This month Featured Writer Steve Miller has been cruising the streets of Seoul, looking for some of the best Street Food to share with readers. This month he’s introduced topokki, bindaetteok, and theTornado Potato. As his series concludes, Steve changes things up a little to take a look at something many Koreans enjoy on a hot summer day while strolling through the streets: ice cream.

Now it should be pointed out that ice cream is not literally considered a Korean Street Food; however, some of the best presentation of this frozen treat does appear on Korean streets. Most notably on the streets of Myeongdong where many head to enjoy the area’s shopping.

Research conducted by the BBC, indicates that ice cream may have first appeared in China around 200 BCE. Another report claims Emperor Nero of Rome (37–68 CE) had ice brought from the mountains and combined it with fruit toppings. This latter treat is very similar to Korean patbingsoo. However, ice cream as we know it today appears to have originated in France somewhere in the 17th and 18th Century with the first ice cream machine being patented in the 19th Century. Regardless of when, where, or how it was created, billions around the world agree – it’s fantastic.

In Korea, ice cream served up in cones on the street is fairly common. However, it is rare to see cones poured as large as this:

Getting a cone this size is a special treat – and one that is surprisingly affordable – only W2000. Most venders serving up this style of soft serve cone offer only chocolate and vanilla. However, on this visit to Myeongdong, I was able to find a vendor that served up four different varieties: vanilla, choco-vanilla, choco-green tea, and choco-strawberry. The choco-vanilla was the most popular combination with choco-strawberry coming in second.

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This month Steve Miller is exploring some of the tasty treats made available on the streets of Korea. Steve had a difficult time narrowing down the food selected for this series, since Korea as so many options. This week he’s featuring a foreign food presented with a twist and first served up in Korea: The Tornado Potato (회오리감자).

Tornado Potatoes made their first appearance in Korea between 2005-2007. They are made by either skewering the whole potato and cutting with a specialized spiral slicer, or by first cutting the potato and then skewering it. The latter method is often employed when adding a sausage. The potato is spread evenly along a skewer and deep-fried. The cooking process fuses the potato to the skewer and holds it in place. When it’s served to the customer, the tornado potato is often sprinkled with seasoning. Common flavors are cheese, chili, and barbecue. Sometimes they’re even served with dipping sauces.

Tornado Potatoes were once fairly popular in Seoul, not only being found served up on street corners, but in several of the city’s fried chicken restaurants. However, today it’s a little more difficult finding them. In all my explorations of Seoul, I’ve only come across them in two locations: Myeongdong and Hyehwa. That doesn’t mean you can’t find them elsewhere in Seoul (or around Korea), but they are not as prevalent as other kinds of street foods.

Belgian journalist, Jo Gérard, reports that a 1781 family manuscript recounts potatoes being deep-fried prior to 1680 in the Meuse valley: “The inhabitants of Namur, Andenne, and Dinant, had the custom of fishing in the Meuse for small fish and frying, especially among the poor, but when the river was frozen and fishing became hazardous, they cut potatoes in the form of small fish and put them in a fryer like those here”. [(French) Hugues Henry (2001-08-16) La Frite est-elle belge?. Frites.be. Retrieved on 2012-09-12.; Ilegems, Paul (1993). De Frietkotcultuur (in Dutch). Loempia.]

Some Belgians believe the modern name was introduced when American soldiers arrived in Belgium during World War I. The Americans called them “French Fries” because French was the official language of Belgian Army. It was during this period that fried potatoes began surging in popularity. However, in southern Netherlands fried potatoes are still called Vlaamse Frieten or Flemish fries. [(French) Hugues Henry (2001-08-16) La Frite est-elle belge?. Frites.be. Retrieved on 2012-09-12.]

How to Make French Fries

 Any trip to Korea is absolutely incomplete without dipping under a steamy street-side tent to eat some mystery food, preferably late at night. Street food is extremely popular in Korea. Not in the same way as Twitter-enabled, grilled-cheese food-trucks that are growing with momentum in the U.S., but instead in a much more homey, down-to-earth way. Some foods have their gimmicks, but most of it is classic Korean food.

http://www.gadling.com/2013/01/04/the-kimchi-ite-8-delicious-street-food-dishes-of-south-korea/

