Genwa Korean BBQ - Mid-Wilshire, Los Angeles, CA

The first time I hit Genwa, I talked about the remarkable selection of banchan that they feature, along with the great ambiance.  After another visit there last week, I can say unequivocally that it's one of the best Korean barbecue restaurants in Los Angeles, which would then make it one of the best Korean restaurants in the world, period. If you want to talk about the Korean barbecue game, there's four major approaches. A la carte, like The Corner Place; cheap all-you-can-eat like Don Day; premium all-you-can-eat, like Oo Gook, and premium a la carte, like Park's BBQ or Soowon Galbi. Genwa is firmly in the last category, where you pay top dollar for some of the best quality meat available. One could argue that the quality of meat at Park's or Chosun is relatively comparable - they're all invariably either prime or choice grade meat with marbled fat, deep beefy flavor, and rather specific portion sizes. After eating at AYCE joints, having a premium Korean BBQ meal can seem almost like a ripoff. That is, until you realize that the entire package of banchan, service, and accoutrements really complete the experience.

Genwa's dark nook on the first floor of a Mid-Wilshire multi-use residential building gives it a modern flair; the whizz of cars along our city's widest boulevard through slivered windows gives the diner a fairly cosmopolitan feeling. It's more than a stone's throw from Koreatown, giving it the distinction of proximity to Mid-Wilshire's offices and older residential areas, and only a short drive from the La Brea corridor. Like many of the top Korean barbecue restaurants, the menu goes beyond your basic barbecue by offering a great selection of traditional stews and soups. I'd have to get a few other brave souls to join me to try these, but I'd bet my selvedge jeans that they're excellent. You can get a taste of them with a combo order, which comes with a smallish bowl of soondubu or doenjang jjigae, or even bibimbap. 


Open ordering, you're gifted with twenty-some tiny bowls of banchan, most of which contain two or three bites each. The variety astounds, but the excellence of each particular banchan is what gives your impression staying power. Polish off a half dozen and request a refill - you'll be answered with fresh bowls. Just from memory, you can get kimchi, daikon kimchi, omelet, vegetables of all types, and potato salad (obligatory in L.A.-style Korean BBQ). Selection seems to change pretty often. I would pit this variety against the truly excellent banchan of Jun Won and Soban, though the latter two win on overall quality.

You also get an above average iceberg lettuce salad that the restaurant deems "special," but I wish they could have another element in the salad that puts it over the top. POG-like slivers of daikon in rice vinegar come alongside another obligatory wrap item: rice paper.

If you get one of the combos, which is really ideal if it's your first time there, you can pair either sliced brisket and pork belly (the classic one-two punch of the AYCE bunch) or bulgogi and galbi, which are more traditional offerings of the a la carte setup. The marinaded meats really shine here, just lightly gilded with shimmery sauce, a hint of sweetness and soy that elevate the tender beef to some of the best I've had on either shore of the Pacific. Most of the best beef barbeque places in Korea tend to be swanky, traditional affairs, with Australian beef featured in humble slabs. Like those restaurants, Genwa's servers place the meat the grill for you, though you have to finish the job youself. I would argue that our American version of Korean barbecue is better than the motherland's counterparts, if only because of the better produce and superior beef.

Genwa Korean Barbecue
5115 Wilshire Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90036
323-549-0760

One year into Scoops Westside

It's been hard to keep this food blog going for the past year, but I've tried my best to keep you readers apprised of the delicious things I've been eating. Admittedly, getting out and eating the latest and greatest has been more difficult after running a food business, but I've still had some great meals. First of all, I wanted to take this time to reflect on the past 364 days. After one year of business, I've learned a lot about what it takes to be successful in the food world. The thing that took me the longest to get used to was the every day aspect, with new customers, new experiences, and stories to tell to people walking into the shop. It's truly Groundhog Day, and sometimes you're just not in the mood to be super enthusiastic about what you're selling. It's a tough grind that's truly mitigated by the great product that we sell at Scoops.

