as much as i adore spanish food, i got the kimchi craving. kind of ironic because the whole time i was living in korea, i’d have cravings for the good cured meats and stinky cheeses of europe which were in short supply or often beyond my means in seoul.
luckily, madrid has a fair number of koreans who keep the kimchi trade in business. han gang restaurante coreana is supposedly popular among the local koreans. while not great, the kimchi chigae and dolsot bibimbap were passable but the yook gejang was severely underspiced. my favorite dish there was the bibim naengmyun. they charge extra for a side of kimchi but if they think you’re korean they’ll feel guilty enough to give it to you for free. but i’m warning you now, the kimchi isn’t great. it tastes like it’s pre-packaged and not made by the loving hands of an ajumma. the only other banchan you get is a little plate of pickled peppers. the prices start at around 9 euros for most dishes.
the filipino waiter at han gang is friendly and speaks english. he told us about a korean market in town called “hans alimentación.” it’s a small shop on a tiny little street that sells korean basics like ramyun, various jangs and dried noodles. the kimchi was 10 euros a kilo — kind of steep but it’s homemade and much tastier than the stuff at han gang. we went through 2 kilos of it.
every sunday, throngs of people descend upon el rastro. it’s the largest flea market in europe, continuing block after block near la latina metro station. i heard it gets crowded — and i’m no stranger to crowds, having endured rush hours in NYC and seoul — but geez louise, we were elbow to knee to ankles with hundreds, maybe even over a thousand people.
i thought the vendors would sell more old, vintage-y stuff but most of the merch was new; leather goods, candles, t-shirts. a few alleys sold antiques and random crap.
shopping at a supermarket in france is a pleasure, even if i’m just going to the local monoprix for a carton of milk. i can find products i’ve never seen before like this yogurt in stracciatella flavor (vanilla with chocolate bits). it’s slightly tart-in a good way and the clear rounded “bulle” container makes it that much more french (although stracciatella is an italian word).
or a box of mini biscottes that i’ve had in the states but they’re like 1/4 the price in france. they’re crisp croutons that look like pieces of toast shrunken down to doll size. they don’t have a whole lot of flavor on their own but they’re the perfect vehicle for transferring more stinky cheese, paté or nutella into your greedy mouth.
then it’s always interesting to see how other cultures translate american products like these lay’s potato chips
in bolognaise flavor (yeah, as in spaghetti bolognese) and poulet roti et thym flavor which is “roast chicken and thyme” flavor. and i thought the oregano lay’s i saw in bulgaria were strange…
but my favorite frenchified american product has got to be mr. clean. he’s known as “monsieur propre” in france. i found this old commercial pour monsieur propre:
at 6 am, there was already a line snaking around the bend at dai wai for what is arguably the freshest (and best) sushi in the market. we waited for 30 minutes in the cold rain but were rewarded with the chef’s omakase. today, it was a special roll of tuna and ikura, o-toro, ika, tomago, uni, amaebi (i nearly jumped out of my seat when the shrimp’s tail moved right in front of me), chu-toro, the grilled shrimp head, hirame and unagi. it was the breakfast of champions.
after the ping pong bar, we pulled an all-nighter to go to tsukiji fish market. if you want to make it in time to watch the tuna auction you have to get there around 5 am.
i thought i’d seen some heavy rain in seoul but that morning in tokyo, people shoulda been rounding up animals in pairs. (the onset of a typhoon i was told.) we entered the warehouse, traipsing through fish juices and trying not to slip on the fish scraps scattered on the floor. all around us were fish porters with gurneys and drivers on zamboni type vehicles making deliveries at breakneck speeds down the narrow pathways. they’re just doing their job and it was up to us not to get hit or lose a limb. i think i aged 10 years from the sheer fright of the whole experience.
at the auction, the auctioner was jumping up and down, ringing a bell and yelling gibberish the whole time. even takeshi didn’t know what he was yammering on about. we were surrounded by huge, shiny tuna corpses, cross-sectioned and tagged. it looked like a tuna morgue. we saw one sell for Y900,000 ($9,000) but apparently the highest price ever garnered at the market was $200,000.
i'm suddenly susan. i grew up in new york city. my last home was in korea where i spent three years. i left in 2007 to travel the world, freelance writing to pay the bills. europe, jamaica, fiji, NZ, australia...and i'm still on the road, currently in cape town, south africa. follow me as i continue my journey across the globe.
and the clear rounded “bulle” container makes it that much more french (although stracciatella is an italian word).
