As the World Turns, Grills Burn

When it came to favorite neighborhood restaurants, Quincy’s had always been at the top my list. Located five minutes down the hill from my parents’ house, its place in my heart only grew with each additional time my friends, family and I frequented.  It was for this reason that, while in Korea, I grew quite sad to hear that its final chapter had closed. However, upon last month’s visit back home, this sentiment decreased.

Quincy’s replacement, , is, as an understatement, an excellent place to satisfy one’s desire for barbecue and a festive evening. South Valley Road’s rib haven offers both barbecue infused delight and a lively atmosphere. Still maintaining its neighborhood feel, it is filled with a mouth watering aroma, mood suitable tunes and overjoyed patrons. As a West Orange native, I could not be more pleased with this classic Jersey restaurant that has a taste of the south, up and running in my very own corner of West Orange. Six years removed, I still cannot help shake any identity to it, which is why my pride still grows when a great new place like this opens.

It was my last night back in town. It was less than twelve hours before I had to return to the City of Masters, just halfway around the world. Here I sat, feeling comfortable as could be. With my parents on the opposite side of the table, I enjoyed the savory taste of my St. Louis ribs, alternating each of the several trademark sauces that were given to me with this more than generous helping. I cherished every bite, knowing that soon enough I would not be able to find this style of cooking. I was soon reminded that this as well as many other differences exists among Korean and American barbecue joints.

Not long after I returned to Anseong, I went with my friend to his relatives’ restaurant called Soop-sok selpa-barbecue, a rough translation to “self serve barbecue in the forest.”  A few minutes off of the road exit, through a forty foot long entryway of wired party lights lay a path lined on both sides with vegetation.  Beyond this tunnel of incandescence lies a tiny hut with a gravel ground. Sitting on this ground are several tables and burning heaps of charcoal. On the right side of this tent is a buffet table for unlimited amounts of garlic, peppers, hot sauce, and fermented cabbage-more commonly known as kimchi.

As I sat here in a radically different environment than I had been in West Orange, surrounded by songs of crickets rather than one of Suzy Que’s live bands, I immediately remembered the first difference in style. For one, you do not get your own entrees in Korean establishments. It is all about sharing from one gigantic grill. If it is any consolation, you do get your own chopsticks. Germaphobes, please refrain from coming to this beloved country.

First up for our community grill was a tasty plate of sam-gyap-sal-a very salty pork, all dumped above the hot charcoals for us to dig in and share. This was cooked with whole cloves of garlic, an accompaniment to Korean grills as common as ketchup is with fries in the states. More often than not, as is customary in Korea, we wrapped our hunks of meat in leaves of lettuce, a habit I could see one being criticized for in any Jersey eatery.

After we finished this, we ordered a round of Me-un doon galbi. “Galbi” means rib in Korean, and is traditionally marinated in sugar, garlic and soy sauce. This time it came doused in an especially thick, burgundy sauce, most likely combined with an overwhelming amount of red pepper.  For a finishing touch, it was showered with sesame seeds.

While between rounds of the ribs, we accounted for our “good health” by devouring two inch green “gochu”, or green peppers. While time and time again these demonic chilies being me to tears, it has become somewhat of a painful pleasure that I have developed over my time in this country. In addition, accepting it feels better than insulting a table where I am the lone foreigner. Since we were at Soop-sok selpa, we did not have a selection of beers on draught as Suzy Que’s does.  Rather, we had to wash our meals down with Soju-a starch fermented beverage whose wretched after taste is good for one thing only-attenuating the flames which now enveloped our mouths.

From the streets of West Orange to the woods of Anseong, barbecue is a way of life for many. Whether served with corn on the cob drowned in butter, or one year old cabbage caked with chili paste, both of these restaurants are recommended to all who seek night of family, friends, and grilled perfection.