Korean Food Spotlight: 부대찌개

     It's time for another edition of my slightly-less-than-weekly "Korean food spotlight."  We'll continue with the relatively simple concepts, in this case a giant soup in which the dominant ingredients are hardly traditionally used Korean materials.

     This dish is called 부대찌개, or "budae jjigae" if you prefer (sounds like BOO-DAY-JJEE-GAE).  The translation of this is a little amusing; 부대(budae) refers to a military base, while 찌개(jjigae) refers to any particularly thicker Korean stew.  This can be a little confusing until you hear the story of 부대찌개's inception.

Why eat this?

     No one thoroughly enjoys talking about the U.S. military presence in Korea, foreigners and Koreans alike (it seems), but 부대찌개 is one lasting memory of the United States' military presence in the peninsula.  How can this be?

     The main ingredients are all too familiar to most Americans, and include spam, hot dogs, cheese, beans (baked, kidney), onions, mushrooms, and peppers.  How do they make it into a Korean dish, you ask?  During and after the Korean War (1950-53), Korea's countryside masses turned to foraging for food they could not grow themselves--as one might learn from being here, the heavily bombed landscape that already includes 70% mountains doesn't leave an ideal amount of land on which to grow food.  Thus, people gathered leftovers from U.S. army rations (specifically from bases in and around my particular area, Pyeongtaek, which is loaded with these kids of restaurants), and did what many Koreans choose to do with a bevy of diverse ingredients--stew them in a soup.

What the hell am I looking at?

     The result is all of those sausages, spam, beans, vegetables and cheese, plus, of course, kimchi and pepper paste that we here in the peninsula refer to as 부대찌개.  Here's some visual context:

 In this particular 부대찌개, you can see some sliced spam, hot dogs, cheese,
beef, onions, rice cakes, mushrooms, and...of course, kimchi.

Heat up your portable table stove, and you've got a good 

broth started.  Yet, you're still missing one Korean favorite

that often goes in 부대찌개: ramen.  Throw it in and you're

good to go.  This particular restaurant, in Seoul, provided 

unlimited ramen per table!

In goes the ramen and some further onions, and it's ready to eat within 

minutes.  A nice little boil started, the spicy broth starting to roll...

     Budae jjigae (부대찌개) restaurants don't differ too much; depending on the place and the garden ingredients available, you'll see small variations.  One time I literally saw cans of Bush's Baked Beans (for the 'Merikans) being dumped into the broth, while on another occasion, I was lucky enough to have some freshly cut tofu blocks stewed in.  Here, you'll see some macaroni that I failed to mention:

Even though we're working with largely familiar, American ingredients, you're

still looking at one relatively healthy dish, all things considered.  This is one of

those meals that makes you feel just connected enough to come, but still very

much Korean.

So how does it taste?

     I think the idea of 부대찌개 gives many an instant thought of "well, this is good, but I'm not really eating Korean food, am I?"  The answer, intuitively, is no.  No, you are not eating Korean food.  But when you think back to the reason this is a popular, comforting dish in the first place, and you think about how proud people here are of their food--proud enough that they would keep the ingredients that some folks were allowed to subsist on when their rice fields were burned, cabbage, radishes and other crops were rotten, etc. and still find ways to "Korean-ize" it with their own tofu, kimchi, and spicy ingredients--you're not eating something that feels remotely foreign when you're finished.  Let it be known, this is most certainly still Korean food.

     And, as just about everything else here, it's awesome.  It has that perfect amount of spice and medicinal (the kind in which your nose just clears and clears) effect of warming and giving life and spices to your whole body.  And it's decidedly fun to eat, as all 부대찌개 restaurants differ from each other just a little bit.

     Give it a try!  Thanks for checking out this week's "Korean food spotlight."

Korean Food Spotlight: 곱창

Thanks for checking back in on the blog, folks.  I decided, just to give myself some motivation in better documenting life here, and to give you a reason to stay remotely interested, I'll start breaking up the long-winded posts about big weekends and big cultural concepts with a segment called "Korean Food Spotlight."  In my 14 months in Korea, I've learned that, for those who possess a strong stomach like myself, food is truly A) the best way to start asking questions about other cultural things, and B) the easiest, most impressive way to show any Korean that you're halfway interested in their country.

     That being said, let's get on with this week's Korean Food Spotlight: 곱창, or "GOPE-CH-ONG (as in "wrong")."  Let me show you a picture and ask that you think to yourself for about 10 seconds on what this strange food might be:

Mix in a little oil, onion, and potato.  You're thinking...some kind of mystery meat, right?

