mouthfeel

From June 2008 to April 2010, I lived, worked, and ate in Seoul, Korea. I started this blog before Tumblr added the Content Source field. I took all of the food photos here, unless otherwise noted (like in a link or via). Use your judgment.

My personal Tumblr is here. I am currently blogging for the Los Angeles Times Tumblr.

May 04
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비빔밥: When my mom came to visit me in March, she woke me up early before work to shower and eat breakfast — her own special version of bibimbap for her wittle woman. Kidding, my mom doesn’t actually talk like that. But, dude. I haven’t had breakfast at the top of the day since high school. And I never used to like bibimbap that much, either: restaurants always skimp on the toppings, confusing the eyes and stomach with rice overload. Yet here was this fresher-than-Doug-E. sprinkling of radish and red cabbage sprouts nestled above its perfectly proportioned counterpoint: a small child’s fistful of sticky white grains. (“You need to lose some weight,” my mom explained helpfully.) It was topped with a cheerful sunnyside up, a glob of hot pepper paste, a bit of sesame oil and soy sauce to taste, and finally served with a side of kimchi and a cup of instant coffee (not so vilified here). All ready upon completion of shower at 7:15 a.m.
Fun fact: Korean supermarkets sell a really awesomely-sized variety pack of sprouts. It’s enough to last a few days, and screams, “I’m single, no kids, don’t judge me.”

비빔밥: When my mom came to visit me in March, she woke me up early before work to shower and eat breakfast — her own special version of bibimbap for her wittle woman. Kidding, my mom doesn’t actually talk like that. But, dude. I haven’t had breakfast at the top of the day since high school. And I never used to like bibimbap that much, either: restaurants always skimp on the toppings, confusing the eyes and stomach with rice overload. Yet here was this fresher-than-Doug-E. sprinkling of radish and red cabbage sprouts nestled above its perfectly proportioned counterpoint: a small child’s fistful of sticky white grains. (“You need to lose some weight,” my mom explained helpfully.) It was topped with a cheerful sunnyside up, a glob of hot pepper paste, a bit of sesame oil and soy sauce to taste, and finally served with a side of kimchi and a cup of instant coffee (not so vilified here). All ready upon completion of shower at 7:15 a.m.

Fun fact: Korean supermarkets sell a really awesomely-sized variety pack of sprouts. It’s enough to last a few days, and screams, “I’m single, no kids, don’t judge me.”