesame seeds and some gochugaru, or red pepper flakes.

The other fave was the radish. They're called daikon radish in the US but these are actually chubbier and shorter than the longer daikon variety so I'm just going to go with Korean radish. They were cut into thin rectangular blocks and pickled with some rice vinegar. They were very refreshing as an antidote to the very fatty and rich duck.

 This was the buchu banchan.

 Neatly stacked and refreshing (Korean!) radishes.

Why we felt like barbarians at the end of the meal.

Other menu items include a duck version of samgyetang, the young chicken soup that comes stuffed with ginseng, dried jujubes, etc and is usually consumed in the summer as a way to replenish one's energy in extremely hot and humid weather. It also offers duck bossam, which is usually a pork belly dish that comes with steamed nappa cabbage and other greens and kimchi as well as spicy raw squid meant to be eaten as wraps. Even though it sounds like ttuk bossam, it's vastly different in that ttuk bossam refers to thinly sliced ribeye meat slices grilled table side and wrapped in thin rice paper sheets with the works that come with Korean barbecue.

Ginkgo Tree House (은행나무집) -- Hannam Location

(02) 792-3851

Cooking: These Greens are Earthy, Healthy and Delicious

Sorry I've been MIA. Here's a belated rave-cum-rant of the week. Rave for neng-ee, which is a green that's eaten with its root (with the dirt washed out and outer layer shaved off, of course). Rant because yes, you guessed it, you can't get neng-ee this fresh and fragrant stateside. What's up with that?

The best way to consume this green is neng-ee namul -- blanch it quickly and season it with dwenjang, Korean fermented soybean paste (NOT miso!), some sesame oil, sesame seeds and diced green onions.

OMG. It's sold in LA but it's just not nearly as flavorful. The biggest appeal of this green is its really earthy fragrance that complements so well with the saltiness of the soybean paste. That's why it's also added to arguably one of the most classic Korean dishes of all time, dwenjang jjigae, or fermented soybean paste stew. Ok, it doesn't sound like the most appetizing dish and some may say it's an acquired taste, but trust me, it's that good.

Some may be confused by the zillion greens featured in Korean cuisine but part of the fun is trying to decipher which green is on the table after tasting it. Chui namul? Spinach? Neng-ee?

In any case, it looks like I may have to start growing Korean veggies on a community garden somewhere in LA. Anyone know of a good plot? I will really miss the earthy and super flavorful vegetables and fruits in Korea.

Korea Roundup 2011: Jeonju Kongnamul Haejangguk Serves Sizzling Bean Sprouts Soup

Yes, it's true. I have a thing for hole-in-the-wall joints. Of course, it's now become a cliche but this one has earned its place in the hole-in-the-wall hall of fame.

It's called Jeonju Kongnamul Haejangguk and serves its namesake, kongnamul haejangguk, a humble bean sprout soup that has already plopped the rice in there for you and is supposedly good as a hangover cure. But you don't need a hangover to have this delicious soup on a cold, winter day. When the rice is added in the soup before it arrives on your table, it's usually called a certain kind of guk bap. This one could interchangeably be called kongnamul guk bap, or bean sprout soup with rice.

I loved the sizzling sound (and the sight of the bubbles and steam emanating from the bowl!) of the soup when it got to my table, as I quickly tried to bury the egg yolk so it would cook slightly.

Let's take a step back for a sec before going into the soup. I was already impressed with this place after we ordered and the banchan, or side dishes, started to arrive.

They were simple but clearly made with care and were packed with flavor. My favorite banchan was the buchu, which was like a flattened version of green onions but as thin as chives, except without a hollow middle. Man, that's hard to explain.

As you can see on the left, they're like flat green onions. They have a much milder flavor than scallions. They are similar in flavor to saebal and are best consumed raw seasoned with some sesame oil or as pancakes. These were seasoned with a very light dressing with a lot of wild sesame seeds that had the smokiest flavor that really enhanced the buchu, with the added bonus of crunchy texture that brought it all together.

The myulchi bokkeum, or dried anchovies pan-fried and seasoned with some spice, sweetness and sesame oil and seeds, went well with the brothy soup.

The maneul jjong, or garlic stems cooked and seasoned with some red pepper flakes, gave the soup some more spice. These had a slight garlicky flavor but not too strong.

It also had sliced dashima, or kelp that was barely seasoned but gave a good balance of mild flavor. I'd never had dashima sliced so thinly so it was an interesting "cut," so to speak and easier to eat. Must try it at home.

As for the soup itself, the broth was based on myulchi or dried anchovies. Koreans love their dried anchovies -- adding them to make broth and use anchovies of all sizes to make side dishes.

The kongnamul, or bean sprouts, were so fresh and had a deep soybean flavor that the soup didn't need too much stuff except for the egg that was cracked at the end, plenty of chopped green onions and of course, rice.

It was very comforting and a great meal that I'll definitely be returning to. The place only serves four dishes.



Jeonju Kongnamul Haejangguk
전주콩나물해장국
(031) 265-9086

Cooking: Saebal, A Versatile New Green

Markets are like candy stores for me so it wasn't a surprise that I spent all of three hours scouring a Korean market that sells everything from produce and cookbooks to slippers and plates.

Anyway, I discovered a new green that looked fascinating called saebal (세발나물), so naturally I bought it.

Thankfully, the packaging suggested I make namul or jeon with it. Namul is an umbrella term that usually refers to a vegetable that's been seasoned either raw or cooked -- in this case, raw. Jeon is a pancake, like the one you see here.

I figured I would split the green into both namul and jeon. However, after I pan-fried some saebal jeon in a batter of water, egg, flour and ready-made jeon powder all seasoned with some salt, it tasted so good I didn't need to make namul.

The saebal jeon was easy to eat (I had chopped the greens into one-inch long strands) and very mild and refreshing in flavor. The jeon was delicate in texture because the greens were very thin. The greens went very nicely with the flour-based batter.

They literally sold like hot cakes once they hit the table.

I had them as namul at a restaurant a few days later, seasoned with nothing but a bit of sesame oil, salt and red pepper flakes. Delicious but not as good as the jeon.



I predict this will soon become a rant of the week where I complain about a lack of fresh greens like these in LA. Stay tuned...