Question #1: What the hell am I looking at?

     These are insides, my friends.  곱창 (gopchang) translates, quite literally to "giblet."  In gopchang, you're seeing anything from intestine to stomach to kidney.  The two most likely sources of gopchang at any given Korean restaurant are A) pig and B) cow.  I've tried both, but on this particular occasion, cow was the lone option.  I can't indicate much of a preference, but I can testify to cow being much more expensive than pig across the board in Korea.  You see this reflected in prices of other cuts of meat at BBQ restaurants as well, at least in my area.  When you get to Seoul, as we did on this night, prices can really fluctuate.

Question #2: Why eat this?

     Asia never ceases to blow me away in the following way: the parts we, as Westerners (most of us) neglect as being tasteless, useless, and altogether disgusting are the very parts that many Asian cultures, among whom Korea is no exception, seek to use with the most care and creativity.  Of course, fried livestock insides is hardly anyone's idea of culinary genius, but herein lies another line of thinking in Asia, and Korea: these exclusive, often neglected parts, are, counterintuitively, the most special and treasured parts, for that very reason.  I've still never been convinced of this latter concept, but I must say that I admire any culture that seeks to use all parts of an animal.  A packed house of young Koreans eating and drinking can't be wrong:

Though it was prime club time, young people in this particular neighborhood would
rather suck down some cheap liquor and cow liver with friends.  Can't say I disagree.

Gopchang is, if nothing else, enjoyable for the very experience of eating it.  We walked into a bustling restaurant in the 교대 (National University of Education) neighborhood of Seoul, south of the river.  This area is not far away from some of Seoul's hottest nightlife spots, and it was amazing to see so many young people opting to either enjoy something like this before the clubs, after the clubs, or instead of the clubs.  It's not often, at least back home, that you walk into an open-air intestine restaurant at 1:00 a.m. on a Friday night/Saturday morning and grab the last possible table.  But when you do grab that table, you better believe these are the first 2 dishes to make their way to your table:

Again, you might be wondering what you're looking at: on the left, we have some enticing

raw cow liver (소 간), and on the right, we have some interesting looking, albiet absolutely

bland, stomach lining (소 위 내벽).  Best to fry the liver, and just try to stomach the...stomach.

Good to see some greens on the table to cool off all of this talk of meat for the time

being.  Finely chopped and coated with crushed peppers, they sweeten things up a bit.

After raising our voices a few times over the constant chatter around us, Catarina and I flagged down a waitress and ordered plenty of cow insides and soju to make us happy for the next hour.  Within seconds, it seemed, intestines arrived and the waitress began cutting them apart.  Before you have any sudden thoughts about what lies inside, remember that they've certainly been treated and cleaned.  Add a ridiculous amount of oil and vinegar, onions, peppers, and potatoes to aid the frying and smells, and you'd never know what you're about to put in your mouth:

Stupid good.  You know it's finished, according to Catarina and other Koreans, when

it starts to squeak, not only in the pan, but in your teeth (not unlike cheese curds,

my fellow Wisconsin folks!).

Of course, over any late-night meal beyond 12:00 a.m. (or beyond noon, for that matter, it certainly seems on th weekends), one must crack a bottle or ten of soju for the occasion:

I either look like I've had enough or none at all.  Or that I'm

smuggling ping pong balls in my cheeks.  Anyway, there's 

the mandatory bottle of soju.

Catarina's a happy camper, too!  I think she was still a little shocked at how much I 

enjoyed the taste of all this fine mess...

There you have it, folks.  I'm hoping, for those of you in Korea and questioning the adventurousness of your palate, to encourage you to try some of this stuff, if I haven't already!  Believe me, add some great company, a bustling atmosphere, plenty of spicy sauces, oil, and vegetables, a giant frying pan and some soju, and you might get around to trying some ridiculous things.  I'm hoping, for those of you back home or elsewhere, that I can help educate you about some of the stranger, cooler, more delicious foods there are to be had here in Korea.  I'll try anything once, and I believe everyone should!  Thanks for checking out this week's installment of...Korean Food Spotlight!

Thanks, as always, for reading, folks.  Drop me a message or comment on Facebook, and keep checking in for updates.  Lots of love to all of you back home, and lots of love to those of you sharing the Korean experience with me as well.

-Sam Sam