tales from Korea

Special meals are worth special trips. This particular trip was to the East coast of Korea, outside of Seoul in the Gyeonggi-do region close to the ever-growing city of Incheon. There is an area famous not just for its delicious shellfish, but also the manner in which you can get it: Unlimited and grilled on a BBQ. You wouldn’t think it was possible to get unlimited shellfish, this type of food is usually mighty expensive, but as we got to the main strip with the restaurants it started to make sense why it was being offered. The reputation of this particular area brings a lot of people over, and that means more restaurants setting up – competition is rife and they’ll go to great lengths to get your into their place.

Coming into the town there is a man, or a lady, standing outside each establishment trying to flag cars down and convince them to try their place over their neighbours’. Luckily for us, the choice had been made already as Jayeon’s mum had picked out a place that was recommended online. We parked and headed upstairs; the place was very simple, wooden tables with a hole cut out for the bucket of hot coals, plastic chairs and no décor on the walls. The staff handed us two rather unexpected (to me anyway) tools – Pairs of gloves and a large blue plastic bucket. What exactly am I suppose to do with these? I hope I don’t have to pick my meal out of a fish tank. Luckily that was not that case. The gloves are for handling the shells and the bucket for throwing them into.

We tucked in to a load of different shellfish, some huge, some tiny. Some were salty, some were meaty, some had little taste and some too much. It was an interesting experience; again something Korea does well – making a shellfish meal a simple but delicious and no-frills experience. After we had stuffed ourselves silly, we took a walk down the harbour and market area, and I got too see the slightly darker side of this district. There was a pier lined with Spartan, vinyl cabins with smoke chimneys occupied by older independent fish merchants. There was a mark of desperation on many of their faces. Some chopped, piled and hacked all manner of fish and shells in a kind of solemn contemplation. We passed one woman who proclaimed she has had no sales that day, and begged to buy something. Jayeon’s mom paid 5000 won for some Oysters, she took her measuring cup and filled it to the brim, but continued to stack the overflowing cup and eventually poured it into the plastic bag. Her hands were scarred, worn, with thin fingers and blistered fingertips. She asked me to call her 할머니 (grandmother). The chimneys continued to bellow out an oaky scented smoke, which clung to our clothes for the rest of the day, constantly reminding me of the seeming dichotomy still relevant in Korea today – the division of the hidden traditional ways and the in your face modern capitalism.