Tteokbokki: The Fiery Initiation
I’m hitting the road of my life, and the literal one too. Join me on the journey, won’t you? When I came to Seoul, there was one street food I knew existed – and it was therefore the one food I knew I had to try. I’ve been warned by TV and my Korean friends that it was a spicy affair, but I knew I might be able to try it and not die, thanks to the intensive training in the area of spicy foods that I’ve received in the previous two years living with the Phan family.
When I came to Korea, I didn’t delay the inevitable. On the same day I landed in Seoul and checked in to my hostel, I ended up in Yeouido, the Hangang Park, and in the streets around. That is where, in the late-afternoon, I happened upon a little plastic tent. An elderly woman was tending to the pans and pots there, and as she saw me approach and do the best I could to say hello in my broken Korean, she pointed me to one of the stools she had set up there. Then, with grandmotherly care, she presented me with my very first tteokbokki.
Tteokbokki is basically rice cake doused in spicy gochujang sauce. Literally, the dish’s name means “stir-fried rice cake.” It is a very popular street food, and it’s a comfort food to many. The rice cake is chewy, and the gochujang sauce tends to have a sweet undertone. I was in love since my very first bite. Expecting it to be a little too spicy for me, I took it slowly in the beginning, but then gradually started to stuff my face with this amazing dish. It had just the perfect amount of spiciness, sweetness, and chewiness. It was an experience I’d fly back to Korea just to get another bowl of. My tteokbokki obsession started then and there. I had tteokbokki the next day too, and it was just as delicious, even though the sweet-spicy balance was different.
The Tteokbokki Incident
They say third time’s the charm. And as for me and tteokbokki, well, it really was. I was walking to a train station after staying until dark at Changgyeonggung, which is one of the very few – or maybe the only one, I’m not sure now – palaces that let visitors enjoy it after the sun goes down. In the tiny streets, far away from where tourists would usually stray, I happened upon one of those ubiquitous plastic tents. Yay! Late-night tteokbokki snack.
While I was usually able to substitute Korean words I didn’t know for English and still make conversation possible, I couldn’t do that here. English was not happening. I had to rely on my very bad Korean completely. I got my tteokbokki and eagerly dug in, knowing I could handle the spiciness. Unless I couldn’t. The spicy came immediately, hitting me like a train. One of the other patrons gave me a surprised look when he saw me gulp down my first bite, then said something from which I could catch only “too spicy” before my ears started to ring.
I reached for a cup with broth that usually comes with the food, trying to make it hurt a bit less. Bad luck – the broth too was spicier than usual. My eyes tearing, I had to keep eating. Even though I almost couldn’t feel the taste, it was still too good – and I didn’t want to offend the lovely woman by making it look like I didn’t like her food. With every bite, a new wave of pain went through my mouth. I tried not to breathe too heavily, because with every breath, I could feel literal fire burn through my lungs. I swear, if I breathed out too rapidly, I’d probably have flames lashing out from my mouth.
Halfway through the plate/bowl, I couldn’t hear. My vision was blurry. I could see my life flashing in front of my eyes. I got to the bottom of the plate/bowl and pretended for a little while to be enjoying the broth in order to regain my composure, then I somehow managed to thank the woman again for the food. She and the other patron gave me good-bye, and as soon as I left the tent, I heard her and the man laugh. It might be about that white girl and the too-spicy food, or it might not. Either way, I made my way to the trains, tears in my eyes, cheeks burning, and with the sniffles – and with my pride about being able to eat spicy Korean food completely shattered.
On my way home, I bought some super-sweet drink in a desperate attempt to make my mouth stop hurting. I couldn’t taste any of it. When I told the front-desk staff what went down, he laughed at me, saying that the woman and the patron were probably surprised that I was eating it instead of being surprised that I was having a cardiac arrest right in front of them. Thanks, that made me feel so much better.
More Korean Food-ventures
After that fateful tteokbokki incident, I didn’t let it deter me from exploring more of Seoul’s vibrant street food scene. In fact, it only fueled my determination to conquer the spicy challenges and immerse myself in the local culinary culture.
One of my favorite discoveries was hotteok, a sweet, pancake-like street snack that has become a staple in my Seoul food adventures. These fluffy, golden-brown treats are filled with a delightful mixture of brown sugar, cinnamon, and sometimes nuts or seeds. The first time I tried hotteok, it was like a warm hug for my taste buds, perfectly balancing the crispy exterior with the gooey, caramelized center.
Another must-try on my list was Bongeun-Sa, a historic Buddhist temple located right in the heart of Seoul. While the serene atmosphere and stunning architecture were undoubtedly the main draws, I couldn’t resist the temptation of the temple’s food stalls. From delicate temple-style vegetarian dishes to the iconic Korean street food classics, every bite was a revelation.
Exploring Kwangjang Market
One of the must-visit destinations for any Seoul food enthusiast is undoubtedly Kwangjang Market. This bustling, historic marketplace is a veritable treasure trove of street food delights, where you can find everything from classic tteokbokki to more obscure specialties.
As I wandered through the narrow aisles, the sights, sounds, and aromas assaulted my senses in the most delightful way. Vendors hawked their wares, their voices creating a symphony of temptation. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling meats, bubbling broths, and freshly made dumplings. I found myself drawn to every stall, each one promising a unique culinary adventure.
One of the highlights of my Kwangjang Market experience was discovering the glorious variety of mandu, or Korean dumplings. From the delicate, translucent wrappers of the jeon-mandu to the hearty, pan-fried style, each type offered a distinct flavor profile and texture. I couldn’t resist trying a sampling, savoring the juicy fillings and the way the dough melted in my mouth.
But Kwangjang Market is more than just a food lover’s paradise; it’s also a window into the rich tapestry of Korean culture. As I navigated the bustling aisles, I was captivated by the interactions between the vendors and their loyal customers, a dance of familiarity and camaraderie that has been honed over generations. It’s a place where traditions are upheld, where recipes are passed down, and where the essence of Seoul’s culinary identity is distilled in every bite.
Embracing the Spice
Looking back on my spicy tteokbokki mishap, I can’t help but laugh at my naivety. But that experience, as painful as it was in the moment, has only deepened my appreciation for Korean cuisine and its unapologetic use of bold flavors.
Now, when I venture out to explore Seoul’s vibrant street food scene, I approach each dish with a sense of adventure and an open mind. I’ve learned to embrace the heat, to savor the nuances of each spice, and to revel in the way it awakens my taste buds and sets my soul alight.
Seoul’s street food stalls have become my personal culinary playground, a place where I can indulge my cravings and push the boundaries of my palate. From the fiery tteokbokki to the caramelized bliss of hotteok, each bite is a revelation, a testament to the creativity and passion of the city’s street food purveyors.
As I wander the streets of Seoul, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of connection to the city and its people. The food is not just sustenance; it’s a reflection of the vibrant culture, the rich history, and the unwavering spirit that makes this place so captivating. And with every visit to Hotel Stay Inn Seoul, I know I’m just one step closer to uncovering the next delicious adventure that awaits.
So, if you find yourself in Seoul, embark on your own taste bud tour of the city’s street food stalls. Be prepared to be surprised, delighted, and maybe even a little scorched, but embrace it all with an open heart and an adventurous spirit. After all, the true essence of Seoul’s culinary magic lies not just in the food, but in the journey of discovery that it inspires.
