Korean Oranges

I like to call cheap, fast, diner-like Korean restaurants Oranges. I’m not sure what their real name is because I am not sleeping with a Korean girl. I call them Oranges, not because of a tired peel and get the fruit metaphor but because the exterior (sometimes interior) of every one I’ve ever experienced radiates orange. I am sure there is a very good reason for this. I don’t care to hear it. I liken them to westernworld-style truck stop diners because I think that the food they serve is what Korean people eat at home every night. I have a feeling this may be a jingoistic assumption akin to the Korean one that truck stop food is what Canadians and Americans eat at home every night. Food that poses as mother’s kitchen fare when in reality it is born and bred for cheap, filling-300-orders-an-hour-style restaurant cooking.

Hearty, inexpensive food like this has an obvious downside in that some of it is disgusting. The popular dongkass is a deep fried pork cutlet served with rice, corn and a brown gravy and is a testament to the success of President Roo Myu Hyun’s oft criticized “Korean Chef-Lynryd Skynrd familiarity” initiative . The dongkass is not deep fried in a trendy, romantic Japanese panko crust fashion. It is a thin piece of reconstituted pork, deep fried and served with sides that follow suit. A step up from the dongkass are ramyeong noodles. Artists like Lee Sang-Wook and that David Chang use ramen noodles to create visually impressive, inedible installations and like to pose afterwards in an ironic “look what I just made out of nothing” b-boy stance. Orange restaurants gussy them up and serve them at a 200% markup just like real restaurants do with real food. A bowl of instant noodles, with an egg, whatever greens are on hand, either land or sea scraps and Korean red pepper paste costs about 2 dollars (American, obviously). If you like noodle soups and your grandfather wasn’t in ‘Nam you will enjoy.

Gimbap is Korea’s answer to a western-style sushi roll and is the reason Oranges exist. The two standard ingredients are gim (seaweed, nori, whatever) and bap (rice). After that it’s kind of like going to Harvey’s. Julienned carrots, fish paste, pickled radish are all fairly standard options. Good main ingredients include kimchi, canned tuna and processed ham. Gimbaps are far better than the sum of their parts. If you can mime that you do not want mayonnaise you are in for a pretty good feed, especially if you choose to dine in.

It is also vital to note that Oranges are the Barack Obama of forced sides. Liberal in appearance, not policy. You may feel a world of option and change is possible, but in reality you are restricted to some unpalatable options to go with the good stuff. Yes, I like the consomme with green onions, the kimchi, the mushrooms, peppers and onions in oil and the potato salad. I could do without the ham covered in egg and the dried "c'mon Choi just throw him back" fish. These sides accompany every meal and I feel like Koreans and bold foreign invaders can refill them as they see fit.

At the top end of the spectrum you have your kimchi jigaes and your dolsat bibimbaps. Dolsat bibimbap is a rice, vegetable and sometimes protein dish served and cooked in hot stone bowl. The central flavour is Korean red pepper paste and little else which is fine. The rice continues to cook as you eat and develops a better texture as you reach the late innings. Dolsats can be too oily or not oily enough but neither of these scenarios is a deal-breaker. Kimchi jigae is thick soup, cooked and served, like a dolsat, in a stone bowl. Considering there is no stock involved, the flavour is impressive. The kimchi discards its fermented onion and garlic juices into water and creates a thick, spicy, warm broth. Greens and vermicelli are fairly standard. Throw away cuts of beef, shellfish and canned tuna have all made appearances as the money-shot ingredient. The whole process from order to table takes about 4 minutes. The canned tuna (chonchi jigae) option is my personal favorite. It is remarkable that pickled cabbage and Aisle 5 tuna can combine to create such a soup. Rice is always served with jigae and is best used in the soup itself. As the stew boils in its bowl the rice absorbs most of the liquid, thickening the broth and cooling the jigae. Depending on the amount of rice you add, you can begin eating soup and finish eating a rice dish. The change in texture that one experiences during the dining process with dolsat bibimbap or kimchi jigae is impressive. Not impressive like the existence of South Korea given its proximity to China and Japan. Impressive like the Big Tymers or Jose Canseco. Simplicity breeding brilliance.

Cost-based justifications aside, Orange restaurants are a great way to eat. The range is wide, they are unpretentious to a fault and you will stumble upon some top drawer dishes. The people, like the food, are welcoming. Or unwelcoming in a fun way. It doesn’t matter. A truck stop wouldn’t be a truck stop if Debbie didn’t smile at you one day and tell you to fuck off the next.