Thanks to an oblique reference in an old episode of Six Feet Under several weeks ago, we realized we’ve been neglecting an entire genus of Asian cuisine: Korean Barbeque.
Phylum: Food
Class: Cuisine
Order: Asian Cuisine
Family: Korean Cuisine
Genus: Korean Barbeque
When Nan was working in Midtown Atlanta back in the early ‘80s, she and her co-workers would make an occasional trip to a nearby Korean restaurant. I joined her for lunch one day, but it was so long ago neither of us can remember what we ate, other than the fearsome… Kimchi! We haven’t encountered Korean cuisine since.
The Six Feet Under episode set a couple of brief scenes in a Korean Barbeque place and it piqued our interest. Google directed us to KoBa, located in Gumbo Flats, about forty miles from our place. KoBa is apparently the pre-eminent Korean Barbeque restaurant in the St. Louis area. From the outside it looked like a typical upscale American eatery. When we got inside, it was a seat yourself operation, which was surprising, since even Steak ‘n Shake tells you where to sit these days. The place was hopping, and we didn’t see any place to settle, but one of the staff invited us to grab chairs at one end of a partially occupied table. It looked like everyone was hitting the buffet. I asked the staffer if they were serving barbeque as well and she assured us they were. As we sat down, she handed us menus and explained that our only choice was buffet or barbeque. We decided on a seafood combo for Nan and spicy pork bulgogi for me.
As we waited for the server to return and take our orders, Nan looked around and realized we were the only European-Americans in the place. We hoped this boded well for KoBa’s authenticity. We also realized there was only one table of people barbequing and they were so far away that we couldn’t see what they were doing. There wasn’t going to be anyone for us to observe and model our behavior on.
The server took our orders and we asked her if she was going to do the cooking. She said she was. It was difficult to communicate with her since we were surrounded by what appeared to be some sort of children’s party and the noise was at the Chuck E. Cheese level. There was presumably a grill of some sort under the stainless steel cover set into the table between us. The access plate had 11 lines of instructions, all in Korean script with no English translation, so we weren’t about to mess with it.
The server arrived with a half-dozen little bowls of banchan, a plate of lettuce leaves, and two sauces. The banchan bowls contained red beans, macaroni salad, pickled seaweed, broccoli, bean sprouts, and the dreaded… kimchi! The server fluttered her hands at the lettuce and said something about it being OK to eat, and whisked off again, leaving us looking at each other over the banchan. The presumed grill was still cold.
Nan and Banchan
We unwrapped our utensils and found a fork, a set of chopsticks, and a long-handled spoon (presumably for helping yourself to shared banchan when you dine with someone you’re not married to). The utensils were all made out of metal, even the chopsticks. Since the grill was still cold and we didn’t have anything to guide our behavior, we started putting the various banchan on the lettuce leaves, rolling them up like big lettuce burritos, and eating them. We’d been working our way through the banchan for about ten minutes when another server came to our table and told us that we would have to wait a very long time for the seafood combo and would we like something else? Nan ordered the chicken.
At that point, the server came back, removed the cover from our grill and ignited it (it was some sort of gas grill). Just as I was expounding about how I thought it would work (“I think we’ll just cook a couple of pieces at a time, eat them, and cook a couple more, just like fondue.”), our server showed up with a plate full of pork and a plate full of chicken, dumped both plates on the grill all at once, and whisked away again.
Nan’s chicken looked just like chicken, but my pork was a little surprising. It was cut into thin strips and raw, as expected, but it was covered with a thick reddish sauce the color and consistency of American barbeque sauce (this was the “spicy” aspect). Instead of grilling the pork, it was actually going to cook in the sauce. This didn’t appeal to me, since the pork didn’t char on the grill, but instead sort of boiled in the sauce, like stew meat. The sauce did caramelize a little and the flavor was fine, but it wasn’t the grilled-meat experience I was looking for. Our server came back with a pair of kitchen shears and cut up the chicken into bite-sized pieces, and it grilled up just fine. We were given small bowls of steamed rice to accompany the meat.
Hot Korean Barbeque Grill Action
Of course, one of the first things we did when we got home was Google Korean barbeque protocol. I learned you’re supposed to tear small pieces of lettuce from the leaf and wrap bits of meat in it, not make big lettuce burritos with your banchan. Making a big lettuce burrito with your banchan is apparently the equivalent of standing on your table and shouting “I have no idea what I’m doing!” Plenty of reasonable people take exception to this rule, or any “food rule” for that matter, but the big lettuce burrito wasn’t really very satisfactory. You got a lot of lettuce and very little filling (the banchan kept falling out), and trying to eat it was quite messy.
Bottom line? We’ll try Korean barbeque again, but we’ll look for a place closer than Gumbo Flats (even though I love that name). I’ll order beef galbi or plain non-spicy bulgogi, and I won’t make big lettuce burritos any more.
- Poppa
For real. You thought I was kidding?
The entrance to our street. I couldn’t even take pictures of the empty street without being chased away.
There were police and Secret Service cars stashed in every nook and cranny.
The canine squad was on the job. (These particular canines were civilians.)
And the crazies were out in force. These two Obama supporters on their way to their $250 seats in the ballroom were trying to look nonchalant while they stood next to the Tea Party crowd.
This is as close as I got to Obama. If I’d focused on the woman’s camera I would have gotten a better picture.
Flash Fried Baby Artichoke Hearts with chipotle aioli & sweet thai chili sauce.
Maple-Sherry glazed scallops with compressed honeydew, brown sugar-cured duroc bacon and spiced pumpkin seeds.
There were hundreds of law enforcement officers of all types spamming the neighborhood. I overheard someone say the rest of the city must be on the honor system.
We hung out on our balcony after the speeches were over, hoping to see some notables. We did get to see Claire McCaskill as she thanked the police outside the banquet hall.
And then Obama made his exit, driving the wrong way on a one-way street for what it’s worth.
While we were hanging over the balcony, I noticed an odd piece of equipment parked in front of our building. It looked like a large 8 ball.
It WAS a large 8 ball.
Based on my quick internet research, I decided it was a TCV, a Total Containment Vessel. You find a bomb, drop it in the ball, slam the hatch shut, and hope the ball can contain the explosion.
