MOTHER STILL KNOWS BEST-The Korean at Kunjip Feels Just Like Home--in Seoul (NY PRESS)
As my mother never fails to tell me, those who like soup will catch a good husband. Maybe back in Korea, but it’s a little bit trickier here in New York. Luckily, for those in search of a mate, the soups at Kunjip give you plenty of excuses to test this old adage for yourself.
Whenever I crave a home-cooked Korean meal like the kind my grandmother used to make, I get myself to Kunjip, a small traditionally decorated Korean restaurant on West 32nd Street. Young Korean transplants, with their artsy glasses and Burberry scarves, pack the place at all hours of the night, so clearly I’m not the only one who finds a taste of home.
One reason all us Korean (or half Korean) kids can’t resist the place is the banchan—the bevy of free dishes that crowd the table at the beginning of the meal. A cross between condiments and side dishes, you nibble on them before the entrees arrive (but as my mother has also told me a million times, don’t eat the spicy stuff on an empty stomach). You also eat them with your meal to keep things interesting.
Most Korean restaurants in America serve three or four dishes of banchan. Kunjip serves seven, including a stone bowl of boiling hot steamed egg topped with slivers of scallion. A good rule of thumb to keep in mind: The more authentic the restaurant, the more banchan they serve.
On my most recent visit to Kunjip, an exciting constellation of little dishes graced the table: one with dried squid coated with a sweet chili sauce; another with sesame seasoned summer squash; a third with thinly shaven lotus root in a sweet soy sauce marinade; and another with clear noodles sautéed with vegetables. Two others filled with kimchi—Napa cabbage and turnip kimchi—reminded me of the kind my grandmother used to make sitting on newspapers on the floor of our kitchen.
She used to mix it all together: salted cabbage with red chili powder, sugar, fish sauce, garlic and scallions in a large plastic tub wearing yellow kitchen gloves. I always liked to eat it within the first week because it was still sweet and crunchy. Most restaurants serve their kimchi sour and fermented, but kimchi at Kunjip is fresh and, therefore, pleasantly sweet.
After sampling Kunjip’s particularly tasty banchan, you won’t be surprised that the rest of the menu is equally enjoyable. For starters, try the pa jun, a large egg, scallion, and squid pancake that you dip into soy sauce ($8.95), or the jap che, a dish of translucent noodles mixed with vegetables, shredded beef and egg ($6.95). Several excellent varieties of the crowd-pleasing bibimbob are available. Bibimbob features a large bowl of rice with a colorful topping of seasoned vegetables and a fried egg. The gobdol bibimbob ($11.95) comes in a piping hot stone bowl, which makes everything sizzle together. The result is a thin layer of crispy brown rice at the bottom which is a great textural contrast.
To switch things up, go for the sanche bibimbob ($9.95). It comes in a metal bowl and is topped with fresh lettuce and room temperature vegetables, making it a good spring or summer dish. To give it a kick, mix in a dollop of red gochujang, a spicy sweet sauce that’s often called Korean ketchup.
The duk mandoo guk ($9.95), a dumpling and rice cake soup with an eggy broth, is a simple, soothing dish that is perfect for first timers, as is the dolsot sulungtang ($7.95), a mild beef broth filled with noodles and pieces of boiled beef. The daegu jiri ($12.95), a clear fish broth with tofu, cod, turnip, clams may sound like it has a little too much going on but, couple with its subtle smoky flavor, the dish proves both refreshing and substantial.
Probably more than anything, the deonjang chigae ($8.95) epitomizes down-home Korean cooking: A hearty miso stew filled with tofu, clams, zucchini and greens. If you’re yearning for that mouth tingling heat, order one of the spicier soups like daegu maewoon tang ($12.95), a fiery fish soup, or yook gae jang ($9.95), a bright red beef soup. It’s not the kind of spiciness that incites panic—but it’ll certainly get your nose running.
As the table is cleared, the waitress brings out small cups of soo jeong gwa, a sweet cinnammon punch. While it won’t do much for your garlic breath, it’s a refreshing way to cool your mouth off and end the meal.
My Mom always says that Koreans are addicted to Korean food. If she’s right, then the secret’s in the spice. But then again, trying to get a husband while steeped in the scents and smells of Kunjip may make it much harder to snag that hubbie. So choose your addictions wisely.
