Under the Green Tent: Korean Street Food - Review of Pocha 32

Green Tent.

This article originally appeared on The Gotham Palate.

Imagine yourself bundled up in layers in the dead of winter, sitting on a stool outdoors under a plastic green tent with gurgling pots of kimchi-infused casseroles, soups and spices mingling around you. Soju bottle in hand, pouring your sunbaenim (elder, in Korean) a shot and knocking the vodka-like substance back with a hearty "Kanbei!"...followed by a loud, vehement clearing of the throat. Slurping down ramyun like it was a race to the finish, burning your tongue in the process because you want to eat the noodles while they're not soggy.

That's a typical food stall scenario in Korea, where street food is elevated to the highest form of trendy, home-spun comfort. Pocha 32's decor reminded me of that, bringing the outdoors inside with perforated green tents, pictures of patrons strewn on the walls with nothing but brightly colored paper clips holding them up. My friend and I sat all the way in the back since it was crowded. But at 7:45ish, that was expected. Busy is good.

Blaring through the sound system: V.I.'s "Strong Baby," Epik High's "One" and a female cover of Taeyang's "Look Only At Me." Is it sad that I knew the set list? The lights progressively dimmed more and more as the night wore on. Around 9:30 p.m., the music changed from Kpop hits to dancehall electronica beats, and the lights (made of bottle caps) from green-tinted to white and blue Christmas lights. As if on cue. Turns out it was someone's birthday. Cool way to toast a friend.

Appetizers.

I enjoyed the appetizers, huge strips of carrots and cucumbers (although "stalks" would be a more accurate description) and ssamjang, or an orange-red sauce made of fermented bean curd and red pepper paste. The fresh ssamjang complemented the vegetables nicely and especially paired well with the cucumbers, the carrots being sweeter. [It's the same hot sauce as the one at Gahm Mi Oak, only they serve it with hot chili peppers and lettuce.]

And then we waited. And waited. I didn't really keep track of how long it took before our first dish showed up, but it was more than 30 minutes. The waiter said the chef was backlogged since they were so busy (and, it seems, understaffed). He hadn't even started on our order yet! I understand that good food takes it sweet time to prepare, but it's still an inefficient system. And when we cancelled an order for Chicken and Korean noodles, there must have been miscommunication between the waiters that served us since we still got a bill charging us for it. (Keep in mind the chef hadn't even started on our order yet at this time). Luckily, we were able to fix that mistake, but this error kind of dampened my celebratory mood.

Budae Chigae.

Fortunately, the Budae Chigae was worth the inordinate wait. This Korean "army stew" included classic ingredients, such as kimchi, onions, tofu and ttokk (small flat rice cakes), along with bites of sausage, Spam and bulgolgi. I think my favorite version so far is still Kunjip's. But in any case, it was chock full of fireball flavor. I don't think we understood how big the serving size was going to be. This casserole stew is meant to be shared with a big party. At $19.99, it's way too much food to consume for two people! We needed at least 6 people to conquer that Budae Chigae.

Ddukbokki.

The Ddukbokki dish with kimchi and tofu ($9.99) was definitely the winner of the night - soft yet firm and chewy rice cakes. The star ingredient here is Korean hot pepper paste. Without that, you're a fish out of water. We cracked open a bottle of Pomegranate Soju Wine ($18.99) but couldn't even finish the whole thing. I'm sure our waiter meant to be obliging when he recommended the pom soju. He probably picked us out as inexperienced soju drinkers (which we are). However, I don't need sickly sweet things to appease my non-Korean palate. It doesn't take a wine sommelier to realize that pomegranate did not complement the intense red hot pepper spiciness of our dishes. I would go with the Jinro Chamisul Original Soju ($13.99) or the communal Watermelon Soju bowl ($24.99).

To make it worth the splurge, I'm definitely bringing more people (and a Korean friend!) for Round 2. Maybe then the staff would take us seriously.

Blue Blur.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars. Despite the subpar service, I'm such a sucker for ddukbokki and budae chigae that I'm willing to give Pocha another chance.

