Seoul kitchen

>> Chez Hwang offers bulgogi and
other Korean classics in NDG

by GENEVIEVE PAIEMENT

The soy, sesame oil, chili and garlic punch of bulgogi (Korean BBQ beef) is definitely on my “top 10 ways to flavour beef” list, and there is a special place in my heart for Korean eats in general for two main reasons.

First, during the four years I lived in Sydney, Australia (a city crawling with top-notch Asian eats), I ate almost weekly at a beloved dive of a Korean-Japanese joint, where I first fell in love with Korean classics like bibimbap (rice with vegetables and ground beef, topped with a fried egg), jap chae (glassy, amber hued noodles made from sweet potato) and marinated BBQ chicken, beef and pork.

Second, I’ve been the lucky recipient of excellent Korean home cooking thanks to my sister-in-law Jaehee (homegirl grew up on the jewel-like island of Jeju and concocts a mean bulgogi marinade).

And so it was with high hopes that I visited Chez Hwang a few weeks ago on Upper Lachine Road in NDG. It was a crisp Friday evening and the brightly lit spot was about half-full. My dining partner and I dove right in, ordering our faves and two Asahis ($4.75 each).

To start: an order of those gyoza-esque pork mandoo dumplings ($7.90) and the kimchi jigae (kimchi, pork and tofu) soup ($7.90). For mains, the bulgogi dinner special ($12.90), which includes jap chae and pajeon (seafood pancake) and a bibimbap ($8.90). As is often the case, we use our favourite classic dishes as measuring sticks at a new place.

Seconds later, the traditional small white bowls of side dishes (banchan) were set before us: pale pink, sweet tendrils of daikon radish, brownish, thick and ultra-crunchy slices of four-alarm spicy cabbage, ye olde kimchi, jap chae and boiled bean sprouts in sesame oil. All were incredibly fresh and yummy, each providing interesting contrasts in texture and flavour. Then immediately after, our soup and three dishes materialized too, and the feasting began in earnest.

But things went a little pear-shaped when we got to the mandoos. Oh, mandoos, what did we ever do to you to be subjected to such bland, papery, dry noodle casing and equally lackluster filling? Harumph. We had hit the first snag, but we were still hopeful. Things began to look up again with the kimchi jigae.

“It’s like Korean borscht,” said my dining pal. Hearty, warm-your-cockles fare and perfect for a blustery evening, the soft chunks of tofu, bits of bacon-like pork (reminiscent of the French lardons) and chili-salty-sour bite of the kimchi combined to make each bite an adventure. Sadly, the bibimbap and bulgogi failed to impress as much.

As for the bulgogi, I don’t often say this about food, but it wasn’t oily enough. I hold an image in my mind’s eye (and stomach) of the good stuff: glistening, semi-sweet, thin slices of sirloin, fragrant with sesame oil, soy, garlic and onion. This stuff was good—not too gristly, nice and tender—but not great. There was no glistening, and the timid flavours didn’t exactly have us moaning. The accompanying seafood pancake was satisfying, doughy and eggy with silky sliced onion and one single bit of baby octopus.

And the bibimbap? While the veggies (grated carrot, cooked zucchini, lettuce) were very fresh, again, the flavour was lacking. Plus, I’m used to seeing the ingredients piled on top of the rice, allowing the subtle flavours to seep into the grains, but here we were given a separate small bowl of rice to mix in ourselves, so the tastes had no time to really come together. Luckily, some chili sauce amped it up a notch.

Unable to eat another bite, we waited a long time for our (mostly clean) plates to be cleared (halfway through our meal, a busload of Korean tourists were ushered in for dinner and it seems we were forgotten in the fray). The patchy service seemed to mirror the unevenness of the food. Despite all this, Chez Hwang still gets points for freshness, cleanliness and variety of offerings—I’ll be back to sample more.