]]> http://www.mobilefoodnews.com/2013/01/seoul-kr-the-kimchi-ite-8-delicious-street-food-dishes-of-south-korea/feed/ 0 http://www.mobilefoodnews.com/2012/11/seoul-south-korea-south-korea-an-adventure-in-street-market-food/ http://www.mobilefoodnews.com/2012/11/seoul-south-korea-south-korea-an-adventure-in-street-market-food/#comments Mon, 19 Nov 2012 20:00:06 +0000 MFN Editor #1 http://www.mobilefoodnews.com/?p=32439 By Matt Payne | WashingtonTimes.com

Assorted Shellfish
Photo: Matt Payne

SEOUL SOUTH KOREA – November 10, 2012 - For four days, I’ve been trekking across South Korea exploring the country’s delightfully diverse array of culinary expression. And while bibimbop (veggies, rice, thinly sliced meats and chili paste) and Korean barbeque (thin slices of beef cooked table top)  are the nation’s flagship dishes, it is in the hyper-stimulating markets of Korea that the country’s cuisine truly begins to reveal itself.

From the exotic street food of the Kwangjang Market located in the heart of Seoul to the implausibly fresh seafood of the Jukdo Fish Market in Pohang, even those with the most educated palates will find their imaginations running wild with the varying textures, flavors and temperatures of the fare of this frenetic Asian gem.

JUKDO FISH MARKET

Even with a small cushion, at 6’2″, sitting shoeless on the floor in front of a long table in a tightly packed seafood restaurant located at the Jukdo Market in Pohang is a claustrophobic exercise. But despite my constant readjustment in effort alleviate pressure on my aching legs, I find myself squirming not from discomfort but in guileless anticipation of the fresh multi-course seafood extravaganza that is about to turn me from mild-mannered travel writer to ravenous leviathan.

When I ask the restaurant’s name, the look from the waitress suggests it is without. The menu is written in colorfully smeared Korean characters on a dry erase board on one of the peeling pea colored walls. Next to it, a television plays Korean baseball, capturing the attention of the majority of the clientele, most of whom are male, nursing a bottle of soju deep into the evening.

Three generations of women bustle over boiling pots of seafood soup and rice in an open kitchen in one corner of the one room restaurant.

Crab waiting to be cooked

Just outside of this mom-and-pop shop, which I later learn is called Seong Jin Heotjib, are more than 200 other raw fish stores and restaurants that make up this open air market. The inescapable pulse of the Korean musical sensation “Gangnam-Style” wheezes through various blown speakers. Scale-covered purveyors clean their catch amid giant blue, halogen-lit tanks abounding with live mollusk, mussels, oysters, squid, octopus, crustaceans and fish otherworldly enough to make even George Lucas recoil.

The meal begins with a giant tray covered in conch, mussels, oysters, soft shell crab, crab legs, sea snails, sea food salad filled with crustaceans unknown, roe, abalone, octopus, freshly sliced persimmon, and a rose for color. Served with a side of freshly made soy sauce and wasabi, the meal is a joyful exercise in extraction and exaltation and is only just beginning.

Prawn on a bed of salt

Next, the waitress brings a selection of large raw prawn. We each select the ones we would like barbequed. She takes them to the fire outside, where they will be cooked on a bed of sea salt in foil over an open flame. As soon as she is gone, an assortment of sashimi arrives. I ask what kind of fish it is and the waitress shrugs her shoulders. “Fresh. Caught today,” she says.

Having earned my trust with the shellfish course and fortifying myself with a generous serving of soju, I dive in. She tells me to save room. The soup, rice and the prawn are still to come.

The fish soup is a fiery, fishy red broth with chunks of seafood, vegetables and a fish head floating on top. We cleanse our palate with a bowl of sticky rice and then it is time for prawn, served in their respective beds of salt. They are the size of lobsters and better than any lobster I’ve ever eaten.

By the time we are finished, the table looks like a battlefield covered with shells, scales, tails and bones. My muscles no longer ache and the soju has been as warming as the food was filling. As I wander back through the market, I note again the men covered in blood and scales, the jettisoning squid, the languid octopus, the menacing eel, the sea slugs, the crabs, the conch, and all the other indescribable but delectable creatures, and think… despite their off-putting exterior… they look delicious.

And with a last fleeting glance, I’m off to the next stop.

