Jujeon Taxi Service

My friend Sam - aka Kuntz Machine, aka the Machine, aka Machine - and I have made a habit of having dinner every Monday. We have both committed ourselves to hectic teaching schedules this semester, and Mondays are one of the few days where we can actually punch out at 5pm. Usually we'll just sample tried and true Korean barbecuse in our neighborhoods, but last Monday was different. Sam decided it would be good if we went out to the Jujeon seashore and drop some pseudo-heavy coin on raw fish. I obliged, and off we went.

My raw fish experiences in Korea have been hit or miss at best. I've quietly convinced myself that Korea's anti-Japanese sentiment has relieved them of any responsibility to prepare good sushi. It's almost as if they find it patriotic to butcher such a delectable treat. Don't get me wrong; Koreans can cook like the best of them. The food might end up being my favorite thing about this place, but westerners don't do fish on the bone - which is the de facto fish serving in Korea. We yankees have been weened on the Japanese tradition, which is most certainly not thriving in the RoK. So you can see why I had serious doubts about the veracity of Sam's claims that his chosen restaurant was 'otherworldly.'

Surely enough, Sam came through. The fish blew me away. You could immediately tell that nothing in our meal had ever seen the inside of a freezer - a feeling I've pretty much never had in Korea. It was, without a doubt, the best fish I've had here. And the best part? The restaurant itself was about as sparse as any I've ever been in. Sam and I had the whole place - basically the owners' two-story house - to ourselves. I always feel somewhat circumspect of restaurants whose food and aesthetic seem equally labored over. Shouldn't the main attraction be on your plate? I didn't need muted lighting and expensive wall paper to speak to the quality of this joint. If only more American restaurants would take note. The game is in the food, not the distractions!

I don't want to say that we had a trek back to our houses, but Jujeon is a sleepy community that is noticeably different in look and feel from our urban environs. To say the least, cabs are not easily gotten, and buses almost impossible. We hadn't considered this, but just as we began to discuss our options, the owner's wife flashed her car keys at us. We looked at each other. "Is she driving us home?" And just as quickly we found ourselves in her backseat, being whisked over the mountain that separated her 'hood from ours. In effect, she closed down her restaurant to do this for us. Would that ever happen in the US? I think you all know the answer. It was a magical experience.