Korean Night

Who is the most Korean, based on looks?

There's one full Korean, one Korean American, one half Korean, and one adopted Korean. Which is which?

If you can't tell, I'm the most Korean, because I have the whitest face (and I'm surprised it isn't whiter, because it usually turns white as the snow in any camera with a flash...). Haha.

For one night and one night only, a little piece of Seoul came to Vail. Four Koreans sat down on the floor to enjoy a traditional-style Korean meal in a lovely T-Ridge apartment. As Jackie put it, "We were living like Kings," considering the number of side dishes we had.

We had galbi (marinated beef ribs) with sam (lettuce) and Sam Jung (soybean paste), bap (white rice, yay rice cooker!), kimchi (thank you City Market) and lots and lots of banchan (side dishes). Jackie and I, like true ajumas (direct translation: married women; implied translation: old ladies with perms serving food at Korean restaurants), slaved in the kitchen, making koung na mul soup (bean sprout soup) and hobok jeon (fried squash). Meanwhile, Maeng, the true Korean, prepared japchae (sweet potato starch noodles) and kimchi jeon (kimichi pancake). We grilled galbi on the table, thanks to my mom's ex-pancake maker, and sat on pillows around the coffee table. Very authentic, I know.

We chowed down fervently and talked Korean the whole night. We discussed our favorited Korean words, and reminisced about good ol' Korea, laughing about subtle and noticible differences in culture. Do you remember all the ladies shielding their white skin with sun umbrellas? Did you ever eat off those food carts? Do you know nightclub Juliana? You know the other Sincheon, on the green subway line...? Maeng was so impressed with my Korean knowledge, considering I'd only spent a few summers in Korea.

The evening was a hit, complete with a Febreze spray-down (a traditional way of hiding the smell of meat in your clothes) for those moving on to ii-cha (round two). It was just in time before the cops arrived.

Our pesky neighbors below rudely called the cops about our noisy celebration--which is poor form in this town. Considering that we wake up to the sound of his guitar blasting through the amp at 6:30am (thank you, Scott, for the beautiful demonstation), it seemed fair to have some people over for dinner before 10:00. Luckily, the cops understood it was our special Korean evening and were surprisingly excited to hear of all the different dishes we served up. I think they would have happily sat down to eat had I fixed them a plate--Everyone likes Korean food! Thankfully, the cops left us with a warning, noting, "Call us next time you make Korean food."