 KWANGJANG MARKET

Stacks of Mayak Gimbap

No matter where my over-stimulated eyes try to wander, whether to the amorous Korean couple feasting on mung bean and shrimp pancakes, or to the cook, a short, terse woman, as she hovers over a pan of tiny whole fish as the snap in boiling oil, I can’t help but stare at the pig snout that sits in front of me as I wait for my next dish. While there are many culinary conquests in this market, something about pig nose makes me shudder…. I try to focus on my first dish: soft rice, mashed up into balls and covered in chili sauce almost hot enough to serve as a distraction.

Moments later, the terse woman sets in front of me a firm, but chewy rice cake covered in hot chili sauce and a Mayak Gimbap which is loosely translated to mean “Addictive” or “Drug.” It is warm rice, carrots, radish, and crabmeat wrapped in seaweed. While this sounds similar to the standard roll found at any corner sushi joint in any city, when prepared in fresh at this bustling nighttime market, this roll is anything but…

pig intestines stuffed with glass noodles

I bite through the brittle seaweed into the rice, soft and warm, and then into crunch of the carrot before finally getting to the fresh crabmeat.  The flavors dance with the chili paste from the rice cake I had just finished, and as the flavors continue to blend, I barely even notice the pig snout staring at me through its nostrils. I savor the roll a moment more, thank the cook, and move through the cavernous, chaotic, night market.

Small trucks and scooters share the narrow, indoor thoroughfare with pedestrians browsing the cases of each of the local vendors. Someone mentions Sundae. And while a sundae sounds delicious, I’ve been in Korea long enough to know that they are not talking about ice cream and fudge.

Sundae is steamed pig intestine stuffed with glass noodles, the market favorite. Though daunting in its appearance and earthy in fragrance, the meat is chewy and its strong flavor yields to the soft noodles (sometimes rice) and a spicy, chili-based tteobokki sauce. It is often served with pig liver and/or heart.

While it could be a meal in itself, I take only a few bites and press on.

There are stands everywhere, each with its own specialty. There is yukhoe, a beef tartare mixed with pear slices and egg yolk, and there is Kalmandu, a brothy hot noodle soup with dumplings cooked in anchovy stock. Maeuntang is a spicy fish stew boiled with an ambiguous recipe but usually is made up of assorted veggies and fish cooked with spices hot enough to make you sweat.

Open kitchen at Kwangjang Market

There are the surprisingly tender chicken feet, of course covered in hot sauce, and everywhere you go there is Makgeolli rice wine, served chilled and usually in tin cups. Traditionally this milky elixir, similar in taste to sake, is taken in shots, and as my experience has proven, can disappear very quickly.

After a broad sampling of some of Kwangjang Market’s most delicious and curious items, it is time to settle down in one of the restaurants on the market’s perimeter. The restaurant, like most places, is packed. Predictably, within minutes, Gangnam style plays and diners do bashful, diminished versions of the dance.

Men crowd around televisions playing Korean baseball, and unlike in the Korean countryside coast, here, I get a chair. After roaming the market, to sit is a relief, and while I’m getting full, this place claims to be among the best. So good, in fact, that I don’t even order. Food just begins to appear.

The waitress first arrives with the most popular item in the entire market, and besides kimchi, as far as I can tell, in the entire country. Bindaetteok is mung beans (similar to garbanzo beans) that are mashed, mixed with various combinations of vegetables, pork, or seafood, then fried. The texture is more hash brown than pancake, but either way, they are delicious and the variations are endless.

Bindaetteok, aka mung bean pancakes

Next is a plate full of jeon, which is similar to Japanese tempura. Shrimp, crab, carrots, mushrooms, onions, and meatballs are dipped into a sweet flour-based batter then fried. You can order specific dishes, but in the spirit of all things food, I try every last one and go so far as to get seconds of the crab. Each greasy, unhealthy piece is an expression of fried goodness.

By meal’s end, I am exhausted. I exit the restaurant once again into the chaos of the market, narrowly missing a scooter rushing down the corridor. I notice that the pig snout from my first booth is missing. Someone has clearly taken it home for dinner. I am thankful that no part of the pig was wasted and more grateful still that it wasn’t me who had to eat it. Something about a snout I just couldn’t stomach… even if it is just pork.

But beyond that, Korean markets are among the finest.

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Who needs a truck when you have a cart? The street carts in Jongno have been putting up some original stuff these days and you could spend a whole afternoon munching and walking along the way. Here are some of the more interesting carts I have encountered.

Dragon Bread stuffed with Bulgogi (a tad sweet)  or Sweet Potato and Walnut

Bubble Tea

Donuts and Corn

Koma Kimbap

Sausage and Hotdogs