"Korean food" news and stories

The Korean Peninsula has gained a certain reputation for firepower, whether in the form of mortar shells from the North or the mouth-searing, "dare-you-to-eat-it" offerings at most Korean take-out places. But a couple of recent video and TV offerings are inviting us to get to know the other side of Korea, the fun-food side.

Marja Vongerichten, the wife of international super-chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten, is entering the spotlight in her own right as the star of an upcoming 13-part series on PBS. The Kimchi Chronicles documents Marja's culinary travels through her native homeland, which, according to The New York Times, she left at the age of three to be adopted by a couple in Virginia.

Here she is sampling four-year-old kimchi, or diving for crabs, or touring what appears to be a veritable island of green tea. Her husband is often at her side, and in the preview clip, it's funny to see the head of an international restaurant empire relegated to the role of awkward diplomat, quizzically listening for the translator's cues and, in one scene, committing the faux pas of sipping the green tea before properly appreciating its aroma.

• It's an east-meets-west love story: tacos, Korean-style.
• A different east (the Ottoman) meets a different west (London) as chef Silvena Rowe takes over the May Fair Hotel restaurant.
• When you're mixing drinks, adding water doesn't always mean watered-down taste. Chemistry lesson to follow.
• The Lion receives but one star -- and that's not counting chef John DeLucie.
• Meanwhile, the Commodore "feels like the bar next to the bus station, only without the daytime drinkers and sticky floor." And that's a good thing.

In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.

Over the last few years, Korean barbecue has gained fresh relevance in the United States. Whether served on hot dog buns in Manhattan, tortillas in Los Angeles or rice in Korean restaurants around the country, the sweet, oniony flavors of bulgoki, japchae and galbi are incredibly delicious and increasingly popular.

When I was a kid, bulgoki (also spelled bulgogi, pulgoki, pulgogi and any number of other ways) was a staple in my house. My parents, who lived in Korea before I was born, loved the stuff and would cook it on an electric griddle at our dinner table. As my sisters and I got older, we got involved in the fun; some of my first cooking experiences involved flipping bulgoki with a pair of bamboo tongs.

I've played with amounts and ingredients, but my mother's basic bulgoki recipe is fantastic. In fact, my only major change is in the dipping sauce: while my parents used light soy sauce with a sprinkle of pepper, I prefer a more traditional garlic/vinegar sauce, which I've included below.

Get the recipe for bulgoki after the jump.

I'm a huge fan of Korean food. It's spicy and so full of fresh, vibrant ingredients that I always feel superhealthy after eating it. So when I heard that a gigantic bowl of bibimbap would be served on the stretch of New York City's West 32 Street better known as Korea Way last Sunday I dropped everything and hopped on the subway. For those unfamiliar with Korean cuisine, bibimbap is a dish consisting of rice mixed with a wide array of ingredients. There's usually plenty of veggies, a bit of meat and there's always gojujang, a fiery chili pepper paste. The version that was served up to a hungry horde that day is known as Jeonju bibimbap. Before mixing the ingredients were laid out in a stunning visual display that used five colors (green, white, red, black and yellow) and resembled the Korean flag. The 507-pound bowl of bibimbap contained 19 ingredients and took 27 people 43 hours to prepare.

As far as I'm concerned, my home borough of Queens is the food capital of New York City, Manhattan be damned. Well, that's not entirely true, but with the exception of Japanese, Queens is the best place in the city to find authentic Asian cuisine ranging from Nepalese and South Indian to Northern Chinese and Korean. Lately I've been asking my Korean dry cleaner for restaurant recommendations. When I dropped off some pants Saturday afternoon and told him that I had a bit too much to drink the prior night, he said I should head over to a spot in Flushing called Budnamujip for a steaming hot bowl of sahm-gyae tahng. He assured me that the ginseng-infused chicken soup would help sweat out my hangover and make me "strong." No doubt this was a backhanded reference to ginseng's reputed effect on male virility.

When I arrived at Budnamujip it was filled with noisy revelers who were well into their cups and would probably be finding themselves in need of some sahm-gyae tahng the next day. When the waitress brought over the bowl it was still boiling. It soon became clear this was no mere chicken and ginseng soup. For one thing, it contained an entire young chicken. The cavity was filled with rice and all sorts of other goodies. The first sip of the blazing hot broth was a tad bland, though this was readily fixed with a few shakes of pepper and a bit of coarse sea salt. As I dug in all sorts of treasures emerged: whole jujubes, or dae chu; bits of chestnut; several cloves of garlic; and a piece of ginseng. By the time I finished picking the chicken clean skin and all and slurping up every last bit of broth, I felt like a new man. So new that I had paranormal abilities and clearly envisioned an article on sahm-gyae tahng's restorative powers by Elaine "One Pot" Louie.

When I asked a gent at the next table whether sahm-gyae tahng, was good for curing hangovers he nodded and laughed. Then he held out his arm with his fist raised in the air and said "makes you strong." If you'd like to try making your own sahm-gyae tahng, here's a great recipe.