The taxi-driver’s guide to the finest food on the planet
A bowl of doenjang jigae. By Daniel Jeffreys
However, there are consolations. If you work in Seoul you can watch soap operas as you drive, deny any knowledge of notable landmarks when approached by a Russian tourist and enjoy the thrill of speeding around Namsan’s sinuous curves with the panache ― but not the skill ― of Fernando Alonso.
And you also know where the best restaurants are hidden. It’s something I’ve noticed in every big city. There are always a small number of eateries, maybe no more than a half-dozen out of thousands, which always have dozens of cabs parked outside.
It’s as if the restaurateurs are handing out free beaded back mats or leopard skin seat covers, except they’re not. Their secret is that they provide excellent food at great prices and have an atmosphere that makes the cabbies feel a little less grumpy, if only for half an hour.
One such place sits just 100 meters from my apartment, down the hill from The Monstrous Carbuncle a k a the Grand Hyatt.
I noticed it first a few months ago. It was raining, which means it was a peak time for cabbies to make money. Nevertheless the Boreumdal (Full Moon) Korean restaurant had nine cabs parked outside. As desperate ajummas fought for space on crowded buses, the taxi drivers of Seoul were eating.
The sight reminded me of a similar experience I had in Manhattan. I was on Third Avenue around 32nd street. As rain lashed the battered tarmac, forming miniature lakes in the potholes, a battalion of yellow cabs formed outside one Indian restaurant. I went inside. The food was amazing.
Consequently I had high expectations of the Full Moon and I was not disappointed.
Diners fill the restaurant’s small rooms.
The menu was a large board affixed to the wall across from a sign that said “Welcome,” which was to be the only English word I encountered during my lunch. I ordered a doenjang jigae and a portion of bulgogi.
The first arrived in a traditional brown pot accompanied by a fine collection of banchan. These side dishes included three types of kimchi, some myeolchi (tiny fish) that had been marinated in what tasted like honey and ginger plus bean shoots.
All the banchan at Full Moon are prepared in the restaurant’s kitchen and the ingredients are usually purchased from itinerant vendors. They come past the restaurant at all hours of the day, their Bongo trucks laden with vegetables that have probably been picked within the last few hours.
There are no toques to be found in the Full Moon’s kitchen. Just three women with their sleeves rolled up. They move as if performing a ballet by Stravinsky, their limbs jerking and twitching as they fight for space in the tiny room. They produce hundreds of dishes a day and each one seems to be of the best quality, if my jigae is anything to go by. It was thick with beans, fresh peppers, shellfish, kimchi and tofu.
As I ate I was reminded of Popeye and his spinach, for this is the kind of food that gets under your skin and makes you want to run marathons. It was as if all the kinetic energy I had seen in the kitchen had been magically infused into the broth.
The side dishes also made a profound impression.
A Korean wine merchant recently told me that kimchi connoisseurs are like their enological equivalents. They can sense whether a batch of kimchi has been aged to the right extent and whether it counts as vintage. I thought he was talking patriotic tosh. Now I know he wasn’t, for the kimchi at the Full Moon was a revelation, being the banchan equivalent of a fine Bordeaux.
The vegetable, spinach, was fresh to a fault and the spicing was subtle but powerful, like a Mark Rothko painting.
The Boreumdal (Full Moon) Korean restaurant attracts taxi drivers from near and far
This set me thinking. The Full Moon has great food and it’s cheap. So, let’s have a new kind of food index for assessing restaurants.
There will be three variables: A score out of 100 for the food, the price in dollars and ambience, which will be rated between one and 10.
The food score will be divided by the price and then multiplied by the ambience rating to arrive at the final figure.
Hence a five-star restaurant might score 90 for food but costs $70 per person. That gives us 1.3. Being five-star, the restaurant would probably get a 9 for ambience: Final score 11.7.
Now, let’s try this with the Full Moon.
I give it 70 for its food. The bill was 20,000 won ($22) ― the jigae being 4,500 won and the bulgogi 15,500 won.
Seventy divided by 22 yields 3.2. The ambience score was 4 ― I mean I like sitting on the floor with a dozen cab drivers but it’s not to everybody’s taste ― which gives a total of 12.8.
And, gosh, that means this humble cabbie’s haunt could be placed higher than somewhere like the Grand Hyatt’s Paris Grill in the JoongAng Daily’s restaurant rankings.
No wonder so many cab drivers like the Full Moon.
Boreumdal (Full Moon)
English: Not spoken
Tel: (02) 797-6443
Address: Itaewon-2-dong, Yongsan-gu, 211-12
Parking: Available
Hours: 10 to 3 p.m., 6 to 10:00 p.m
Dress: Cabbie chic
By Daniel Jefffreys Style and Culture Editor [danielj@joongang.co.kr]
with the Korea JoongAng Daily
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