Korea Slow Trip - Jeju's BBQ Black Pork and Beltfish Stew


The sizzle of red meat and oil was fully crackling as the smokey aroma of charred fat filled the room, despite the latest in Korean restaurant ventilation at this fancy BBQ joint. We're having the designated Korean natural monument of Jeju heuk dwaeji, the offshore province's precious breed of native black pigs widely considered the 1++ hanwoo of pork -- the rarest and best of Korea.

Not that this absolutely can't be found on the Korean mainland, but there have been too many reports of fake Jeju Black Pork at Seoul's samgyeopsal outlets. So we took advantage of our four days in Jeju to savour this rare gastronomic treat, sampling it twice at two recommendable black pork restaurants.

Restaurant Review: KEUNDONGA (큰돈가) (Jeju) (see map)


The anticipation was so high that we made it our first proper meal upon arrival, a ravenous late lunch on a rare snow day on the subtropical island when we desperately needed some extra blubber. Tucked away on a remote stretch of Jeju-do's southern shore is the upscale BBQ restaurant of Keundonga, applauded by numerous Korean bloggers and featuring a photo wall of visiting K-pop celebrities to substantiate its reputation.


Ordering was a mere formality as the specialty restaurant featured one and only one menu item, a 600g mix of choice cuts from Jeju's native breed of small, slow-growing pigs once considered economically disadvantageous for commercial production. Even today the island barely produces enough for internal consumption, let alone exporting to the Korean mainland.


Genuinely flame-broiled on a charcoal fire and enhanced by a plethora of traditional and novel flavourings -- matcha salt from Jeju's tea plantations, Himalayan rock salt, grilled daepa scallion, old school ssamjang and raw garlic for the orthodox -- our pork was respectfully raised to a level of sophistication worthy of its lineage ... and price tag.


Note the inconspicuous tub of brown liquid being boiled on the grille -- this would be the defining condiment for an authentic Jeju barbecue. While the rest of Korea uses the pungent myeolchi-jeot, or fermented anchovies, for kimchi production, the natives of Jeju-do has long appreciated this complex, briny extract as the perfect dipping sauce for barbecued black pork.


Here comes the moment of truth: was this Jeju black pork better than good old Korean moksal?

To be honest the difference wasn't dramatic, but the meat was noticeably chewier with more intense meaty flavours, somewhere between regular pork and beef. The proprietor came by and we had a good chat comparing Jeju black pork with Spanish iberico, both purported to have inherited more wild boar genes than typical domesticated pigs and thus containing a higher percentage of red muscle fibres.


Then there's a less palatable explanation connoted by the Jeju pig's nickname: ddong dwaeji, or literally shit pigs. In the olden days when most islanders lived in farmhouses, pigpens were typically built beneath the toilets as a gutsy ... ahem ... waste recycling measure. While those old enough to remember the 1960's may swear that pork used to taste better, we are fully satisfied with today's Jeju pork, its clean, uncomplicated flavours deriving from the island's mineral-rich underground waters. Or at least that's the theory.


No matter which theory you subscribe to, Jeju's black pig makes seriously great barbecues on par in my mind with a perfectly grilled secreto ibérico. If you're one of those who normally turn away from samgyeopsal for its oiliness, try wrapping a crispy morsel of Jeju black pork in vinegared radish or marinated rapeseed leaf.


If you ask me, the best companion to Jeju black pork is still the regional favourite of myeolchi-jeot, available here as souvenirs in sealed jars. We barely had room to finish the complimentary doenjang-jjigae -- 600g of barbecued pork was really more than what we're used to.

Meal for Two Persons
Jeju Black Pork 600g54000 Won
TOTAL54000 Won (CAD$62)


If 54000 Won sounds expensive for black pork samgyeopsal, just remember that it's a reasonable 9000 Won per 100g -- not much more than the going rate of 8000 Won at the time of writing in Seoul ... and that's for regular pork. For those on a tighter budget there are more options at Jeju City, as we can also attest.