Location:
Pocha 32
15 W 32nd St
2nd Fl
New York, NY 10001
212.279.1874

Today's LUNCH

Spam & Egg Miso Ramen.

Today's lunch consists of:

-2 pieces of sliced sodium-reduced spam (still plenty salty)
-1 boiled egg
-1 packet of Sapporo miso ramen
-handful of bok choy (not pictured)
-1 hearty appetite

Chunks of spam.

Always hits the spot.

One Ramen to Go, Dog

Mithra's dog, Aga, guarding the ramen.

It's amazing what tukbokki (Korean rice cakes), SPAM and a sprinkling of seasoning can do for your ramen. I just consumed Hong Ramyun a minute ago, so I find it funny that somewhere in the world Epik High's Mithra was also making ramen. We could've been chomping on ramen at the same time...Of course, his looks a lot more spiffier than my sparse bowl.

Something else Mithra once blogged about stood out in my mind: "Blogs need love too." Even though I'm working now - and I'm all for employment! - I must remember to keep the dream alive. Writing (or typing) in this blog is a way for me to communicate my food/music/green whimsies to the public. After deducting the monthly $--- for student loans, I'm most definitely setting aside some dough for my Travel Fund.

That's for when I can actually take a vacation...explore the unusual, offbeat, five senses-pleasing things I want to pursue, and share 'em with you via pictures and text.

True, everyday we strugglin'

But not without a reason.

ONE.

'Hood Food

Fried rice made with leftover char siu (barbecued pork), eggs, scallions, soy sauce and spam. As you can see, spam is getting a run for its money in our house.

Baked ziti with fresh ricotta cheese and Bertolli olive & garlic tomato sauce.

Bronx. Straight up.

You may call it Vandalism. I call it Street Art.

Spam, Scallops and Spaghetti

First up: SPAM. Mom chopped up my left-over spam from the other day's musubi and mixed it with scrambled eggs, creating Spam & Eggs (now, she just needs a drop of green food coloring to make it Dr. Seuss-ian). Steamed chicken, shiitake mushrooms, choy sum and rice accompanied the dish.

Savona Serverware

Numero Dos: "Scallops" refers to the carefully scalloped edges of these hand-painted Mediterranean pasta bowls. These happen to be made in Portugal. No two bowls are exactly alike. Warm teal, honey and blue hues are painted in an intricate pattern, typical of the ancient Italian majolica Renaissance style. The earthenware ceramic is fired twice, preserving its brilliant colors.

Yes, it's okay to color outside the lines.

Making pasta with Mom.

Mom's a big fan of Lydia Bastianich. She followed Lydia's tips on making the spaghetti a chewy al dente that doesn't get clumpy or lose its elasticity. The trick is not to throw out your pasta water! When the pasta and sauce are almost thoroughly cooked, add a little starchy pasta water (the one you cooked the pasta in) and a tad of extra virgin olive oil to the mix. These two steps help the spaghetti and sauce stick together and retain its shape. The last thing you need is sauce falling off dry pasta (and into your shirt, no less). Lydia's technique led to zero saucy mess-ups. Here's to stain-free clothes!

Twirling makes me feel cool.

How to Make Spam: Girl Scout Version

Green Eggs & Spam...kind of.

"I do not like green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am."

You may recognize these words, spawned from the childhood staple by Dr. Seuss. While I'm all for the color green, today's activity does not involve green eggs. Or eggs, for that matter. Instead, I summoned up my inner Girl Scout and conjure up spam musubi without using a musubi maker.

Background: Spam is a familiar canned precooked meat produced by Hormel Foods Corporation. The classic variety of spam is made of chopped pork with ham added, salt, water, sugar and sodium nitrite to retain its (pink blob of a) color. Spam was created in 1937 and became a war-time staple in the U.S. during World War II when fresh meat was difficult to obtain. It especially caught on in Okinawa and the Philippine Islands and was even integrated into the local diet.

