Everything started from one question. Why aren't there any good Korean restaurants in Boston? He said it's the consensus among Koreans in the community to feel like they have to travel to New York or New Jersey for better Korean food. With this new trio of concepts, Kim feels confident that diners no longer have to board the Acela for quality Korean cuisine.
For the uninitiated, gimbap is sort of like the Korean answer to Japanese sushi: the dish consists of cooked rice and various fillings rolled in dried seaweed and then sliced into biteable pieces.
Yi Cha serves a menu of drinking-oriented fare, or anju, rooted in chef-owner Debbie Lee's North Korean heritage and Southern upbringing, with a heavy dash of influences from Southern California's immigrant communities. Locals in the area sidle up to the bar for cocktails like the dongchimi-inspired Radish to Riches and the vibrant Jeju Sunrise, which pairs lychee-infused vodka with mandarin, orange, and pomegranate juice.
I had never noticed jeon in my youth, not like I do now. Maybe because they were always there, at every party, holiday, Tuesday night dinner. While the mothers gathered in the kitchen to fry up brimming platters of the Korean fritters with ingredients like meat (wanja jeon), kimchi (kimchi jeon) and cod (daegu jeon) the fathers played cards in the dining room, drinking soju and beer, and we children ran amok upstairs playing video games. The smell in the air, fried oil, was singular.
Growing up in Louisiana in the '90s, there was only one Korean grocery store in town, which my family drove to every few weeks to pick up staples like gochujang and kimchi.
Kevin Tien, chef/owner of Moon Rabbit in Penn Quarter, says he encountered a lot of eel dishes, from soups to congee, when he traveled to Vietnam for the first time a year ago. "I didn't realize myself that eel is a really popular source of protein in Vietnam," he says. "And with my background in Japanese cuisine, I thought it was just an easy thing to put on our menu."
A seaweed-and-rice roll by any name would taste as all the same... or, would it? Despite their visually similar appearances, Korean kimbap and Japanese sushi have more differences than they share similarities. Both kimbap and sushi wrap sticky short-grain white rice and fillings inside of a nori seaweed sheet, using the same assemblage technique of cylindrical rolling in a bamboo mat. But, from there, these flavorful, tightly-packed rolls diverge - offering different fillings, different rice, and different accouterment.
The best Korean restaurants throughout New York City are a mix of old and new: Korean-American mainstays that have been barbecuing meats or slinging bowls of soups for decades, as well as imports of hot spots straight from Korea, plus modern restaurants serving innovative riffs on classic Korean fare. As a Korean American who grew up eating my mom's home cooking and visiting Seoul every summer,
The menu balances homey staples such as japchae, chive pancakes, and spicy tofu stew with more luxurious options like uni rice - which I ordered on a visit this past week. A bowl of sizzling rice comes beautifully topped with uni, tobiko, kimchi, pickles, and veggies. Mix it all up for a comforting side dish that has layers of flavors.
Shrimp burgers, 'shake it' fries, and unique Korean-inspired offerings differentiate Lotteria's menu, making it a favorite among local diners excited about its American debut.
Japanese fried chicken, or karaage, often uses boneless filets and smaller, bite-sized chunks for quicker cooking and easier eating with chopsticks, while Korean fried chicken utilizes familiar cuts like wings and drumsticks.
For classic Korean barbecue with some noticeable new tweaks: Baekjeong introduces colorful faux porcelain dishes and rotating seasonal banchan, while maintaining top-notch meat quality and an impressive grill experience.