Restaurant Review: TABBUPYEONG SIKDANG (탑부평식당) (Jeju) (see map)


The tourism hub of Jeju City is well-known for its various food streets: Guksu-geori for noodles or Hoetjib-geori for raw fish. And for the island's signature black pork, it has an entire block of a dozen restaurants known collectively as Heukdwaeji-geori, all serving essentially the same menus and competing for the same clientele. It's an old school strategy that worked back in Jeju's heyday as the Hawaii of Korea, but these days it's a battlefield of cutthroat competition -- and good news for adventurous foodies.


A reasonable 38000 Won (CAD$44) bought this entire table of food and then some: 200g of samgyeopsal (three-layered pork belly), 200g of moksal (pork shoulder), a variety of banchan sizzling on the hotplate, ssam for wrapping, steamed egg served in its customary ttukbaegi, a piping hot soup of doenjang-jjigae to follow, and finishing with a fried rice of whatever remains on the hotplate.


Look at the beautiful caramelization on the samgyeopsal -- technically this isn't barbecue per se, but searing at very high temperatures on a convex iron plate designed for keeping the meat dry. Also note the brownish pork skin in the foreground, a freebie which surprisingly became the best part of the meal.


Moksal or samgyeopsal? That's an endless debate for many Korean pork lovers. While I normally prefer moksal as a leaner cut, in the case of Jeju black pork I really love the samgyeopsal with its firmer meat between layers of chewy skin and connective tissues. It's less heavy than you think.


I love pork skin in its multitude of forms, whether on a Spanish cochinillo or atop a cube of Shanghainese red-braised pork. But never in my travels have I come across a slice of pork skin in this heavenly chewy texture, marinated in soy sauce and delightfully non-oily. In fact it's almost perfectly bubble-gum-chewy, with just the right amount of elasticity to bounce the teeth back. This was borderline magical.


Technically the pork here wasn't any cheaper than our lunch spot above -- the benchmark pricing of 9000 Won per 100g seemed to apply everywhere on Jeju-do. But the choice of cut was leaner here, the pork skin phenomenal, and the freebies of gyeran-jjim (steamed egg, pictured above) and doenjang-jjigae (below) were more filling at a cheaper overall price for the meal.


For even cheaper prices the restaurant also offers regular pork at a 20% discount, but that's more for locals who could get their own regional delicacy anytime. For us visitors though, 18000 Won (CAD$21) per person was an excellent price for a full feast of Jeju black pork.


Don't forget to pay the nominal 2000 Won (CAD$2) for this bokkeumbab, stir-fried in front of your eyes with the leftover cabbage and sprouts kimchi and fresh scallions and seaweed -- a perfect finish to a satisfying feast.

Did I mention that the owner gifted us a souvenir box of Jeju blackberry chocolate at the end? Great food, generous portions and friendly service for merely 19000 Won per person -- it's a near impossible combination to beat.

Meal for Two Persons
Black Pork Moksal 200g18000 Won
Black Pork Samgyeopsal 200g18000 Won
Bokkeumbab2000 Won
TOTAL38000 Won (CAD$44)

For those who prefer seafood to pork, I already wrote another review on Jeju's famous abalones and raw fish. And if you prefer your fish well done, here's one more authentic eatery for another local delicacy.

Restaurant Review: SOKCHO SIKDANG (속초식당) (Jeju) (see map)


This specialty restaurant is all about one dish. Forget everything else on its Korean language menu and watch how every table orders the same giant claypot of sizzling red concoction. In fact you may well offend your serving ajumma if you fail to order at least one of their famous fish jorim. Welcome to Jeju's own Soup Nazi.


And winter happened to be peak season for fresh beltfish, central ingredient to one of Korea's favourite fish stews, the homey galchi jorim with its thick, saucy pungency. Seoulites may argue that Namdaemun Market is the national epicentre for galchi jorim with an entire block specializing on this one dish, but most of Seoul's beltfish actually come from Jeju's warm waters. If you crave absolute freshness, this is where it's at.


That said, freshness has its price as a large pot of galchi jorim -- enough for two or three to share -- set us back a cool 50000 Won compared with the going price of 8000 Won per person at Namdaemun. Just like at Namdaemun, the spicy stew does come with grilled beltfish tail as banchan.


At this price we're expecting one of the best dishes of our trip, and it was.

