The Corner Place Korean BBQ

I was eating here, taking pictures and thumbing notes into my cell phone, when I realized Daily Gluttony already wrote up something about The Corner Place exactly one month ago to the day. Ahh, but it was the Cerritos location, and I'm eating at the OG, Old Skool, Real Killa Dilla Corner Chunk of Hole in Kizorea Tizown. K to da muthafukkin' T.



If you're not Korean, or haole like I am, you might be a tad lost in any of these joints. Everyone will make a painfully earnest effort to communicate, but don't be surprised if you accidentally order a clown hat full of candied eels instead of bulgogi. These kind of communication barriers inhibit unadulterated orders...and simultaneously build excitement in never knowing what you may get. Of course, I'm exaggerating...but only slightly.



I'm good about picking off what I know, and I have a vivid imagination of what the unidentifiable Korean appetizers could be. Kimchi, of course, bright red and fiery. Then there's pickled cucumber kimchi, which also has a nice heat on it. There are some candied jalapenos which really put the branding iron onto your tongue.



Now, I think the red strings are carrot peppers soaked with chipotle ginger marinade. Uh, the white vegetable floating in ice water is some kind of jicama. There were some white shredded shoestrings that were, I think pickled shoestrings. Oh, but the best condiment is the grassy knoll that accompanies the beef.



It's shredded and spiced green onion, cut into curly doodles. Awesome compliment to the beef. Now the last two dishes are fermented pinky toes that have blackeded from gangrene (oh, but they taste so sweet and pungent!) and marinaded sprouts. Of course, I know the pinky toes are soy beans, but I said I have a vivid imagination.



Again, one of the things I respect most of Asian food culture is the brutal honesty in which it is described and presented. Korean BBQ is a team sport, a primal exercise in community cooking and eating. The notion of paying someone to cook your own food is alien in almost all other restaurants, but look at the fun you're missing.

The pomp and circumstance of flames dancing in the middle of your table. The spectacle of carmelized beef smoking in a steep column up to the ventilator. The random risk of touching cooked meat with the same utensils that touch the raw meat (unless there's a trick I'm not aware of).

I'll tell you, when that plate of slaughtered animal arrives, I almost want to gnaw a raw piece right there.



But then, you'd miss the fun of cooking it.

Now, there's this matter of a secret cold noodle soup they make. More closely guarded than 7X, this soup has many odd and wild characteristics. Cold, sweet, sour and an undertone of musk, the noodles are firm and the broth is refreshing.



As I commented on Gluttony, I wouldn't kill my mother for a bowl of this soup. It's intriguing, but I'm not sure what all the fuss is about keeping the forumula secret or not allowing anybody to take any home. I do know she repeated a proffered theory they mix 7-Up in the base. Well, when I ordered a 7-Up, the lady said "Soup?" That could have been a dead giveaway.



It pairs nicely with 7-Up, and I could detect some distinct 7-Up currents, so she may be on to something.

Oh, they give you a tremendous amount of food, so if it just the two of you, don't make the mistake of ordering two meat dishes, you'll be carrying most of it home....except the soup, although I did get a pocketful of noodles.