Last night I had an amazing first experience with Korean food at a tiny, unassuming neighborhood restaurant. I believe have found my new comfort food. My fresh and colorful bibimbap arrived in a stone bowl, sizzling and steaming. Glorious.
Most of our family ordered slices of meat that they cooked for themselves on a circular slab tabletop grill. We lingered in conversation, enveloped in a cozy warmth and flavor, until closing time. It was all a person could desire from a shared family occasion.
The only drawback was this morning when I noticed my coat clung to the smell of the restaurant. It’s unfortunate. I smell like beef.