Editor’s note: This story is the first in a series about a student’s adventures in Korea.En route to South Korea, I was comforted by the fusion of American and Asian style foods. The airline provided dinner that consisted of rice with seasoned beef and vegetables. A buttered roll (the last I would see until my flight back home) accompanied the main course, along with a side of fruit cocktail.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as I enjoyed this first of the two meals offered during my 15-hour flight.

Upon waking from my oversea slumber, I was served a second meal which consisted of an omelet filled with cheese, ham and assorted mystery vegetables. I couldn’t have known, as I sipped my coffee, that these two meals would be the last I would encounter for the remainder of my trip.

I boarded a bus at the airport with nothing to eat but crackers and water. It took about an hour to get to my next stop, a transfer bus terminal in Seoul.

Inside the terminal I shopped around for something to ease my hunger pangs until I located a vendor who offered a variety of bizarre aliments. My first and perhaps less intense form of Korean cuisine was a common travel snack called kimbap. This convenient treat contains yellow radishes, a meat of your selection, carrots and zucchini, wrapped in rice and gim (sheets of dry roasted seaweed).

The presentation is similar to that of a sushi roll you might find on a Wednesday night at Stir Fry. I fumbled with the chopsticks and aluminum foil container as the bus swerved through the crowded roads.

Once settled into the city of Wonju, I was exposed to the intense spice of dalkgalbi. I had been warned about its fiery tendencies, but I wanted to experience the popular flavor for myself.

I visited a restaurant located in a section of the city called Lotte Cinema. I noticed the quaint room size and all the customers’ shoes left at the door. Everyone was sitting with their legs crossed around short tables, sharing out of large gas-heated skillets which were built into each table.

I took a seat, ordered and the waitress brought the ingredients out, mixed them together in the skillet, and muttered something to me in Korean. She visited my table occasionally to stir the hissing mixture of chicken, cabbage, potatoes, rice cakes, cheese and the key ingredient in nearly every Korean dish, gochujang (red pepper paste). When the cheese had ceased to sizzle and the waitress signaled for me to eat, I shoveled a portion onto my plate.

The first bite was nothing short of a volcanic eruption. I paced myself with this meal and tried to keep the heat at bay with the various banchan (staple side dishes). My chopstick skills were tested once again as I made my way through this painful feast.

The next few meals I braved were reminiscent of the first as far as presentation and dining settings. The majority of Korean restaurants have small charcoal or gas grills set into the middle of each table.

Servers bring out raw pork or beef for the customers to slice with scissors and cook over the embers, often replacing the grill screen when it becomes charred by the heat.

The most common banchan that accompanied this style of meal is probably the quintessential kimchi.

It is impossible to talk about Korean food without mentioning this traditional side dish which is made with various vegetables, most often cabbage, fermented in a gochujang glaze.

Every restaurant had various types of kimchi but all were nearly too spicy for me to enjoy.

I would recommend anyone who is vegetarian to look up the next dish I tried, called bibimbap. The word bibimbap literally translates as “mixed rice.” There are dozens of variations of bibimbap available in Korea because it’s basically numerous vegetables mixed together with rice and gochujang.

My favorite combination was cucumber, zucchini, mushroom, spinach, a small amount of kimchi, topped with an egg. It is served in a piping hot stone bowl that cooks the egg as you mix the ingredients together. Though this meal was delicious, it still wasn’t my favorite.

My favorite meal that I tried in Korea was called shabu-shabu. Although it is historically a Japanese dish, I found it most interesting because of its dual nature.

Once again there is a table with a heated core and a bowl filled with flavorful broth. I saw a waitress carry in a huge platter with mushrooms, different types of lettuce and mushrooms, onions, carrots, cabbage, and thinly sliced beef.

When the broth had begun to boil I tossed in everything on the platter except the meat. Once everything condensed I threw in a couple pieces of meat and they cooked in a matter of seconds. With my improving chop stick technique, I dipped the meat it in a brown, sesame seed sauce and was instantly hooked.

I could have eaten more of this soupy dish, but my waitress came back and removed the excess broth. She then poured a tiny bit back in and added a rice mixture and a raw egg. I learned that this second half of the meal is called jook.

I thoroughly enjoyed Korean cuisine and it was after I had shabu-shabu that I realized that I could recreate the majority of these dishes at home.

During my stay I felt more energetic and I think it was because my diet had changed so drastically. I felt like I had been eating much more healthily since the majority of Korean dishes are vegetable based.

Though I was completely ignorant about Korean food when I arrived at my destination, I left more aware of their signature dishes, healthier and inspired to recreate.

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