A Korean experience in a Little Korea

A Korean experience in a Little Korea

JAKARTA (JP): The Korea Tower restaurant -- a Little Korea on
the 30th floor of the BBD building on Jl. Imam Bonjol, Central
Jakarta -- holds the same set of lofty promises as all top-floor
restaurants in highrise buildings. Breathtaking views. Luxurious
ambience. Elegant service. Food fit for an emperor. Prices that
often don't show on the menu.

Much like the prominent landmark in which it is housed, it
suggests cool exclusivity that only caters to the deep-pocketed,
a select number of connoisseurs and native Koreans in search of a
momentary taste of home.

In my experience, however, clueless, non-Korean people who
just happen to be in the building often elect to place their bets
on Yakiniku Daidomon, the Japanese restaurant next door. And this
is understandable, too, for Japanese cuisine has established a
foothold here, and familiar means safe. Which goes to show how
much the ill-informed can miss. For it was apparent, at least on
the day I visited, that Yakiniku Daidomon was only sparsely
filled, and The Korea Tower was bustling with activity. Despite
the stressful campaign atmosphere, it was a full house on a
Monday night. That speaks well for eating establishments anywhere
and any place.

It turned out to be an ambience that was more bubbly than
luxurious, evoking the kind of casual, relaxed, laughter-filled
joviality of those who were there not to see or to be seen but to
simply enjoy good food. Ninety-nine percent of the diners were
Korean, which was another assuring sign that we were about to
partake of the "real thing".

With typical elegant efficiency, the menus were laid before us
by daintily-polite yet experienced waiters. There was an air of
"old establishment" that may be in keeping with the restaurant's
12-year or so history.

The interior, commented one of my dinner companions, is
typical of Korean restaurants in South Korea: parquet floor,
ceilings with the ubiquitous Korean flower motif, square
lanterns, private cubicles and a diminutive stage replete with a
paraphernalia of Korean musical instruments. To me, it looks like
one of those instant-culture bastions in faraway places that kind
of clash with the 1950s oldies and annoying Muzak.

However, out of Korea Tower's general clutter emerged a warm
sense of intimacy. Especially when the food arrived in timely
succession, thanks to an omnipotent walking bag of efficiency
they call a manager.

First, thumbs up to the standard selection of vegetable side
dishes, including several kinds of kimchi, pickled spinach and
sweet spiced cucumber. They were excellent. Then came the two
barbecued dishes of Bulgogi (strips of marinated U.S. beef
broiled on a convex cooker), perhaps the cuisine's best known
dish, and Saeng deung sim (roasted U.S. sirloin). Accompanying
them was a plateful of raw, leafy vegetables (lettuce, red
spinach, Chinese cabbage, giant bok choy) with which to wrap the
beef and solid vegetables (carrot, cucumber, sweet potato) to
dip into the garlicky, bean paste-based chili sauce.

Two complaints. For Rp 21,000 and Rp 27,000 a piece, the beef
dishes were far too small, and I would have liked raw garlic to
wrap in the leafy pancake. Well, frankly speaking I don't know
how authentic that version is, but I guess one tends to pine for
what one is used to. In any case, the beef was tender to the
taste and the seasoning was tasty enough - not ambrosial, but
pretty representative. But, again, due to the law of familiarity,
I would have preferred it on the sweeter side.

Next to satisfy rumbling stomachs was Ge Lan Chim, a souffle-
like Korean porridge with egg that, upon observation, was almost
on every table. But it tasted no more than puffed-up scrambled
egg chock-filled with milk and garnished with spring onions.
Actually, since the dish arrived, I began doing some serious
sniffing and bending over to locate the source of a repulsive,
pungent smell. Later in the car, one of my companions said, "I
think it was the egg porridge". Gee, thanks, mate, for eating it
like there was no tomorrow.

The Jang O Kui (grilled eel), however, is definitely a
delicacy worth crowing about. I agree that eel, in any way, shape
or form, is not everybody's idea of gastronomy, and it isn't as
if this poor, pitiful creature is perched elegantly on a minute
piece of sushi. However, this particular eel was beautifully
grilled, and I at last found in the sauce the discreet sweetness
I craved.

A classic mistake occurred when we ordered two kinds of soup
that we thought were different but turned out to be similar. One
was the Korean signature soup, Cige (Mae Un Tang), a peppery hot
fish soup, and the other was All Tang, an egg fish soup. You do
have to have a certain acquired taste for this kind of soup, I'm
afraid, because it has the kind of spiciness that burns your
throat.

Another mistake, this time not caused by us, was the Cha Jang
Myun (cold noodles swathed in a bean paste or tauco sauce) which
wasn't what we ordered. Since none of us is a fan of Malaysian
rojak, which is exactly what this dish tasted like, it was a
rather sorry finale to an otherwise agreeable dinner.

My only warning is that since South Korean cuisine boasts as
many extremes as its landscape and climate, it would be best to
ask for recommendations, especially if you are new to the
experience. For Rp 200,000 for four persons, it could be a
rather costly experience.

-- Epicurus