Gone

Daejungok (perhaps can be translated as "gem of the people" or, perhaps, "popular spot"), one of the last vestiges of a Korea that is slowly disappearing thanks to contemporary obsessions with newness and hygiene (ok--I had to add this last part because there needs to be a bright side), served as a spot for hungry Koreans wanting that old school flavor that can be hard to come by. When the southern perimeters of the city were marked by the Han River, it greeted weary travelers making their way through the city gates and, over time, became a favorite spot for down-home Korean cooking as the city expanded and it became a part of the central district. Around since before the Korean War, this restaurant closed its doors early this spring. Another bright side is that the owners have opened a new location in Kangnamgu, Seoul's swank neighborhood south of the Han. Somehow, I think the flavors will be different. No more will the meals be prepared in these great iron pots heated by underground heating systems fueled by coal and hardwood. No more will patrons sit within the ramshackle, barely standing walls of the old hanok converted into this eatery long ago. No more will the smells of slightly molding layers, upon layers of wallpaper and inner city dust permeate the air as you sit in a restaurant smelling of--how can I say this--dirty feet (yes, this is true of any spot selling seollangtang, but here it was really strong). Funny through, I loved it. Maybe because I could just smell the history. Maybe because I knew that soon, it would no longer be here. Maybe because I could sit in this place filled with people in their 60s and 80s and no one, for once, stared or thought I shouldn't be there. Don't know why--but I think they were a bit surprised and appreciative that someone like me could be there and appreciate that flavor and environment without turning my nose up. Now, it sits, leveled, a lot being prepared for another highrise or parking garage. People will soon forget the history, the flavors, the smells, that once marked this spot.

 

 "Don't trash this spot!" with another sign advertising haejangguk--boiled ox blood soup. My personal favorite and what this place is famous for. You had to know this place was here to come. Turning off the main road through winding alleyways, you can squeeze into a parking spot and make your way in. Jack, the master of little cultural gems like this, insisted we must eat here before it closes (Jack and I once had lunch here while shopping for Christmas dinner fixings).

 The kids in front of the restaurant. In this entrance, there is a room full of tables and benches set up for eating, but that night it was totally packed, so we rounded the corner, through the kitchen and into the long part of this old L-shaped house where there were additional rooms where people could sit on the floor and eat at tables (notice the shoes below outside of rooms with sliding doors). Below, the madang, or central paved over outdoor spot of the hanok.

 The menue: galbi jjim (boiled and caramelized beef ribs), jongol (stew), songchi (veal), ulang (not sure, some sort of beef dish), gancheonyeop (have no idea what this is), meorigogi (meat prepared from the head, I assume of a cow), chutang (think this is chueotang, which is a kind of spicy fish soup, but out of character with the menu so not sure if it is what I think it is; some things were mispelled on the menu, so again, not 100% sure), seolleongtang (a beef soup with noodles--so yummy!), haejangguk (boiled ox blood soup--in photo below--yummy and loaded with iron).

Jack enjoys haejangguk while Dahin eats the kids' favorite, seolleongtang. We also got some free galbi jjim because the ajuma wanted us to try it since the people at the table next to use complained about it. Apparently, they are regular costumers and habitually complain every time they come. They were quite the jerks, I must say. So, the auntie made a big point of having us try the jjim and asking our opinion on it in front of the other people--awkward. It was good, though, and we said so.

 Walking through the kitchen, you can see the big pot in the foreground used to prepare our haejangguk.

Above, the kids walk into the main room where Apa checks us out (below). Before leaving, Jack and I grab some instant coffee available by the register and take one last look at this historic site.