hills surrounding Seoul is a popular local pastime.
Mokmyeoksanbang is a traditional mountain
house that serves “man’s size” bibimbap on trays
that diners collect themselves.
Although bibimbap simply means “mixed rice”,
the Korean penchant for accoutrements turns it into an
adventure. At Mokmyeoksanbang, bulgogi beef, rich
with sesame oil, sits atop rice, to which leafy greens,
radishes, mountain mushrooms, bean sprouts, and a
piquant radish kimchi can be added. There’s plenty
of gochujang to add heat and, on the side, bean-sprout
soup and yuja tea, a restorative brew of pulpy citrus
marmalade. But the unexpected highlight of the meal
is a salad made with acorn jelly, an ancient preparation
that owes its development to the mountainous nation’s
abundant oak trees. The silky jelly is covered in spinach
leaves and grated carrot, and a dressing sweet with plum
extract ties it together. Every now and then I find a
chewy bit of cuttlefish. After such an antioxidant-rich
meal, I leave almost ready to conquer the mountain.
Almost, but not quite, because it’s time to see how
an overworked populace loosens the escape valve.S
outh Korea has one of the top OECD
rankings for the average number of hours
worked in a year – that economic miracle
didn’t perform itself – and its people also
drink the most in the world; 13.7 shots of liquor
per week, according to a 2014 study by Euromonitor,
compared with the runner-up, Russia, whose citizens
down only 6.3. Soju, the national liquor derived from
rice, sweet potatoes or other grains and roots, is an
uncomplicated complement to Korean food, especially
grilled meats and, depending on its strength, also
makes for easy drinking after dinner.
There is a host of rituals associated with drinking
soju: swirling and slapping the bottle before pouring
to stir up sediment, never helping yourself to a refill,
and taking a shot to kick things off. (Incredibly, I see
no one I would describe as drunk, either on the
sparkling subway, which is open until midnight, or in
the streets.) A popular drinking hole is Gwangjang,
one of the largest of the city’s many night markets.
Gwangjang was the first permanent market in Seoul
and dates back to 1905. On a rainy evening, hundreds
of people cluster around tiny trestle tables all seemingly
eating the same dish, bindae-tteok, a mung bean
pancake topped with red chillies. “It’s Korean comfort
food,” Sky says, “and good for drinking, because it
absorbs the alcohol.”
In search of perfection in all things, South
Koreans have also mastered the art of mixology, and
consequently I’m never far from a fancy cocktail bar.
One of the most impressive is Charles H. at the Four
Seasons Hotel Seoul. It’s a New York-style speakeasy
bar, which is no coincidence – the bar was designed
by AvroKo, the American architecture firm that helped140 GOURMET TRAVELLER