I've had my stab at a few of the country's top ice cream shops and I believe that Scoops has a place among them. I was pleasantly surprised this year when Complex Magazine named Scoops Westside the top ice cream shop in the country, ahead of some other excellent producers. I actually didn't believe it when I saw it. I still don't think we're better than some of the other shops (let alone Scoops on Heliotrope!) but I think that what I helped to do was digitize Scoops marketing strategy and make it accessible for people who live on the other side of town. Seeing this kind of enthusiasm and support for the product we sell has made it easier to be enthusiastic about ice cream. Still, everyday there are people who certain expectations about what we ought to be (plain Jane vanilla, for example), and I have to try and convince them to try something new. Ice cream, like coffee, wine, and beer, is highly ingrained in people's perceptions. In fact, it's even difficult to place what Scoops exactly is. It's not quite old fashioned American ice cream nor is it true Italian gelato - it's somewhere in between, with the advantages of both (creaminess vs. lightness of texture vs. unique flavors).

Another aspect that I've learned is that ice cream, like any food business, is about relating to people. It's easy to become a "nazi" if you know how good your product is. It's easy to dismiss people and just turn them away if they don't understand the kind of product you present. The harder thing to do is to sell people on your concept, and be patient while they try and understand. The ones you win over will be your strongest supporters and those who keep trying, well, it's your job to keep selling, shaving away unnecessary bits and pieces along the way.

At its core, ice cream is a personal thing - it's the perfect reminder of childhood, that Rosebud of our lives that we can turn to when things are off kilter or uncertain. Sugar, cream, milk - it's all a formula of familiarity. It's in that medium that we try and bend perceptions and expectations. When we give people flavors with goat cheese or bacon bits, wasabi or durian, we're allowing people to taste and see something completely extraordinary in a familiar context.

After a year of doing this, you start seeing the beauty in continuing to show newcomers. You get just a little bit giddy when someone says it's their first time here and you present a little nub of fresh ice cream on a shiny metal demitasse spoon, and you see their reaction to tasting it. I've had some customers literally bang their fists on the glass display, or hang their head back at the amazing flavor of what they've tasted. I'm sure other people who work in the food/hospitality industry strive to see this reaction in their customers, the ones who overtly express their joy and satisfaction with their food and drink. I think it's ultimately what drives those who are passionate about serving people.

Another incredible benefit of working at a shop has been the number of relationships I've built. I really appreciate all the friends who have supported me and come by from all walks of life. It would take too long to give a shout out to everyone, but I'm super thankful for all the food, coffee, lunches, six-packs, etc.

This past year I was also quoted in the New York Times, where I seemingly complained that I left a cushy bank job for basically a janitorial position. It's humorous yet serious - I spent more time this past year cleaning and doing dishes than the rest of my life prior, combined. There are some drawbacks to owning your business - it's stressful. It's never-ending. There's paperwork and checks to be written and supplies to be purchased. I'm looking forward to replicating myself (I've been able to accomplish that through a very trusty employee) and planning the next concept, which has already gotten a go-ahead from my investors. I'm hoping I'll have a chance to unveil it within another year, when Scoops Westside hits 2 years.

Gook Hwa House - Koreatown, Los Angeles, CA

If Koreans have learned one thing about cold weather, it's that nothing warms you up better than food. A huge part of Korean cuisine is comprised soups and stews that warm the soul. Probably the best part of Korea that we rarely see in the U.S. is the wonderful variety of street food (as might be true of all of Asia's street food culture). I remember growing up our family would drive across Korea by car, stopping by the large rest area depots that made fresh, hot hodo gwaja, walnut shaped treats that were filled with warm red bean paste. Koreans are pretty awesome at making semi-sweet desserts and snacks that are good any time of day, and sometimes gain an unreasonable amount of deliciousness when the weather gets cold.


I remember the first hhotteok I had in my life, popularized in L.A. by a mysterious Gypsy-wagon parked at the former California Market called "Koo's" (my buddies and I just called it the hhotteok truck. The steel-top griddle treat was like one of the halves that comprise a McDonald's McGriddle, but about a hundred times better. Hotteok is made of a stiff dough that's wrapped around brown sugar (sometimes nuts and honey) and griddled, leaving a molten goo that spills out, sometimes singing the tongue badly. A light dusting of cinnamon rounds out the intoxicating aromas of warmed dough, browned to perfection by Mr. Koo (or whoever was working with him). They cost a mere buck, and were a must-eat if you were passing by California Market on Western.  The best version of hhotteok for me was in Seoul's Insadong district, where a woman deep-fried the suckers and wrapped them in cardstock paper. They were like a Korean churro, crisp on the outside with a lava-like center that seemed to never cool. On a cold evening, they were pretty much the ideal walk-away snack.


