It’s time to tell you about my trip to South Korea. I wasn’t thinking about it every waking moment, but I really wanted to understand the culture behind the Korean influences on Zhazhda Krovi’s menu. To hear about it first-hand, from the people creating it.
At the Megustro food forum in St. Petersburg on 2 October, I said that you can’t really understand a cuisine without understanding its cultural roots. A palette of flavours doesn’t appear from nowhere — and you need to find your own place in it too.
It began with a four-and-a-half-hour wait to take off from Sheremetyevo. Our plans were slowly unravelling, and the chance of a walk around Beijing was slipping away. The passenger next to me kept eating: pâté that smelled of old tinned food, then a spice cake, then a bun filled with hot Olivier salad. Every time I woke up, the same runway lights were still there. Finally, take-off. Eight hours to Beijing, a dash for the connection, then another two hours — and there was Seoul. We caught a bus and headed straight to the first restaurant on our food tour: Vinho, with colleagues from Coffeemania and Katya Pugacheva leading the way. Modern Korean cooking, and a team working like clockwork. The menu changes daily; we’d already missed the truffle pasta. We spent the entire first day sitting: plane, restaurant, bar. We called it our “square-bum day”.
That evening, we went to Zest, one of the best bars in Asia and the world. It’s hard to imagine how much work lies behind those titles. Running the best restaurant or bar means responsibility and constantly creating something new. We stayed in the south of the city, at L7 Gangnam. Symbolically, but without “the one”.
The next morning, we had breakfast at Standard Bread. The bread was wonderful. One loaf held a pool of melted dark chocolate; another, salted butter. We were hungry and ordered five (!) skillets of eggs, meatballs and truffle cream with bacon. Good thing we didn’t order eight, as we’d first planned. There were eight of us: Arthur, Vika, Kostya, Katya, Vika, Katya, Tanya and me. Our guide, Nastya, deserves a special thank you for her patience and endless stories. Koreans really love coffee. There are cafés on every corner, and they take it seriously: curiosity, care and a willingness to experiment. Iced coffee, bubble drinks, unexpected variations — you’ll find it all. Lunch was at Toc Toc, with its Michelin recognition and European influences. The pasta wasn’t quite for me, honestly, but it was still an experience worth having.
Born and Bred. A restaurant worth travelling to Korea for. A chef and butcher working closely together, with marbled Hanwoo beef. It isn’t as heavily marbled as Japanese Wagyu, but its sweetness and character make it distinctive. An unmistakable combination. The restaurant is right in the market, among stalls selling meat and offal. The first floor is à la carte; the second serves a tasting menu. That’s where we ate. Fourteen courses, nose to tail: broth made from the head, rump tartare, grilled skirt steak and asado-style striploin. Kimchi, sprouts and sauces bring out each dish. The tableside cooking, the stories and the service were impeccable. It meant a lot that the chef and butcher were interested in our approach to meat and our fermentation room with mould, and said they might come and visit. We were on the same wavelength, sharing experience, ideas and philosophy. If you go, say hello for me!
We kept our last evening — there were only three — simple: plastic chairs outside 7-Eleven, limited-edition soju and champagne. We talked, laughed, compared notes and ate kimchi. Three days isn’t enough to understand the soul of Korea. But it was enough to feel the balance: a rebellious streak and tradition, a love of fermentation and respect for other cultures. A smile and a bow are always a good way to greet someone.
A huge thank you to Katya Pugacheva for organising the trip, and to Nastya for her wonderful stories.
한국에 오신 것을 환영합니다
Film development (push +1 stop) and scanning — fotolab.ru
