october 13, 2008 06:30pm – in Korea
I'm going to write something here every day now. Why shouldn't I? Even if just a few sentences.
Today Daniel and I went to the local Philippine supply chain outlet. Only half a block from the western equivalent (The Underground Grocer, which I've mentioned before) is a tiny Philippine market and restaurant. We ate some fried fish, which was forgettable, but also some chicken-and-vegetable dish that tasted, frankly, incredible.
I'd been there before to shop, and on the way there I told Daniel that it felt like I had barged into someone's family room. I wasn't comfortable with that at the time, but that casual feeling would turn out to be the best thing about the experience, apart from the flavors.
In Korea everything is flavored with gochu-chang, a red pepper sauce, and I can see where the instinct came from. The flavor is delicious and unique, but tiresome after a steady eight months of the stuff. There's "American" and "Italian" food to be found, but those are always shallow, lazy Korean interpretations made to match a picture, not a flavor.
This place was being run by a late-middle-aged Filipina lady. Her whole demeanor was much warmer than the dutiful, "let me show you do it" attitude of the late-middle-aged Korean ladies.
Maybe it's because Philippine food doesn't defy Westerners to acquire a taste for it. At any rate, the mild, lightly sweet flavor of the hearty chicken dish was familiar, like a fresher, more austere ancestor of what we call Chinese "sweet and sour chicken." Both Daniel and I stopped, surprised after a couple of bites to point out that it was delicious.
But what made the whole experience something like the perfect breakfast (It was midday, but the meal felt like breakfast) was the atmosphere. So casual. Such a welcome change. Most tellingly, the woman walked up to our table right before bringing out our food, and handed us the remote to the TV.
On the way out she asked us if the food was good. We told her quite honestly that we'd be back.