Out & About #592 | The Korean Kitchen

​The precise meaning of a "friend" differs from person to person. For some, it describes an entity whom with one has spent the longest portion of his or her life, while others may depict it as someone who shares roughly the same geographic coordinates, thus permitting frequent meet-ups.

My lack of local friends has never failed to raise eyebrows. Yet, I am one to believe that friendship oughtn't to possess physical boundaries. The start of a friendship lies not with residential proximity, but rather a shared connection - a fated encounter that interests both and discourages neither. Sometimes, it is a shared fondness for exploring potentially overrated eateries in the city.
​In many cases, it is the unyielding affection for our support system: a K-Pop group that deserves nothing but our adoration and admiration.

​Fast forward about three months, it felt as if it was just yesterday that my Thai ahgase and I were dancing along to the encore tracks at the Keep Spinning World Tour in Toronto. She had left for the motherland not long after, while I had slowly grown accustomed to my new schedule.
The seasons had changed when we were reunited, though the fire within remained as passionate as the concert day.

We took to our regular Koreatown excursion, for the Bloor-and-Christie strip offers convenience as well as variety. Swinging by Hair Bank for a quote led us to feast our eyes on the wooden exterior that would soon be Daldongnae. It stirred up the meat-lover within one of us (Hint: it wasn't me).

​​Eighty minutes of coin karaoke equated to fifteen dollars, each song demanding a seventy-five cent fee. Though the booth was warmer than we would have liked, the experience was nonetheless enjoyable.

​Continuing on with the fun, we strode about the area in evaluation of our dinner options. Burning Friday, a recent addition to the lineup, had piqued our interest initially. Perusing the menu after our dehydrating singing sesh though, it suddenly didn't seem as attractive anymore.

Thus, we retraced our steps, hopping onto the front steps of The Korean Kitchen.

​More pub than restaurant, the establishment was home to an impressive count of alcoholic arrays, not exempt of cocktails either. Homestyle cooking in the form of jjajangmyeon and mandu-gook were absent; in their stead were bar snacks: chicken wings, bulgogi fries, and the shop's signature jokbal. Three varieties of pigs' feet (or pork hock) were available: Original, Garlic, and Spicy. A Half & Half option pairing the latter two flavours was an apparent popular choice.

At our time of entry, the restaurant housed only one other table. Staff members were still in the midst of opening preparations, evident by the hazardous puddle of water by the bathrooms that had been left unattended. The female member of staff came around to take our orders early on in the evening, speaking English in a more eloquent tone than expected. Her goth-like appearance caught me slightly off guard at first: the bold red lips against ashy white skin, the Emily the Strange haircut with blunt bangs, and the menacing nose ring contributed to an aura of mystery. Clad in a grey sweatshirt and jeans, the male member of the serving staff sported a decidedly average appearance in comparison. His skills at articulating the English language also revealed themselves at a surprisingly consistent level.

Our table order comprised of Fish Ball Soup, a Seafood Pancake, and a Half & Half Pork Hock with sauces on the side. Makgeolli and Sprite were also requested, and along with them came a bucket of high-sodium popcorn and edible twigs (fried noodles perhaps?) coated with cinnamon sugar.

The Fish Ball Soup was not mild, as one would expect. A sip of the broth warned of ghastly peppers and, soon enough, jalapeno slices began to make their appearance. The fish balls were standard fare - as standard as frozen fish balls could be. Flat fish cakes à la aburaage jackets, chunks of agar jelly,  and scallop-like ddeokbokki segments filled the remainder of the bowl.
One bowl in and the concoction was deemed too fiery for comfortable consumption.

​Next came the jokbal/족발, with freshly-washed lettuce and a range of dipping sauces on the side. Garlic was sweet, aromatic, and unmistakably garlicy; Spicy was a tarter, chunkier take on plain gochuchang. A nutty, savoury dip was also presented, but our hearts had already been captivated by the yellow-red duo.
Collagen-filled pieces of pork hock were swiftly devoured. It was promptly concluded that The Korean Kitchen's version was far tastier than the saran-wrapped trays from the likes of Galleria or P.A.T.

​The Seafood Pancake was added to the roster as a source of heartiness. The undeniably oily round was said to form a classic pairing with makgeolli, so we took the opportunity to test this theory. On a personal note, I prefer the carbonated rice wine with a source of lean protein. Squid bits were scarce between the crisp layers of batter, leaving lengthy stalks of scallion as the principal stuffing.

Be mindful of the ledge leading up to the individual washroom stalls. The wooden interior is interesting, as is the Jack Daniels soap dispenser. Cleanliness levels were passable; points were deducted only for the finicky soap pump and partially broken toilet handle.

​In hopes of walking off feelings of satiation, we headed over to P.A.T., where another LINE Friends edition of Pepero was secured as part of a 2 for $2.99 deal.

​Against our better judgement, we waltzed over to Kevin's Taiyaki...and left with two Custard Taiyaki in hand.

​The evening ended on a rough note with subway delays and a thirty-minute police investigation that had GO Train riders yearning for the comfort of their own vehicles.

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