Schizophrenia in the kitchen

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Schizophrenia in the kitchen

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French Onion soup at Pichon, a pretty bistro in Hannam-dong.

Pichon in Hannam-dong is a perfect French restaurant in every respect, except for the food ― more on that later.
Meanwhile, Ca’ del Lupo, in Hyoja-dong, next to Gyeongbok Palace, is an Italian restaurant that’s hard to fault.
This high-toned eatery is in a hanok, accessed through a narrow alleyway opposite an apartment house built to resemble the Pantheon with Soviet-style window frames. Called “The White House,” it is a wonderful example of what makes Seoul’s architecture the envy of the world.
On a warm fall evening I went there with Professor Whang Sang-min, a psychologist from Yonsei University. He and I have been writing a book about Korean psychology and Ca’ del Lupo seemed like a good place for us to review our findings.
The weather being balmy, we sat in one of the hanok rooms off the main courtyard. The doors were open and if tables could marry ours looked like it was ready for its wedding day, being dressed in impeccable white linen and adorned with sparkling crystal that shone like diamonds.
There were four in our party and we ordered the prix fixe dinner menu. At 65,000 won per head ($72) it offers five courses.
With a warm breeze reminiscent of the mistral blowing off the bamboo nearby, we chose Chablis to start. At 50,000 won this crisp white wine with its hint of gooseberries seemed a fine way to take one’s mouth on an inexpensive visit to Southern France.
Bread arrived, big chunks of multi-grain, freshly baked and served with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Whang launched into one of his favorite themes.
“It’s impossible for Koreans to be optimistic for very long,” he said. “It’s just not part of their DNA.”
This seemed a little harsh, given our surroundings. Ca’ del Lupo is a seductive place. When eating there it’s easy to believe that Korea has it made. Not so, Whang said.
Before I could ask why, the first course arrived. It was a perfectly composed bowl of soup with leeks, chicken stock, a little cream and a deliciously granular texture that made eating it pleasurable for both the tongue and taste buds.
As we ate Whang explained that his research suggests Koreans are obsessed with education but are not worldly wise. For him, the Korean consciousness is constantly cleaved in two by the duality of external behavior and internal desires. He sees Korea’s rate of suicide and depression getting worse before it gets better.
These bleak thoughts might have cast a pall over the table, but we were all experienced pundits, so the mayhem described did not cause us any personal discomfort.
Instead we tackled a plate of grilled mushrooms dressed with balsamic and goat’s cheese and tried to understand why a young Korean girl would commit suicide because she had failed a university entrance test. Even more unfathomable was that she left a note saying, among other things, that she wished she had taken the civil service exam.
“Where was her family?” I asked. “I thought the family was a bulwark in Korea, the foundation of everything.”
“That’s another duality,” Whang said, as he sipped a fine Shiraz from the Penfold’s company ― priced at 80,000 won it had all the power and subtlety usually associated with a first-growth Chateauneuf du Pape.
“The Korean family is a great source of support in good times,” the professor continued, as his filet steak arrived. “However, get on its wrong side, break the rules, and it will squash you like a bug.”
I was trying to squash some bugs myself. The one drawback of the semi-al fresco arrangement at Ca’ del Lupo is that mosquitoes, at this time of year, are also very fond of dining here. I imagined a Mosquito Michelin guide in which the well-upholstered flesh of the restaurant’s well-heeled diners gets three stars. Across the courtyard the tiny vampires were having a jaebeol chairman for their main course and his wife, marinated in Chanel No. 5, for dessert.

테스트

Pichon’s spaghetti tastes too much like dessert. By Ko Juran

As I became adept at shoveling pieces of delicately roasted lamb into my mouth with one hand, while swatting mosquitoes with the other, I noticed something odd. The chef, who until now had been flawless, had decided to put a slice of pineapple beneath the lamb chops. I was aghast. Here was evidence that the sickly sweet virus that invades so many Seoul kitchens, drenching savory dishes in sugar, had established a bridgehead in Ca’ del Lupo.
I beg the chef to invest some time in buying fresh mint and marrying it with malt vinegar. That is the correct way to serve lamb, not as a garnish to a piece of tropical fruit.
My fellow diners had better luck with their steak. The center was pink, the outside perfectly seared in its own juices. Vegetables were baby potatoes and sauteed greens.
As we awaited dessert we sipped the remains of the Shiraz. In the soft light the white painted ends of the hanok’s roof beams stood out like stars in the night. Here was an ancient building, designed to create a spiritual harmony between people and their habitat, turned over to a modern use. It had survived the transition and was clearly prospering. Will Korea, just as ancient, with just as many modern aspirations, fare as well?
“Koreans are schizophrenic about happiness,” Whang said. “That’s why we will always struggle. For a Korean, happiness is always fleeting. That’s why Koreans are negative about the success or happiness of others.”
That was a lot to chew on, which was more than can be said for the dessert. Apparently the pastry chef had the night off, or maybe he had been eaten by mosquitoes, or abducted by Ok So-ri. In any event, we were given a plate of fruit. Nothing else, just fruit. Now that’s something I could get depressed about.
However, I should not carp. Overall, Ca’ del Lupo is a delight. So what of Pichon? This restaurant did not want to be reviewed ― “We’re always full, we don’t need a review,” they said, peevishly ― and its chef did not want his food to be photographed. So, I won’t review Pichon. However, I did eat there. The food is mediocre, and although it pretends to be French, it is, like the wealthy ladies who lunch there, just some tired Korean dishes in French clothing.
Pichon
English: Spoken and on menu
Tel: 720-4490
Address: Hannam-dong
Subway: Itaewon Station
Parking: Some spaces outside
Hours: 11:00 a.m to 2:30 p.m. and 6:00 p.m to 10:00 p.m, seven days
Dress: Chanel or Armani

Ca’ del Lupo
English: spoken and on menu
Tel: 734-5233
Address: Hyoja-dong
Subway: Gyeongbokgung Station
Parking: Some spaces outside
Hours: 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. and 5:30 p.m to 10:00 p.m , 6 days
Dress: Smart casual

By Daniel Jeffreys Features Editor [dan7jeffreys@aol.com]
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