Chang Korean BBQ: Everybody Loves Bul-Gol-Gi

11th April 2008

"I see you're doing something very interesting," a rather short man in a crown of silver-grey hair said to her.

"Oh, I'm just taking some photos," she said sheepishly, "is it allowed?"

"Normally no," he said with a warm smile on his face, as I smiled to myself, looking down at the menu.

"Would you like to place your orders, sir?" he continued in his Korean-accented English. Perhaps you would like to try our specialty, the BBQ meat selection," waving his hand up and down the first page of the menu, proudly showcasing the already-too-tempting photos.

We heeded his advice with our mouths-watering in hunger as I looked around to survey the decor of the interior.

Located along the junction of Dempsey Hill, Chang Korean BBQ was a brightly lit affair with a traditional Korean touch. Suitably spacious with traditional Korean decor; dining areas lined with straw floor-mats, down to the authenticity in the utensils, Chang's was the most authentic Korean dining experience that I've stepped into outside of Korea.

Noticing that at least half the in-house crowd looked Korean, I turned to her and said informatively, "I think that if you see a lot of Koreans in a Korean restaurant, then it has to mean that the food is good," building up my own anticipation with the same sentence.

The traditional barrage of side dishes were laid out before us, ranging from the rudimentary Kimchi platter down to the more unexpected dishes such as freshly-sliced onions. I counted the total number of side dishes and realised that it totaled up to 9.

Complimentary Nine

"So is it true that in Korea, they eat Kimchi even for breakfast?" she asked, as she savoured the first piece of Kimchi.

"Well, I think so. From what I know, they serve Kimchi with EVERY meal." I replied. "But I think Chang is really generous."

"Normally, in Korea, or at least in the places that I dined in, they tend to serve 6 side dishes, sometimes only 3; but yeah, normally its these 6," I said, as I hovered my chopsticks over 6 of the 9 dishes.

The side dishes were tasty enough to get my non-believing stamp of approval. While not exactly a fan of fermented stuff (understatement), the Kimchi was authentic enough to match those in Korea despite being slightly less spicy; perhaps to attune itself to the more delicate local tastebuds.

A waiter stood at the table-side to lay out the platters of raw meat before us prior to starting the fires of the charcoal grill. Once appropriately warm, he started to place the slabs of raw pork onto the grill to cook it atop the steady flame.

Raw to Ready

Slightly taken aback, I turned to her and said, "You know, one thing I noticed about Korean food is that somehow, they seem to believe in you doing a bit of work to earn your keep before you actually get to eat."

She raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"I mean, almost all their dishes require you to do something to it prior to eating. Like mixing the Bi-bim-bap or even the Nang-Myeon, down to cooking the meat in this, the Kar-bi; almost all the Korean dishes that I've eaten seem to require you to do bit of work," I said.

"Then again, maybe its because I was on a rather budget tour that we didn't have people to prepare the food for us," I said smilingly, as the waiter diced up the slab of now-grilled pork belly and placed it on our platters.

I took a bite of the piping hot pork slice, and was pleasantly pleased with the taste of the meat and the quality of the grill. But the real treat came in the form of the second slab of grilled meat, the marinated pork slice.

Full of marinated goodness and bursting with sweet honeyed-sauce, the marinated pork slice brought back all the wonderful memories that I experienced when I first ate the authentic Kar-Bi back in Korea 2 years back.

"So why do you have to eat it with lettuce?" she asked.

"It's just the way it is meant to be eaten, like the Chinese Ginger Chicken. Besides, it just tastes better," I said, as I sucked on the tightly rolled lettuce and pork roll.

"Mmm..." she said, in approval.

Suckers, Literally

"Bul-gol-gi," the waitress said, as she lifted the lid off the hot plate, presenting to us a feast for for the eyes.

Everybody Loves Bul-Gol-Gi

Beef broiled to a tender finish in the centre of a pumpkin, soaked in a pool of mouth-watering stew, my anticipation for the final dish of the night was the highest; hardly surprising, considering the surreal impression it left on me when I savoured an authentic sample of it back in Korea, making it my favourite dish for the entire vacation (with Kar-bi at a close second).

I took a whiff of the sweet aroma emitting from the hot plate, before picking a piece up with my chopsticks. A deadly concoction of the natural saltiness of the broiled-to-tenderness beef with the sweetness of the pumpkin, the Bul-Gol-Gi proved to be slightly sweeter than what I remembered, but still heavenly all the same. My taste buds erupted in joy at the rediscovery of a taste long-forgotten and I was instantly reminded why this was my all-time favourite Korean dish.

"Try it," I beckoned her, feeding her a slice of the tender-beef.

"Wow, its REALLY good," she said, once again convinced of the wonders of beef.

"Don't you find it difficult to hold the chopsticks?" I asked her halfway through the meal, with my hands obviously cramped from holding the authentic, flat, silver, metallic chopsticks.

"Not really," she said. "It was a little hard to pick up initially, but after a while, its just like holding any other pair of chopsticks."

"Well, I find it harder to hold than the normal chopsticks," I replied, still fiddling them in an attempt to find the best way to hold them.

"That's because you are not holding them correctly," she chided me. "Can you even grab the corn? At its breadth, not its length?"

"Of course," I said, demonstrating the finesse that I have accumulated with my chopsticks despite the fundamental posture error.

"Not bad," she said.

"Of course, I can even grab this," I said, attempting to grab the bean curd.

"This one will surely break when you grab it," she said.

She was right, I broke it into smaller halves with each iteration of my repeated fiddling. Finally I just poked my chopsticks into it from the centre and lifted it up, giving it the impression that I had grabbed it.

"Smart," she said, cheekily.

"You know what I really wanna grab?" I asked.

"What?" she answered.

I grabbed the lone pork rib off the charcoal grill and performed an all-too-familiar act... an act that commemorated the start of our beautiful memories...

Smoked-Rib, Literally

I'm Quite Sure that Says "Chang"