FILM AT ELEVEN
Dansungsa is one of those glitches in the time-space continuum that makes us glad to live in Los Angeles, a keyhole to an alternate universe that is almost certainly better, richer than the one we happen to inhabit at the moment. To those of us who cannot read Hangul, the bar is recognizable mostly by the blown-up posters of golden-age Korean movie stars posted outside as well as papering the walls within. If you are not Korean, the valet will give you a quizzical look as you step out of your car. Inside the close quarters of the wood-paneled tavern, a squad of aunties in the open kitchen prod and poke at whole grilling squids and smoking cookpots whose rattling lids can be heard even above the din of the Korean dance music. The walls are streaked with graffiti. The untranslated menu, such as it is, is laminated onto a block of wood. It is as if you have ducked out of Sixth Street into a smoky bar in Seoul.
3855 Wilshire Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90010-3202
Category: Restaurant > Asian
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
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3136 W. 8th St.
Los Angeles, CA 90005
Category: Restaurant > Asian
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
2501 W. Olympic Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90006
Category: Restaurant > American
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
3317 W. Sixth St.
Los Angeles, CA 90020
Category: Restaurant > Korean
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
3074 W. Eighth St.
Los Angeles, CA 90005
Category: Restaurant > Asian
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
3030 W. Olympic Blvd., #108
Los Angeles, CA 90006
Category: Restaurant > Asian
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
2716 W. Olympic Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90006
Category: Restaurant > Korean
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
“This place is supposed to be themed after an old movie theater in Seoul,” says the guy sitting next to you at the counter. “In my opinion, it attracts too many old people. But then again . . . look at these girls!”
Yet Dansungsa may be the friendliest place in Koreatown. In no time at all, a waiter will have you set up with platters of the bar snacks known as anju: maybe that barbecued squid, thick fingers of rice cake glazed with a lip-searing chile sauce, or skewers of grilled shrimp, grilled garlic cloves, or something that looks and tastes very much like a grilled Ball Park Frank. With your soju or beer comes painfully rustic turnip kimchi and a bowl of spicy cabbage soup. Before you leave, you probably will have toasted to the health of the people at the tables on either side of you and eaten a massive, crisp seafood pancake laced with scallions, a plate of steamed baby octopus, or some truly wonderful grilled pork ribs, the bar’s specialty. But don’t aim too high on the food chain: “You want chap chae?” a waiter sneered. “Not here — that’s restaurant food.” 3317 W. Sixth St., (213) 487-9100.
NOODLES FROM A DIFFERENT KITCHEN
Chinese restaurants in Koreatown tend to be pretty different from Chinese restaurants not in Koreatown, weighted toward the sticky and the sweet, big on the deep-frying, and given to a palate-cleanser of raw slivered onions served with hoisin sauce. More to the point, they are some of the only Chinese restaurants in Southern California where the noodles are characteristically pulled by hand, and the spaghetti-shaped strands are stretchy, bouncy things, perfectly al dente, with a slight surface tackiness and a nicely developed wheat flavor, almost good enough to eat by themselves. Mandarin House specializes in chachiang mein, a big bowl of those hand-pulled noodles served in a musky, tar-black sauce made with onions, fermented black beans, and meat — a sauce so popular that you can even buy warm packets of the freshly made goo in the deli cases of a few Koreatown supermarkets. You’ll find chachiang mein practically everywhere in Koreatown, but the version at Mandarin House is supreme. 3074 W. Eighth St., (213) 386-8976.
KIM BOP-A-LULA
In a quiet, almost deserted mall at midday, you walk past fancy dress shops, bridal salons, an herb shop and a bakery. In the small, rustic restaurant at one end of the gallery, Chung Moo Kim Bop House, you slide onto a bench. Seconds later, a waitress sets in front of you a bowl of pickled radish, a bowl of spicy broth, a bowl of crunchy tentacles in a sweet chile sauce, and an oblong dish on which 10 slender sushi rolls — kim bop — line up like so many laver-green soldiers. The rice is significantly less seasoned than Japanese sushi rice, if at all, and the sticky seaweed wrappers are not particularly well toasted. You might fail to see the point of the dish. Still, 10 minutes from now, after you have experienced every possible permutation of tentacle, kim bop and broth, you may well worship the stuff. If you are honest with yourself, raw sea urchin eggs weren’t that appealing the first time around, either. 3030 W. Olympic Blvd., No. 108, (213) 382-8277.
BEAN THERE, DONE THAT
My friend Caryl has always maintained that So Kong Dong was the best tofu restaurant in Koreatown. I have always plumped for Beverly Soon Tofu Restaurant across the street. So Kong Dong seems almost Soviet in its appearance, a low-ceilinged dining room bathed in a singularly unappealing fluorescent glare. Beverly looks as if its proprietor went overboard on the burl-log furniture for sale by the side of the road in Topanga. So Kong Dong serves its rice in superheated stone pots that give it a subtly smoky flavor. Beverly’s rice is served in the same stainless-steel bowls you find everywhere in Koreatown. So Kong Dong includes briny pickled clams among its panchan. Beverly’s panchan is pretty much by the book.
