Go Go Gogi

The first three days of my week were saturated in pig fat.

Perhaps it was the need of the residents of Jeju Island to forget the tragedies of the previous weekend that led to their desire to eat plate after plate of pork cuts, or maybe it was simply a continuation of that same bad karma that stuck me in the middle of that storm. In the end, the fact remains the same: I consumed somewhere around 3 pounds of pure, solid pork insulation over the course of three days. I want to blame something besides myself for this occurance, maybe the 5th grade teachers who insisted I came out to lunch with them or the mandatory all-staff dinner I attended... but I know that it's nobody's fault but my own.

I have spoken before about samgyeopsal, the pork cut with three layers of fat on it. Well, this week, I was introduced to o-gyeopsal, with an absurd 5 layers of fat on it. It was, however, but one of many new cuts of meat I tried this week. You see, I have know for a while that the Korean word gogi means meat... but I didn't fathom that one could walk into a restaurant and simply say "Gogi!" to recieve a platter of meat as wide and high as a deep-dish extra-large pizza. I had two experiences with this 'gogi' this week, the first being when the school's cafeteria was closed on Monday, having lost either electricity or running water as a result of the storm, and I was thus invited out to lunch with the fifth grade teachers. It was delicious, though as one might expect, the o-gyeopsal's overabundance of fat was a bit overwhelming. In a single cut, it was as much fat as it was pork.

I went home feeling rather unhealthy, though quite full and satisfied. The real problem with such meals is that it isn't just a bunch of fatty pork-- no, there is so much more. Recalling the list of foods that promote stomach problems, I believe we have them all: garlic is roasted on the top of the metal slab, with greasy, popping slabs of meat resting just below. The bottom is lined with kimchi, the pickled and spicy national cabbage of Korea, which catches and absorbs the fat running down the board. As I said before, the Koreans love their fat, and seem to want to make sure that none of it escapes being consumed. The drink of choice for meals like this? Soju. I believe I have written about soju before, but I have just learned a new fact (one which explains the headaches):

(from Wikipedia)
From 1965 until 1991, in order to alleviate rice shortages, the Korean government prohibited the traditional methods of distilling soju from pure grain. Soju was then made primarily through dilution by mixing pure ethanol with water and flavoring. The vast majority of inexpensive soju available today is produced in this manner.

What better way to chase down such a meal than with grain alcohol cut with sugar and water? I will say, I have grown to like soju, as it is cheap and, in my opinion, better tasting than vodka or tequila and such. It's much worse for you, however, and is drank straight up and not mixed.

So after leaving lunch on Monday, I went home to try to rest for a while. Soon thereafter, Alicia came home and told me we had been invited to dinner by some of our friends. Though I was incredibly full, the prospect of waiting a few hours and eating Lotteria (Korean McDonalds) by myself was much more unappealing. So, we walked down the hill, and towards the samgyeopsal restaurants. I panicked.

Now, there is an entire alley full of grill-your-own-meat restaurants in the back streets of City Hall. The fierce competition between them has led them all to employ a man simply to stand in the street outside their establishment and loudly extol their quality cuts. We have traditionally chosen to avoid these places and instead go to the unannounced yet completely packed restaurant near the middle of the alley. Despite often having to wait for a table, it is the clear choice. And they have free soda.

Despite promising myself I would take it easy, I ate another full meal, and finished it with something wholly unexpected: the remaining pork and kimchi was mixed with rice, chili paste, a fried egg, and CHEESE! It is such a rare occurance to find cheese in Korean cuisine that I felt obligated to soldier on and eat my portion.

Wednesday came, and I arrived at school to learn that class was cancelled, at least for me, since my third co-teacher with whom I was to teach class that day was entertaining the district supervisor as he toured the school. I was told that the entire teaching staff would be going out for dinner... and I can't say I was suprised to find out that we would be again eating the gogi platter. Now, there was a certain feeling of obligation for each table to finish the entire plate, which might have been a cultural thing, and sitting at a table with three women, one of who was on a diet, made that task very hard. But I did, and I soon regretted it.

I went out with the sixth grade teachers afterwards, and we finally were able to talk to each other... a bar is a better environment than the teachers' lounge at 9 am for breaking the ice. I guess I more or less had my introduction into the world of Korean social outings. I went home around 11pm, but they apparently stayed out and sang at a karaoke bar until 1 or 2 in the morning... and were visibly affected the next day in school. There is a microwave ramen type of thing that is supposed to help hangovers, and they had a full pallet in the lounge the next morning.

Chuseok is coming this next week, so I'm looking at a five-day weekend, which means I get to do a lot of the things I've been reading about since long before I came here. Looking forward to sannakji, Seogwipo, the beaches (I hope they weren't washed away), and...

Jeju Loveland.