Where freshness is absolute key to a challenging fish known to spoil almost as quickly as mackerel, this seaside hangout -- half a block inland from Jeju's fishing fleet -- delivered the perfectly rich-tasting galchi without any unpleasant fishiness, all brought together by the addictive, syrupy spiciness of the thick red gravy. Yet my favourite part of the dish wasn't even the beltfish itself, but the tender joseonmu radish that had absorbed the umami essences of the fish and the fermented anchovy broth. While the price could have been less steep, this was honestly the most saliva-inducing dish of our 16 day trip.

Meal for Two Persons
Galchi Jorim50000 Won
Rice x 22000 Won
TOTAL52000 Won (CAD$60)

Barely a month after returning from Korea, my wife was already asking me about revisiting Jeju in the warm season. And considering Jeju's unbeatable one-two punch of the best pork barbecue in Korea as well as the freshest seafood, I'm certainly open to the idea.

Korea Slow Trip - Seriously Authentic Seafood in Jeju


Live sea bream served raw as hoe. Abalones served raw, stewed or atop a dolsot rice seasoned with abalone liver pâté. Beltfish at peak winter season served in an addictively spicy stew. We had a lot of seafood dishes over 16 days in Korea, but my personal favorite was right here on Jeju Island.

All this wouldn't be possible without help from local foodies and their Korean language blogs. Don't expect English menus at the eateries reviewed below; expect the most authentic regional cuisine instead.

Restaurant Review: YONGCHUL HOETJIB (용출횟집) (Jeju) (see map)

This was my favorite meal of our 16-day journey: seafood so fresh they were still moving; motherly service from the gracious ajumma; traditional Jeju specialties with impossibly generous portions. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.


Evidently most popular among an entire row of hoetjib -- Korean for raw fish houses -- on the shoreline west of Jeju City, Yongchul is one of those highly specialized restaurants focussing on one thing: it's own daily selection of whatever is fresh from local fishing boats. Every table aside from ours spoke Korean, including a neighbouring table of Korean and Japanese salarymen enjoying a business dinner with too many bottles of Soju. Needless to say there would be no English menu.


The only choice the customer gets is the species of fish for main course: 100000 Won/Kg for the more affordable hwangdom to a cool 180000 Won/Kg for the exquisite gatdom (i.e. ishidai to sashimi connoisseurs, see my related post from West Japan). The friendly ajumma noticed how clueless these two Canadians were, and recommended 1 kg of hwangdom (황돔), the Jeju specialty of yellow sea bream and a relatively rare fish to be found on Korean Mainland.


Now 100000 Won (CAD$115) for two wasn't cheap even for Korean seafood aficionados, but wait until you see the variety, quality as well as quantity of local specialities to come, starting with this incredibly fresh turban shell, thickly sliced for added crunch and perfect as appetizer with cho-gochujang or wasabi.


Any seafood dinner in Jeju wouldn't be complete without the precious abalone, undisputed king of Korean shellfish and the highly esteemed harvest from the haenyeo, Jeju's dying tradition of female freedivers who risk their lives to bring this delicacy to the table. Lightly umami and delightfully chewy it its raw state, this jeonbok was served in its entirely with the creamy liver in the background, another local favorite in itself.


Perhaps the most famous -- or infamous to the squeamish -- among raw Korean seafoods, our san-nakji arrived with tentacles still sucking vigorously onto the plate, subsequently our chopsticks and finally our tongues. While copious amounts of sesame oil did help free the octopus from our palate, extra attention had to be paid to this notoriously chewy choking hazard.


By now readers should notice the Korean preference for chewiness in fresh seafood, reaching a pinnacle here with the intensely fibrous and slightly slimy delicacy of haesam, or sea cucumbers. I would have loved a bottle of local soju to wash these down if I weren't driving.


Ironically the blanched octopus, perhaps the least exotic of the starters and widely known for its rubbery texture, turned out impressively soft. We barely had time to thoroughly appreciate each dish when our proficient chef had already finished cleaning, filleting and plating our live fish on a gigantic platter.


