One weekend we took another last-minute, hastily “planned” road trip to the historic city of Gyeongju. Our sole guide and source of information was wikitravel, which seemed to contain just enough information for the amount of time we had. Our goal for the weekend was to take in some of the historic sites, see a temple or two, set up camp, maybe go on a hike and of course eat some good food. In particular a restaurant described by wikitravel as being “foolish to miss.”

The drive to Gyeongju was short — only about an hour from Deagu — and beautiful. We passed fields of gleaming gold grain and pastoral villages nestled in between mountains. Once we hit the countryside we opened our windows and let in the intoxicating fresh country air.

In no time at all we had arrived. We drove by a park and the last remaining stragglers at the end of a marathon until we found ourselves in the part of town with narrow one-way streets and traditional Korean homes intermingled with seemingly empty mom and pop shops. Round and round we drove, circumnavigating the same two square blocks, searching in vain for this restaurant. More than once we pulled off to the side of the road or pulled into an empty parking (?) spot to consult various gps maps, scour the internet for more details, and/or ask directions from a similarly clueless passing stranger. It seemed as if nobody in town had heard of the place and apparently it did not exist on either Korean or GPS maps of which we tried at least three, punching in the name in both Hangul and Romanized Korean.

There’s a moment in getting lost when you have to decide whether to cut your losses or continue the maddening search out of principle. We are definitely the type of people that fall into the latter category. At this point we had so much time invested, were too annoyed, and had driven around the block one too many times, to give up now.

This dubious looking creature is “Gosari Namul” – a type of fern that is actually one of my favorite side dishes. The taste is kind of nutty and the texture is firm and chewy. 

Eventually I found a photo of the restaurant by plugging in the restaurant’s Korean name into a Korean search engine, Naver (the name also being a source of frustration as some mentioned it as Hyeondae and others as Hyundai). From the photo — on a Korean blog — I was able to make out a phone number. Sly called the phone number and the kind lady who answered mentioned that her restaurant didn’t come up in GPS and that the best way to find it was by finding Hyundai Hospital because she was right nearby. Once we found the hospital on a map we realized that we were not that far away, maybe a couple blocks at most. When we finally arrived it seemed as if the owner/chef of the restaurant had been waiting up for us — like a long lost auntie who had been eagerly anticipating our arrival for the sole purpose of feeding us. There were no menus, at least not that we could tell. She asked us what we wanted to eat and we said we came for some makgeolli and seafood pajeon. Auntie scooped out the cloudy cold makgeolli into a dented brass teapot and then went back to the kitchen to cook us up some food. We were the only two people there and we got the impression that had we not called she might not have been open, which made sense when we thought about it — this type of Korean food is more popular at night instead of during strange afternoon off hours. In no time at all a huge plate of crispy, gooey, chewy, steaming pajeon arrived at our table accompanied with several bowls of pickled and fermented side dishes. Auntie sat at a nearby table and watched us happily as we ate, then returned to the kitchen and asked if we would also like some tofu soup. Even though we were already stuffed we couldn’t say no. How does one say no to lovingly made home-cooked food from a stranger newly-made friend? The answer is, you don’t. You shouldn’t. You can’t. You say yes to everything that is put in front of you and eat until you think you’ll die because that is how food memories are made. And then when you can’t eat another bite, you ask to have the leftovers packed up (and done ever so carefully) so that you can fight over them with your spouse the next day.

DETAILS

Hyeondae Makgeolli (현대 막걸리) aka “Hyundai Makgeoli (한대 막걸리)”  | FOOD: Home-style Korean and Makgeolli. Pajeon (green onion pancake) and tofu soups are popular here but I’m pretty sure you could order whatever you wanted, provided the owner had the ingredients. | COST: Inexpensive | DESCRIPTION: Eating at this restaurant is similar to going over to an older relative’s house and having them cook you whatever you want. It’s also similar in that you won’t be able to leave without ordering (or eating) more than one (massively portioned) thing. The owner and cook was a very kind lady who made us feel as if we were eating at a long lost aunt’s house. While she didn’t speak much, if any, English, she said that she was able to understand and communicate with all the foreigners that come to her restaurant. At the mention of foreigners, she quickly got up from her seat and retrieved several poloroids of said foreigners from some cork board in the back. The food was good — very home-style Korean and made with lots of love. This would be a great place to drink makgeolli in the evening and share a few plates of home-cooked Korean food with friends. | DIRECTIONS: If you’re coming from the train station — walk outside the station until you’re facing a street that runs parallel and one that crosses the street in front of the station perpendicularly. Go straight down the perpendicular street until you hit the next major street (Geumseong-ro?). Take a right. The restaurant is on the left hand side. If you’re driving you can forget plugging in the name into your GPS. Try to find the Hyundai hospital and it will put you in the ballpark of the restaurant. This is restaurant’s address: and this is what the front of the building looks like: