Category: Food

Having written about South Korean music and waxed about its cinema, it was finally time to take the plunge and explore the neon-Kingdom’s cuisine, while seeking an answer to that immortal question: is there more to K-food than kimchi?

Before going further, a little context: at the heart of appreciating Korean cuisine is the understanding that unlike Japan, where food developed with little foreign influence until the late-1800s, Korea’s fare evolved from a combination of traditional agriculture and the contributions of occupying groups, including the nomadic tribes of Mongolia and the conquering armies of China and Japan. Despite this the Korean diet has remained centred on three core food groups – rice, vegetables and meat – with each colonising force adding its own influence.

For my journey of discovery I enlisted a Korean friend and gave him some clear instructions. First up, I wanted to go to a place where, when I shut my eyes and tasted the food, I was transport to the neon-lit heartland of Seoul. Next, I wanted something that was not over-the-top expensive, a bane that strikes a number of South Korean establishments in the Penh. Finally, ever the bike peddler, I wanted something that was central and not out in the boondocks. “Easy,” my epicurean guide replied. “Jaru on Street 225.”

It’s 7:30pm on a Sunday evening and I’m seated at Jaru, a mere stone’s throw from the Royal University of Phnom Penh. Already the table is covered with small dishes and we haven’t even ordered yet. My guide, seeing the doubt on my face (“What? Where did this come from?”), tells me these are appetisers that traditionally accompany the beginning of a meal in Korea. When in Seoul…

Looking beyond the starters I decide on Jaru’s full dine-set ($8) to get the full K-food experience. Two things are soon clear. First, it’s habit for most of the food to arrive in one wave and very quickly our table is brimming with plates and it’s difficult to find a space for our drinks (sadly there’s no Korean beer here). Second is that while portions are numerous, servings are small. This emphasis on side dishes, banchan in Korean, is a defining feature of the nation’s cuisine with the various foods intended to complement the main serving of rice.

Now I may know my Super Junior from my Big Bang, but I’m struggling to work out the parentage of some of the food set out before me. There is kimchi, of course: fermented cabbage which manages to be spicy and sour in the same bite. There’s also a fried fish: small but extremely tasty, it’s called ‘croaker’ and has to be imported from marine farms back in Korea.

Close runner-up are three strips of fried pork belly. Nicely seasoned, like the fish they’re big on taste but small on plate-size. Some marinated mushrooms (I have to ask my friend what they are) provide the Korean equivalent of ‘If you don’t eat your greens, you get no dessert.’ Next up is a dish of grilled marinated beef known in Korean as bulgogi and which regularly graces Top 50 lists for the planet’s most delicious foods. I’ve been dying to see what the fuss is about and am pleased to report the Jaru version is well seasoned and perfectly cooked.

For the penultimate treat we’re served soup, which arrives on a sizzling hot plate. The presence of fermented soya-bean base, know in Korea as doenjan, gives the soup its name and results in a dish that resembles miso in taste. However, this is an altogether more exciting fare than the Japanese variety: added to the mix are minced pork, zucchini, onion, potato, chillies and capsicum. It’s a ‘miso stew’ – and it’s outstanding.

Finally, as all good journeys should, we finish with a drink: another Korean treat know as sujeonggwa and featuring a brown-coloured punch that includes ginger, cinnamon and dried persimmon. The punch is sweet and spicy and is served, so I’m told, to aid digestion. Like the fish, pork belly and doenjan, it’s another highlight.

So how did we fare? On taste, price and accessibility, Jaru fulfilled all of my criteria. Other things such as décor and service weren’t overstated, with the bright lights and stark surfaces characterising some Korean establishments thankfully absent. Neither bold nor flash, Jaru understands what it’s about and delivers with a confidence that requires no bells or whistles: it’s good and it knows it.
Jaru, #35 Street 225; 023 885665.

 

Damn the French, with all their culture, subtitled films, good-looking rugby players called Jacques and fine wines. Why can’t we beer-imbibing Anglos claim some higher ground with our beverage of choice and engage in a tête-à-tête about the ancestry of the drink we shared over dinner?

Yes, there’s more to life than fine grapes! Where are the beer sommeliers out there, with their richly crafted metaphors about the brown lager at their table, the rippling pilsner on their tongue and the tasty ale they just spilt on the carpet?

Although in a country where some of the favourite tipples are named after a) felines; b) a large religious ruin; or c) part of a boat, I can understand the low visibility, but now we are fighting back! Not only that, we are even getting all philanthropic about it.

Yes, the craft beer company Cerevisia Brewery and their non-profit line, One River Brewing, is hitting the taps and fridges of CharmingVille and we ‘hopsters’ are excited.

But first, what qualifications does this Scribe of Street 130 have to pen in the heady world of ‘beer appreciation’? As a mixed-bred Anglo of Kiwi persuasion, I come from a country where our early European settlers are rumoured to have put beer in their breakfast porridge. And with the explosion of craft beers throughout the ‘land of the long, white cloud’ (soon to be rebranded ‘land of the long, pale beer froth’), I think my credentials are clear. Yes, it is in my blood, my veins run brown and I really am the lush – sorry, ‘man’ – for the job.

So bring on the ale!

My recent encounter with the amber liquid of Cerevisia/One River Brew began promisingly, as the smell of rich fermenting hops greeted me at the door of their newish fandango brewery. Less a backyard operation, these ‘hop heads’ – Erich and ‘Mr Brew’ – are more front-room guys, with a good portion of the latter’s downstairs house transformed into Brew Station Central.

Here, in this space, they strive to create what Phnom Penh has been crying out for (well, a certain apartment in Street 130, at least): quality pale, red and brown ales. Yes, in the Kingdom of Lager we have truly been missing something that harks back to those curry accompanying brews of the Old Country.

Underpinning the entire operation, states Erich – the head business honcho – is a desire to create “community”. Beer, he points out, “brings people together, in good times and in the bad”. Further, through their non-profit line, the business is trying to ensure their product benefits communities that don’t necessarily enjoy ale with their rice. “Our non-profit beer works like this: we will provide it, at cost, to places that wish to stock it and they will then be expected to donate any profit that they make to a not-for-profit organisation of their choice.”

Philanthropy and beer: perfect! But what about the commercial side of the operation? Erich: “We are on tap at Deco and The Exchange, and soon to be at Brooklyn Pizza and Chinese House, while bottled versions of the company’s beer are also on their way.” At a heady alcohol rating around 5.6 %, I’m keen to learn from Mr Brew the secrets to creating good ale. Cerevisia and One River Brewing’s resident beerologist is forthright with his reply: “Brewing and fermentation, conditioning, how you store it and the way it is drunk: they are all important.”

Geometry, apparently, is especially significant. Mr Brew again: “The shape of what beer is stored in during the different stages of the brewing process will have a big impact on the final taste.” So there’s more to it than cracking a tinny? “Definitely!”

There is undeniable fine science here – take that, grape-drinking folk – and while we may not be talking about the Higgs Boson here, to be frank, a dose of dark matter is not what I crave after a workout at the gym.

And, apparently, there is also history. “Recipes for beer date back to the Sumerian Empire and Babylon, even predating those for bread,” notes Mr Brew. Excellent! At last: historic validation for buying a six pack and forgetting the bread.