Last night a rice triangle saved my life. I was going to dinner with Alex (AKA the slowest man alive) when I was all but felled by a serious bout of hangrrr. I needed some real food, and I needed to have eaten it several minutes ago. Luckily convenience stores abound in this country, and most of them stock a dizzying range of samgak kimbap (삼각 김밥). Well, dizzying for someone as illiterate in Korean as me (but I’m learning, promise!)

Tuna and mayonnaise filled triange kimbap.

Due to my aforementioned illiteracy, choosing which triangle kimbap to buy is a lucky dip. Some brands have pictures of the main ingredient: fish, chicken, cow; but the brand with the best salty, fresh seaweed wrapper is all designerly stylised Hangul (top picture). The filling could be tuna and mayonnaise, kimchi, chicken or my favourite, gochuhang bulgogi (spicy beef). Luckily, they are so inexpensive that buying a few and hoping for the best will barely make a dint in your pocket change, about 700₩ (60c) each. One is enough to stave off death by hunger, two is lunch.

Kimbap, Korean seaweed and rice rolls, are less refined than sushi and are loaded with vegetables both fresh and pickled and a range of protein. They’re a much loved healthy and quick snack, but I prefer the heartier, more simple triangle variety.

Not only are rice triangles delicious and cheap, they are also ingeniously packaged. What appears to be a simple plastic wrapping is a actually clever trick to keep your pre-packaged snack fresh for longer.

First, unpeel the rip-cord marked 1. Next, pull out the corner, 2, and you’ll see that there is in fact a double layer of plastic enveloping the kim/gim (seaweed) and separating it from the potentially soggy-fying rice. Once the corners are removed, the salty seaweed wrapping springs back into place around the rice, still crisp and ready for consumption.

Samgak kimbap, my favourite emergency snack.

Mul naengmyeon (물 냉면), water cold-noodles are not the most appetising sounding food, and just to make it worse, we’ve nicknamed this dish ‘naengers’. It makes me think of a bland, flaccid, sog-fest of a meal, luckily the reality is completely opposite. A tangle of al-dente buckwheat noodles float in a savoury broth, so cold it’s icy. Mustard and vinegar are commonly added, and oftentimes I opt for the vinegar being a yellow-mustard-ophobe, but this version at Yooksam Naengmyeon is so flavourful it doesn’t require any additions. Traditional accompaniments of julienned cucumber, toasted sesame seeds, carefully boiled egg and pickled radish round out the dish.

Yooksam Naengmyeon, yet another chain restaurant (they’re incredibly difficult to avoid in South Korea), serves up a particularly satisfying mul naengmyeon at the Myeongdong branch. Bibim naengmyeon 비빔 냉면 (spicy mixed cold noodles), bibimbap 비빔밥 and udon noodles are also available, all served as a set with a side of charcoal grilled pork. The meat is tender, sweet and smoky, best eaten with a bite of noodles, as described by the super-cutesy cartoon advertising.

Scissors, the go-to blade of Korea, are provided to separate your noodles into manageable lengths and to break up any particularly large icebergs.

To be honest, I never loved mul naengmyeon. Probably because it is so often ordered after a meal of galbi or another variant of Korean BBQ. I’d fill up on greasy meat and spicy kimchi (and alcohol) and by the time the naengmyeon arrived I was invariably ready to stand up and stretch my floor-sitting weary body, completely sated. It always seemed over the top. Over the top, or just plain not enough. A simple bowl of noodles with a sprinkle of cucumber and half a boiled egg is not a satisfying meal. The addition of BBQ meat lifts it to ‘happily eat again’ status, though I do still yearn for some more vegetable content, but that is an ever-present unfulfilled dining desire in Korea.

Yooksam Naengmyeon has given me hope for naengmyeon. I’m sure there are better executed versions out there, but after this instance I understand how a few simple cold ingredients can form a satisfying and interesting meal, just so long as there is some charcoal BBQ pork on the side.

Mul naengmyeon is the first option on the menu.

Yooksam Naengmyeon, various locations.

Mul naengmyeon + charcoal BBQ pork 6,000 won (~5.20AUD)

There is an English menu, and English characters on the signage.

My first visit was to a branch in Myeongdong. From Myeongdong station take exit 8. Turn left and walk down the shopping street. Take the third street on the left and walk to the end. You will see Yooksam naengmyeon in front of you. It is on the second floor.

I also visited a branch in Hongdae. The Mul naengmyeon and BBQ set was only 5,200won here, but I was disappointed by the poor quality and lack of flavour.

There was a time very recently where I felt as though I had never been warm, nor would I ever be warm again. Then spring came, my first ever, bringing with it blossoms, sneezing and the hasty shedding of the outer-layers. Now, as these things invariably go, it is starting to feel a lot like summer. Which in Korea means sun, super short shorts, fans (and hopefully avoiding fan death) and frozen desserts. Ice creams, ice blended drinks and scoops of ice cream pressed between waffles are all understandably popular, and cloying, ways to eat away the heat. But my new favourite Korean iced dessert is patbingsu (팥빙수).

It is in the same vein as Malaysias cendol (1, 2) and ais kacang, Vietnams che and any number of other Asian shaved ice desserts, only simpler. This particular patbingsu features red beans, sweetened, tender and not at all grainy, shaved ice and some optional fruit and syrup, refined and basic. We are at Meal Top, a famous patbingsu restaurant in the Hyundai department store in Apgujeong, an exclusive suburb full of designer stores and fabulous apartments. Meal Top is overflowing on this hot Saturday afternoon, so we take a number and note there are 17 tables ahead of us. Luckily we are on the 5th floor with efficient air conditioning and the line moves surprisingly fast. Ten minutes later we are settled inside this strangely designed (mediterranean-y terrace, fake trees, fluorescent lights, fake greek-style pillars, mish mash confusion) space.

A shock of staff hustle and bustle around, quietly taking orders and money, and quickly delivering trays laden with pretty desserts. We order two bowls, plain milk and strawberry (7,000won, ~$6AU, each). Both have finely shaved ice, delicious mushy red beans and a few pieces of ttoek, a chewy rice cake for textural interest. The milk version is rich with dairy, but not at all fatty. It is plain enough to be considered boring at first taste, but there is beauty in its simplicity and this quickly becomes my favourite. Strawberry syrup flavours the other dessert, making it light and bright, the taste of summer.

People around us order take away and eat their cooling desserts upstairs, in the park on the roof of the department store. Yes, there is a park up there, complete with trees, grass and rampaging children. As the weather intensifies, I can see myself enjoying patbingsu more and more often. Spring and the park on the roof may be surprises, but my desire for patbingsu certainly isn’t.

Meal Top
5th floor of the Hyundai Department Store,
Apgujeong.
Connected to the Apgujeong subway station.