Spam musubi (pronounced moo-soo-bee, with no accent) originated in Hawaii and is modeled after Japanese onigiri (rice balls). In essence, it is made with nori as its base, pressed rice, sliced spam, another layer of rice, then everything pressed and rolled up tightly into a rectangular wedge. It's essential that the spam musubi be pressed compactly -- otherwise, it will crumble when you take a bite.

For those of you who can't imagine spam being anything near a delicacy, you must first understand that Hawaiians have a long-time love affair with spam. They eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, putting it in soup and stews. More than four million cans of Spam are consumed every year, and this just from Hawaii!

Sliced spam. Not cut with butter knife pictured.

Okay, so you're up on the history of spam musubi. Now you're probably thinking: How is it even possible to make spam musubi without the musubi maker? (It's all sold out on Amazon, as we speak.)

Ghetto musubi maker substitutes.

With this!

I scrounged up two soap dishes, which can easily be bought at your local dollar store. Next, I covered them with Saran wrap and aluminum foil, so as not to get any soap residue in my digestive tract (ew, gross). Above: I used the green soap dish as the top, to press the musubi down. You need a smooth edge to do that. Its partner-in-crime, the foil-masked dish, plays stand-in for the rice mold. In case you were wondering, that flaky green stuff in the back is nori. Hey, never promised this was a mess-free dish.

Click on the title for the Serious Eats' spam musubi recipe that I followed, which relies mostly on improvisation, but you can also check out a more structured version here.

Naked Spam: Up close and personal.

Even though it was originally known as "poor people food," I see spam as a yummy treat that combines the natural saltiness of spam and soy sauce with the sweetness of carmelized sugar and the crunchiness of nori. The hot rice absorbs any additional saltiness.

Jasmine tea to wash it all down.

From an economical perspective, a can of spam cost me $2.50 at H mart, 8 slices of nori cost $.75 each, 3 cups of short-grained rice cost something like $1.50. TOTAL: $4.25. Feeds four. That's about a buck apiece! Just add some vegetables on the side and you've got a meal.

Enough gushing from me -- go try some spam musubi for yourself! Dang, I should've just called this entry "Spam: A Tribute."

Day 8: When In Doubt, Go For the Spam

Sunday, I wandered the streets of Chinatown. This is one mural I found. It may be hard to see what the people in the picture are doing but on the right-hand side, a man is sitting down for a meal over a traditional glass tray table. The ladies around him are entertainers (probably similar to geishas in Japanese culture). On the left, men and women are drinking tea, playing traditional instruments and engaging in a game of go, which is popular with the Japanese but first originated with the Chinese in 2000 BC.



At Sam Woo Cafe, the glossy menu offered options aplenty, but I went for spam and rice. The soy sauce was an unnecessary addition, in my opinion, since the spam was salty enough as is. However, the rice soaked up any lurking saltiness. I ordered a red bean milkshake to wash it down. The day before, I filled up on some spam musubi at L&L Hawaiian Barbecue in Santa Monica. Two big portions of Japanese rice and seasoned spam wrapped in nori ($2.95) was more than enough for a snack. Oh yes, my spam fix was satiated.



It happened to be the Lantern Festival and the lion dance paraded around town, dancing into every retail store in Chinatown. An entourage of gongs, cymbals and local Chinese association members in black logo jackets followed closely on the lion's heels. The sharp -BAM!- of the firecrackers made my already deaf ears even more hard of hearing, and I couldn't shake the notion that it sounded like gunshots. (Henry, this one's for you.)



I met up with more relatives for dinner at Mountain Valley's Claim Jumper, where I had the Whiskey Chicken (which is actually a sweet, tangy apple glazed sauce over stuffing, mashed potatoes, biscuit and roasted vegetables). I prefer my vegetables a bit more cooked, but at least the crunchiness gave my teeth some exercise. The combination of three carbs on my plate translated into a doggy bag pile of leftovers. I love me some comfort food.



My uncle ordered the prime rib steak. Just take a look at that gargantuan baked potato smoldering with sour cream and chives. Now that's a baked potato done right!