This picture doesn't do justice to the sheer size -- I should have left my puny chopsticks on the side for scale -- of the platter, likely our largest ever order of hoe/sashimi/carpaccio in any nationality. Our hwangdom was certainly bigger than the 1 kg that we actually paid for, its main fillet thickly carved for chewiness and the end pieces sliced into long strips in seggosi style.

As we started wrapping our sea bream in perilla leaves, our friendly ajumma decided to take these two foreigners beyond the basic Korean Hoe 101 with her professional opinion on how to do hoessam.


These are the steps I learned from her masterclass:

1. Start with a perilla leaf with the smooth side facing down. This is important as you don't want the rough underside of the leaf to be the first thing to hit your tongue.
2. One small ball of chobab, or vinegared rice, as a second layer.
3. One slice of roasted seaweed to separate the fish from the vinegared rice.
4. And THEN we finally get to the fish.
5. At last, your choice of condiment -- spicy garlic stem, cho-gochujang, ssamjang. Whatever tickles your tastebuds.

The multiple layers of flavours are meant to hit your palate in an optimized sequence as you place the wrapped morsel upside down on your tongue. Perilla to cleanse your palate; condiment and fish as the dominant flavour; roasted seaweed to accentuate the flavour of the sea; vinegared rice and perilla for a refreshing finish.

Now I can impress my Seoulite friend with my newfound Jeju Style.


As we worked continuously towards finishing our 1 kg fish, the kitchen brought even more in the form of a grilled okdom, apparently a winter favorite on both sides of the East Sea / Sea of Japan. We last had this tilefish (i.e. amadai) at the Japanese historic town of Hagi where the default preparation was shioyaki with sea salt in its fresh state. This time it was the Jeju banquet specialty of okdom-gui: semi-dried, brushed with a sweet soya-sesame oil glaze then broiled to an aromatic, slightly charred finish.


As if we weren't well-fed enough, ajumma brought this large bowl of savory miyeok-guk, or seaweed broth, made with the head and boney portions of our live sea bream. There was still a lot of meat to be picked out, and this would turn into a two hour meal by the time we're done with these bones.


Our 1 kg sea bream would make one more appearance as a third course, a superb fish porridge with remarkable umami flavours and absolutely no fishiness -- this was a live fish after all. Everything from the abalone and san-nakji to the expertly presented hwangdom hoe to the grilled tilefish and seaweed broth was simply top notch.


I have no idea how we managed to finish it all, including the sweet potato tempura and the refreshment of Jeju orange at the end. The businessmen at the next table sounded euphoric the whole time, especially considering that the live sea bream sashimi -- kidai ikizukuri in Japan -- alone would have easily cost upwards of 8000 yen (CAD$100) in Tokyo. Now you see why I have no qualms about spending 100000 Won (CAD$115) for such an extravagant and authentically Jeju meal.

Meal for Two Persons
Hwangdom 1 kg (Dinner Set for Two)100000 Won
TOTAL100000 Won (CAD$115)

As far as I know this is the first ever English-language review of Yongchul Hoetjib, hopefully bringing more attention to this undiscovered gem. Earlier that day we visited another relatively unknown seafood eatery, also with no other review in English at the time of writing.

Restaurant Review: SEONGSAN JINMI SIKDANG (성산진미식당) (Jeju) (see map)

Not to be confused with a Michelin-featured crab restaurant of the same name in Seoul, this unheralded Jinmi Sikdang is an informal eatery at the foot of the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Seongsan Ilchulbong, specializing in the Jeju peasant favorite of haemul-ttukbaegi, or seafood-in-earthen-pot.


There was no English menu of course, which was good news considering that we're within walking distance from a major tourist draw. Things got even better when the house selection of banchan featured two of my favorites: ojingeo-jeot (marinated squid) and myeolchi-bokkeum (fried anchovies), the latter being my number one fave since childhood.


My wife's fave is a little more refined in comparison.

In the rest of East Asia -- Tokyo, Beijing, Hong Kong or Taipei -- the abalone is universally prized as a delicacy of utmost extravagance, appearing only in the most lavish meals where just one mollusc, if not one slice of the mollusc, is typically served per guest. Here on Jeju Island, a blue-collar price of 15000 Won (CAD$17) afforded three large live abalones served as Jeonbok Ttukbaegi -- and that's accompanied by a scallop, half a blue crab, a langoustine, plus clams and mussels served in a soybean broth.


