Monsoons, Fried Chicken, and Baby Octopi
The first thing that I saw? Rain.
Lots––and lots––of rain.
The minute I stepped out of my quarantine facility, I was greeted by shreds of rain––much different from the sunny, breezy summer weather I fantasized about from the comfort of my quarantine room.
Little did I know, that weather was about to become the reality of probably what will be the rest of my stay here. It’s currently monsoon season in South Korea, which basically means that the minute you feel the slightest droplet of rain on your cheek, you better run to the nearest convenience store and buy yourself an umbrella––because, in just a matter of minutes, you’re about to get hit by heavy, heavy rain.
Trust me, I didn’t know that the most frequent item I would buy in my travels would be an umbrella, and I’ve bought three so far in my five days here (and probably counting). I forgot to pack an umbrella in my bag again today, so you can bet today’s going to mark my fourth purchase.
When it’s not raining, the weather is hot: the humid type of hot. As a Southern Californian (in which California is a literal desert) who is used to drier heat, it’s definitely been taking some getting used to. But, luckily for me, Korea is the perfect destination to buy nice, airy clothes to combat the summer heat.
Under the beating sun, you’ll find many native Koreans not wearing shorts, a tank top, and flip flops, but long pants, long sleeves, and sneakers––not that the former isn’t common, but many people definitely choose to dress like the latter. While pants in the western world usually entail denim and sweatpants, South Korea’s pants include material that is light, airy, and is perfect for anyone who likes wearing pants but want to stay cool (like me).
And what’s even more convenient is that you can find these trendy pieces of clothing almost anywhere you look. When you go underground to take the subway, you’ll see clothing stores everywhere along with restaurants and small snacks for your commute. The subway stop is definitely not just a subway in Korea; it’s its own ecosystem.
Other than the underground subway, you can also find clothes in popular tourist attracts like Myungdong (명동) or Hongdae (홍대). Myungdong is famous for its street food and typically has lines upon lines of food stands along its winding roads. My friends and I ventured there this week and ate at a restaurant called bb.q Chicken.
If you know anything about modern Korean food culture, you would know that Korea is famous for their fried chicken. Honestly, I don’t know what’s technically different about the way Korea prepares fried chicken from what America does; all I know is that it’s amazing. Korea is especially well-known for their yangnyum (양념) chicken, which is basically marinated fried chicken. This delicious dish is typically served with beer (a traditional combination Koreans call chimaek, 치맥, or literally chicken beer) and radish (an amazing palette cleanser).
Bb.q Chicken is a famous international fried chicken chain that I’ve actually eaten at before in both California (my home state) and Boston. Going in, I didn’t have much expectation from what I was used to––especially since my table was ordering chicken and side dishes that I’ve always tried before. We ordered Set B on the menu, which consisted of the original fried chicken, yangnyum chicken, and cheeseling: a piece of fried chicken coated in cheese powder (trust me, it tastes much better than how it sounds). On the side, we got cheese sticks, cheese balls, and french fries.
The verdict? You guessed it: It was incredible. When it comes to fried chicken chains, you usually face a trade off; you either get really amazing breading but cheap chicken, or you get too little breading but juicy chicken. But, somehow, bb.q Chicken was able to pull off both: there was the perfect amount of breading paired with some of the juiciest chicken I’ve ever tasted (and I’ve tasted a lot). My personal favorite was the cheeseling (which doesn’t come as a surprise); even though I’m not a superfan of cheese, the powder diversified the chicken’s flavor and made it all the more tasty.
Hongdae has a similar reputation to Myungdong, but instead of street food, it’s famous for its busking (street performances). On almost every corner you turn on, you’ll see someone belting out an iconic ballad or see a group of people dancing to a K-pop song. My friends and I visited an interactive multimedia exhibit called Flowers by Naked. The exhibit was almost formatted like a scarehouse, where you’d walk into one room with the next being shrouded by long curtains.
The flower-themed exhibit had gorgeous props like a human-sized dandelion or a ginormous cherry blossom tree, with the walls and floors being interactive digital “screens.” When you stepped on the floor, flower petals would burst under your feet and digital leaves would fly through the walls. It was the S-tier, perfect destination for lots of pictures and fun scenery.
And, I can’t forget about the food: the food at Hongdae was, too, absolutely exquisite. One of the restaurants we went to was called Hongdae Jjuggumi (홍대 쭈꾸미), with its specialty dish being jjugumi––which you can basically think of as baby octopi.
Other than sushi, I’ve never been the biggest fan of seafood. I definitely do not dislike seafood and am always excited to try it, but it was never exactly something I would crave. But when I tell you that it was unlike something I expected, I truly, truly mean it.
Cooked on a stove in front of us, the dish we ordered came with baby octopi and beef, marinated in a spicy sauce. Both components were extremely tender with the sauce complimenting them perfectly––but that wasn’t even the highlight.
After nearly finishing your dish, you use that extra sauce and octopi to fry rice. This, again, was not something I had high expectations for. In my head, it was much more of an afterthought––a nice way to wrap up the meal. But, yet again, I was wrong.
Two bowls of piping white rice were spilled onto our stove, flawlessly soaking in all of the leftover sauce and cooking until it reached the perfect moisture level for fried rice. Once the rice was almost cooked, an employee dashed the stove with white mozzarella, which melted into the rice to create a glorious, cheesy covering.
In my opinion, this was by far the most significant highlight of the meal. The rice absorbed the sauce so well, and it was a genius way to balance out the greasiness from the meat.
There definitely has been one thought on my mind throughout this entire trip: I have no idea how I would enjoy traveling as much as I do without the food. Experiencing different foods, especially from different cultures, is always so eye-opening and an actual, fully-immersive, cultural experience. All I can hope for for next week is even better food––and less rain (please).