Kunjip
9 W. 32nd St. (betw. 5th Ave. & Broadway)
212-216-9487
Whenever I crave a home-cooked Korean meal like the kind my grandmother used to make, I get myself to Kunjip, a small traditionally decorated Korean restaurant on West 32nd Street. Young Korean transplants, with their artsy glasses and Burberry scarves, pack the place at all hours of the night, so clearly I’m not the only one who finds a taste of home.
One reason all us Korean (or half Korean) kids can’t resist the place is the banchan—the bevy of free dishes that crowd the table at the beginning of the meal. A cross between condiments and side dishes, you nibble on them before the entrees arrive (but as my mother has also told me a million times, don’t eat the spicy stuff on an empty stomach). You also eat them with your meal to keep things interesting.
Most Korean restaurants in America serve three or four dishes of banchan. Kunjip serves seven, including a stone bowl of boiling hot steamed egg topped with slivers of scallion. A good rule of thumb to keep in mind: The more authentic the restaurant, the more banchan they serve.
On my most recent visit to Kunjip, an exciting constellation of little dishes graced the table: one with dried squid coated with a sweet chili sauce; another with sesame seasoned summer squash; a third with thinly shaven lotus root in a sweet soy sauce marinade; and another with clear noodles sautéed with vegetables. Two others filled with kimchi—Napa cabbage and turnip kimchi—reminded me of the kind my grandmother used to make sitting on newspapers on the floor of our kitchen.
She used to mix it all together: salted cabbage with red chili powder, sugar, fish sauce, garlic and scallions in a large plastic tub wearing yellow kitchen gloves. I always liked to eat it within the first week because it was still sweet and crunchy. Most restaurants serve their kimchi sour and fermented, but kimchi at Kunjip is fresh and, therefore, pleasantly sweet.
After sampling Kunjip’s particularly tasty banchan, you won’t be surprised that the rest of the menu is equally enjoyable. For starters, try the pa jun, a large egg, scallion, and squid pancake that you dip into soy sauce ($8.95), or the jap che, a dish of translucent noodles mixed with vegetables, shredded beef and egg ($6.95). Several excellent varieties of the crowd-pleasing bibimbob are available. Bibimbob features a large bowl of rice with a colorful topping of seasoned vegetables and a fried egg. The gobdol bibimbob ($11.95) comes in a piping hot stone bowl, which makes everything sizzle together. The result is a thin layer of crispy brown rice at the bottom which is a great textural contrast.
To switch things up, go for the sanche bibimbob ($9.95). It comes in a metal bowl and is topped with fresh lettuce and room temperature vegetables, making it a good spring or summer dish. To give it a kick, mix in a dollop of red gochujang, a spicy sweet sauce that’s often called Korean ketchup.
The duk mandoo guk ($9.95), a dumpling and rice cake soup with an eggy broth, is a simple, soothing dish that is perfect for first timers, as is the dolsot sulungtang ($7.95), a mild beef broth filled with noodles and pieces of boiled beef. The daegu jiri ($12.95), a clear fish broth with tofu, cod, turnip, clams may sound like it has a little too much going on but, couple with its subtle smoky flavor, the dish proves both refreshing and substantial.
Probably more than anything, the deonjang chigae ($8.95) epitomizes down-home Korean cooking: A hearty miso stew filled with tofu, clams, zucchini and greens. If you’re yearning for that mouth tingling heat, order one of the spicier soups like daegu maewoon tang ($12.95), a fiery fish soup, or yook gae jang ($9.95), a bright red beef soup. It’s not the kind of spiciness that incites panic—but it’ll certainly get your nose running.
As the table is cleared, the waitress brings out small cups of soo jeong gwa, a sweet cinnammon punch. While it won’t do much for your garlic breath, it’s a refreshing way to cool your mouth off and end the meal.
My Mom always says that Koreans are addicted to Korean food. If she’s right, then the secret’s in the spice. But then again, trying to get a husband while steeped in the scents and smells of Kunjip may make it much harder to snag that hubbie. So choose your addictions wisely.
Kunjip
9 W. 32nd St. (betw. 5th Ave. & Broadway)
212-216-9487
posted by Lisa Gross at 10:06 PM
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