Galbi - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

I ate Korean barbecue last night, and I noticed that the galbi here had meat and tendon together. I thought this was an invention of the Taiwanese, adding Q to an otherwise Q-less dish. I got excited—Asian fusion, baby! My internet research upon returning home shows that, among the varieties of galbi, there’s L.A. style and Korean style galbi, both made with beef short ribs, but cut differently. L.A. style is made from the cut of beef short ribs you can find in U.S. supermarkets; it’s cut perpendicular to the bone, giving many pieces of meat and bone together, while Korean style is cut parallel to the bone, yielding one big piece of meat with tendon together. A skeptic might call this synchronicity between Korean creation and Taiwanese taste a mere coincidence, but I have no doubt that fusion at this level is nothing short of fate.

Korean cold noodles (via shimmertje)

I realize that I’m late to the game on this, but just how great are Korean cold noodles? They’re pretty great. I’ve eaten 4 bowls just this month. A few days ago, I went to a nearby Korean restaurant for the purpose of eating me some Korean cold noodles. Before I got my bowl of noodles, I chowed down on some of the small plates they brought around, and I found a bug inside of my vegetables. It looked like a doodlebug, but straighted out and squishy, as you might expect to be after getting sautéed. I went into the restaurant with my mind stuck on Korean cold noodles, but when I left, all I could think about was that doodlebug in my vegetables. How crazy is that? That’s what I’ve been calling in my head lately the evanescence of life.

Sausage-in-sausage (via yongfook)

I was talking with James about favorite things you enjoy doing, and how some of those things are complimentary in a way allowing you to string them together to build fun on top of fun. For me, for example, there’s nothing better than eating a huge breakfast/brunch and then taking an epic nap. That’s one of my favorite things in this world to do. A huge nap on its own is ok and a huge breakfast is ok (but I’m liable to be tired), but together, it’s next level bliss. But I can make it even better by, say, eating a greasy breakfast, then coming home and eating a bunch of watermelon (straight off the rind, of course), and then taking an epic nap. A bonus there is that when I wake up from the nap, I’m likely to pee for god knows how long, and if I’m lucky i’ll even get a pee shiver at the end. Give me a huge, greasy breakfast, watermelon off the rind, an epic nap, an epic piss, and then a pee shiver, and I’m in heaven.

I want to contrast this with a phenomena I want to call sausage-in-sausage. (I believe my use of the phrase in this way is google unique.) Sausage-in-sausage is a combination of things that is not complimentary in any way—the combination makes the whole worse. I just got back from Shilin night market where my cousin told me about sausage-in-sausage (pictured). I thought it was meat sausage wrapped meat sausage, but it’s actually meat sausage wrapped in a sticky rice sausage which functions as a bun, basically giving the classic meat and carbohydrates combo. Even though the concept of sausage-in-sausage is actually incorrect as applied to sausage-in-sausage, it evoked in me a broader notion. For instance, a common breakfast in Taiwan is the shao bing you tiao, which is fried dough wrapped with fried dough. It’s disgusting/redundant/makes no sense. Sausage-in-sausage also evokes “sausage fest” which is a gathering we all know isn’t any fun for lack of balance and any intelligent principle of organization. Sausage-in-sausage is the opposite of a huge, greasy breakfast, followed by watermelon off the rind, an epic nap, an epic peepee, and then an epic pee shiver.