A slightly upscale variant was the Obunjagi Ttukbaegi, featuring five abalones of a smaller species native to Jeju and topped with a luxurious dab of sea urchin roes. The orchestra of shellfishes made for an exceptionally umami broth, and the sea urchin -- which we immediately scooped out of the soup and enjoyed separately in its raw state -- was as sweet as we could have asked for.


My wife found the larger -- and somehow cheaper -- abalones much more enjoyable with their softer, perfectly al dente level of chewiness. In retrospect we could have shared a haemultang, not exactly a Jeju specialty but enviably impressive as the mountain of crabs and abalones arrived at the next table, for just 5000 Won more. For fellow independent travelers looking for an authentic lunch spot close to Seongsan Ilchulbong, this is quie a decent choice.

Meal for Two Persons
Jeonbok Haemul Ttukbaegi15000 Won
Obunjagi Ttukbaegi20000 Won
TOTAL35000 Won (CAD$40)

Spending three full days at the abalone capital of Asia -- and with a self-proclaimed abalone lover -- we went for a third meal of abalone, this time at a restaurant where the king of Korean shellfish is featured in every single menu item.

Restaurant Review: MYEONGJIN JEONBOK (명진전복) (Jeju) (see map)


This place absolutely needs no introduction. As industrial and out-of-the-way as the shop may appear on this remote stretch of the north coast, it may be the most famous restaurant on Jeju Island. To Korean visitors, Myeongjin Jeonbok is so synonymous with Jeju abalone that their signature dishes can be delivered nationwide, even if you live as far away as Sokcho.


To beat the infamous hour-long queues, we purposely arrived at 10:30 and barely took the last table in a packed dining hall. Unlike the other two restaurants reviewed above, Myeongjin did provide an English menu of its four dish repertoire: abalones in porridge, on rice, grilled on an iron plate, or sliced raw for the purist.


But first, the banchan. The spicy ojingeo-jeot was my favorite here, a perfect companion to the sungnyung towards the end of the meal. More about that later.


Not wanting to overstuff ourselves for brunch, we ordered the default jeonbok dolsotbab and jeonbokjuk which also happened to be the two cheapest items on the menu. To our surprise the meal came with a free dish of grilled mackerel, soy-marinated and slightly on the dry side.


You can just tell that this jeonbokjuk was legit just from its greenish colour, derived from the female abalone's liver widely appreciated from Seoul to Tokyo. Honestly the flavour of the porridge was somewhat underwhelming -- I had expected a more pronounced umami taste.


Topped with chewy slices of steamed abalone, our dolsotbab also started out slightly underwhelming ... but that was before we started pouring in the water for our highly anticipated sungnyung.


There has to be something magical about the abalone liver pâté and its chemical reaction when roasted in the stone bowl with the crusty rice. The depth of flavour was entirely different from having the rice on its own, quickly turning this dish into the best of the meal!

If we ever get to visit again, I would skip the porridge and go for the dolsotbab, and try the grilled abalone that was sizzling aromatically at the neighbouring table this whole time.

Meal for Two Persons
Jeonbokjuk12000 Won
Jeonbok Dolsotbab15000 Won
TOTAL27000 Won (CAD$31)

We actually had a fourth seafood meal, an excellent beltfish stew at a small informal eatery. But this is getting long and I'll leave that for the next post. As any visitor can attest, Jeju really is the seafood lover's paradise.

Korea Slow Trip - Udo Island, Jeju Chill at its Best


With a 4th day on Jeju-do -- it's a Korea Slow Trip after all! -- we visited picturesque Udo for a theraputic afternoon of unwinding on its pristine beaches and zooming around in an electric three wheeler. If this picture of seagulls in the ocean breeze evokes your image of an island paradise, that's just the start of the ferry ride when my wife snapped this on her cellphone. It was that relaxing.


If Jeju is Korea's default honeymoon destination, Udo would be the newlyweds' default romantic hideout with its translucent turquoise waters, sleepy villages and an abundance of lonely lighthouses for that perfect couple's selfie. This is one place in Jeju where foreigners won't outnumber the Koreans -- it's where the Jeju natives themselves hang out on weekends.


