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Koreatown is blessed with more all-night restaurants than the rest of Los Angeles put together: noodle parlors and soup dens, greasy spoons, unremarkable grills and after-hours joints where soju sometimes mysteriously makes its way into teacups. But at 4 in the morning, Hodori, named for the dweeby cartoon tiger that was the mascot for the ’88 Seoul Olympics, may as well be the only place in town: brightly lit as any McDonald’s, hazy with steam from the kitchen, and jammed with young people who sit 12 to a table, sobering themselves up with kimchi fried rice. For better or for worse, Hodori is the Canter’s of Koreatown. 1001 S. Vermont Ave., No. 102, (213) 383-3554.
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 >
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
2716 W. Olympic Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90006
Category: Restaurant > Korean
Region: Mid-Wilshire/ Hancock Park
CAKES ALIVE
We have already discussed, I believe, the kimchi pancake, the seafood pancake, the mung bean pancake, the scallion pancake, and the potato pancake with a single chrysanthemum leaf impressed upon its bosom. But as Dr. Freud might have said had he lived in Koreatown instead of dank old Vienna, sometimes a pancake is just a pancake. At these moments, we are always comforted by the knowledge that at Koo’s Grill, a sort of shed set up near the entrance to the California Supermarket on Western Avenue at Fifth Street, a buck will buy us what appears to be a plain, old, ordinary pancake, with a sweet bean or two in the batter, sure, but drizzled with syrup and served mouth- sizzlingly hot on a napkin.
DUCK, YOU SUCKER!
You will find no duck recipes in any of the dozen or so Korean cookbooks I own, no mention of duck in the guides to Seoul cafés, no duck on most Koreatown menus. Still, there is Il San Duck to consider, a restaurant that not only serves duck but serves nothing but duck: spicy duck noodles, spicy duck stew and, above all, duck stuffed with nuts, roots and other various goodies before being slow-baked in clay. 3700 W. Olympic Blvd., (323) 735-9100.
NOODLE STORIES
Ten years ago, there were maybe two or three places to get great gook soo, the thin, handcut, wheaten noodles customarily served in a stock based on dried anchovies and garnished with seaweed, kimchi or bits of meat, maybe a few chunks of boiled potato. Gook soo may be the ultimate Korean comfort food. For years I satisfied most of my gook soo yearnings at Ma Dang Gook Soo (869 S. Western Ave., 213-487-6008), where the texture of the noodles resembles perfect Italian fettuccine. But recently, my loyalties have begun to shift toward Wang Simri Noodle House, where the noodles have a firmer bite, the broth has a delicacy it is hard to believe derives from dried anchovies, and it is possible to order the noodles tinted with green tea, which softens their texture but adds a subtle bitterness that is not at all unpleasant. The mandoo, herb-stuffed Korean dumplings, are pretty good too. 474 N. Western Ave., (323) 467-2900.
HANDS ON DECKLE
Food fads sweep like brazier-fed wildfires through Koreatown’s barbecue scene, which may be one of the most competitive restaurant environments on Earth. A few years ago, nobody could get enough of coconut-shell charcoal on which to grill their bulgogi. Last year saw the rise of the rice noodle wrappers called dduk bo sam. The year before, I think it was all about the Canadian black pigs. The new meat of choice these days seems to be deckle, that fatty cap of beef that nestles up to a steer’s brisket, and the cut of choice for pastrami. In Korean restaurants, deckle is shaved into thin, pale curls and cooked on a custom-purposed tabletop grill shaped like an inverted iron cone. Deckle sizzling with onions gives off one of the great cooking smells of all time, a distillation of what could be thought of as Philadelphia-diner funk, and when you dress the meat with chiles, wrap it in a rice noodle and drag it through a dipping sauce, you’ve got one of the great all-time mouthfuls of food.
The venerable Soowon Kalbi does a decent job with deckle, and Shik Do Rak includes deckle in most of its combination dinners. Still, Castle BBQ, a fine edifice built on the twin virtues of deckle and Seagram’s Crown Royal, is a veritable palace of fatty meat — and dduk bo sam. Pop an extra Lipitor or two and try the combo of deckle and pork belly, a cholesterol feat for the ages. 473 N. Western Ave., No. 1, (323) 467-3813.
BLEAT HOUSE
Oddly enough, the best part of a meal at Chin-Go-Gae is not the goat soup, a bubbling orange cauldronful of kid meat, chile and as many fresh sesame leaves as you can stuff down into the broth. Just after the meal, the waitress enriches the dregs of the soup with an egg and some rice, and cooks it down to a thick, goaty porridge seared black and crisp at the edges. Incredible. 3063 W. Eighth St., (213) 480-8071.
KOREAN PENICILLIN
Samgyetang is yet another in the long line of Korean tonic soups: a small hen, usually stuffed with sticky rice, jujubes and maybe a little ginseng, simmered in a mild chicken broth. You could consider it the Korean equivalent of Jewish chicken-in-a-pot, if you could imagine a matzoh ball actually stuffed into a chicken. It’s pretty easy to find samgyetangin Koreatown — Kobawoo and the genteel diner Matinee have good versions. But almost everybody in the neighborhood will point you to the chic, new L.A. Chicken Center, an all-chicken restaurant that has practically made a religion out of its clean-lined, classic rendering of the dish. L.A. Chicken Center also serves a take on the roasted Zankou-style bird as well as jang dori chang, a sweet, spicy chicken stew flavored with citrus peel and what must be a double handful of finely minced garlic. Cock a doodle doo. 3400 W. Eighth St., (213) 380-0256.
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