A gorgeous ferry ride with the UNESCO World Heritage landmark of Seongsan Ilchulbong in full view; a curvy coastal loop perfect for a slow cruise in a two-seat scooter; perhaps a steaming bowl of haemul ramyeon incorporating fresh catch from the island's sea women. It was the ultimate getaway from the breakneck speed of Seoul.


Old school car ferries -- some featuring Korean-style cabins with heated ondol flooring -- arrive at the colorful port of Cheonjin in 25 minutes. Despite the relatively cheap price for bringing one's own vehicles, the vast majority of visitors would leave their cars behind and rent something more maneuverable for the island's narrow streets.


It was the smallest motor vehicle I had ever rented, a three-wheeled electric scooter with a roof to shield us from the midday sun on the island's treeless pastures and shorelines. As the entire island can be circumnavigated in one 16 km loop, battery bank shouldn't be a problem even for those staying overnight at one of the island's many minbaks.


The round-island loop is actually Olle Trail 1-1, a local section of Jeju's official long distance footpath inspired by the Camino de Santiago. Along the route visitors would frequently come across the unique sight of doldam, low walls of dark volcanic rocks recently rediscovered as an essential part of Jeju's cultural landscape. Time will tell whether Jeju-do will push for this landscape's inscription as UNESCO World Heritage, much like the dry stone walls of Stari Grad Plain on the Croatian island of Hvar.


Our first stop was the exceedingly famous beach of Seobin Baeksa, frequently featured in K-dramas and TV commercials and widely considered the most beautiful beach in Korea. Resist the urge to take a souvenir of the perfect white sand -- tiny grains of fossilized red algae under the microscope -- as it is illegal.


The Seobin -- West Coast in Korean -- is hardly the only sandy white beach on Udo as the eastern shore also boasts the Hagosudong Beach, a prime snorkling spot in warmer season with a rock sculpture to honour the island's original freedivers, the traditional female-only profession of haenyeo.


The haenyeo's daily harvest can still be observed at the tiny islet of Biyangdo, its entrance conspicuously marked by a conch-shaped landmark covered with conch shells and flanked by a makeshift eatery serving the day's catch in the form of raw hoe. Passion for seafood here culminates in an annual fiesta, known as the Udo Turban Shell Festival (우도소라축제) usually held on the second weekend of April.


At the end of Biyangdo stands an eye-catching lighthouse amongst a barren outcrop of volcanic rocks, the ubiquitous building material used for the island's doldam walls and its man-sized dol hareubang guardians, Jeju-do's answer to Easter Island's moai traditionally placed at village entrances for protection against evil spirits.


4 km further down the Olle loop, we reached the obligatory pitstop for all rental scooters at the snack stands above Geommeolle Beach. While Udo certainly isn't a desert island, it's definitely an island of desserts with dozens of cafes dotting its charming coastline, all serving bungeo-ppang type pastry and ice cream featuring Udo's main agricultural crop of peanuts.


Contrasting with the black sandy beach of Geommeolle is a white lighthouse atop Udo Peak, the islet's highest point at merely 130m. In the waters below the rugged bluff is a sizeable sea cave, former home to a whale according to local legends.


Literally Cow Island in Korean, Udo is ironically more famous for war horses just like the rest of Jeju. Horses grazing precariously along Geommeolle's cliffs serve as testament to the islet's past as a state ranch, established in the 17th century on its windy pastures to supply tributary horses to the imperial court in Seoul.


Our circumnavigation of Udo took a little over three hours with frequent photo stops and a dessert break. By 15:30 we squeezed onto the next boat back to Seongsan Port on the main island, this time on a ferry without the crowded -- and uncomfortably stuffy with live coverage of COVID-19 news shown on the little TV! -- ondol room.


In retrospect we're glad we didn't bring along our rental car, a boxy Kia Ray with a small engine (1L, 77hp) and relatively large turning radius, which would have been harder to maneuver on the island's many deadends. Besides, a zippy scooter was just the right vehicle for that holiday island feel.

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