Sadly the hhotteok at Gook Hwa House are disappointing. They seem bready and pancake-like, which isn't necessarily a bad thing if that's what you're in the mood for. It's nice that they're a bit more complex, in that instead of stiff dough they seem to combine walnuts, almonds, sesame, and honey powder. But I really like the chewy goodness of the dough that I used to get at Koo's (which has supposedly relocated to the Beverly Boulevard California Market...).

What you're really here at Gook Hwa House is the gook hwa bbang (bbang is better pronounced like a very soft "p"), where the hodo gwaja takes a circular shape with an imprint of a flower (supposed to be a chrysanthemum). The cute treat is a mere 9 for $3, and everything is self service. A gentleman and his helper work hard to whip out the treats while you pay (bins containing cash are right up front) and stuff the gook hwa bbang into your paper bag. The soft cake surrounding the red bean paste gets a nice browning, leaving you with a not-too-sweet after dinner dessert (worked great after my monster meal of barbecue at Oo Gook).  Walk around Assi Market, shop around what's arguably the best Korean supermarket in L.A., and warm up!

Gook Hwa House
3525 W. 8th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90005

Oo-Gook Korean BBQ - Koreatown, Los Angeles, CA

The Korean beef barbeque format is as trite as burgers at a gastropub. Back in the day, the cool kids used to hang at Soot Bul Jeep (where I've never been), driven by its Zagat guide entry and the legendary smoke-stack of a space along a dingy cooridor along 8th Street. Soju bottles would run amok, sided by their taller brethren of Hite and OB beer. My family used to reside at either the James M. Wood (as in the street) version of The Corner Place (Koreans call it Gil Mok) or more often at the Cerritos branch, where I'd frolic around the large environs, high on the sugary fresh broth of their famous cold noodles (after a health dip of grilled meat, of course). These days the AYCE (all you can eat) trend is on its as popular as its been, the glory days of places like Soot Bul Gui Rim or Moo Dae Po (either #1 or #2 - I'm not sure why Koreans have to enumerate their places) seeing a steady plateau. The $10 lunch or $15 (and under) dinner AYCE is packed as always, a credit to the success of O Dae San. Soo Woon Galbi and Park's BBQ on Vermont have healthy traffic while the more westerly Genwa is attracting the gentrified Hancock Park families in droves (and to their credit, the 25-odd banchan is a great feature).

Funny thing is, Korean barbecue as it exists in L.A.'s Koreatown is a worldwide rarity - a treat to a special synergy that our glorious Union of the States as well as proximity to the mother land has created. Throw in ambitious restaurateurs, a constant supply of high quality beef at low prices, and the perfect gourmand's setup - all-you-can-eat, and you quite a little industry. I wonder how many cattle give their lives every day, only to be slivered into the minutest pieces and grilled into a char on some tabletop.

The one little oddity is Oo Gook, perhaps the oddest shape of a restaurant in Koreatown, yet completely at place on a lonely meadow somewhere in the outskirts of Seoul or Nagoya, for that matter. Apparently it used to house a small church (oh Koreans and their churches, carved out of any space imaginable), though the double-decker building now advertises a particularly palatable special: all you can eat "premium" beef. Of course, Koreans, being the communal culture that they are, wouldn't fall for that trap unless there was some truth to it. Reputation alone will build or destroy a place faster than wildfire, which is why so many restaurants in Koreatown see a quick death. You'd never know that a joint in Koreatown opens or closes because Eater hasn't made a special mandate for the area (though I've certainly been tempted to try).

Onto Oo Gook, you pay $25 bucks and you get a superb selection of 18 choices to throw onto the barbee.  We started out with the classic "cha dol baegee", or simply, "cha dol." Korean language just sounds awesome when you pronounce it perfectly, and the ennunciation of cha dol (sliced brisket) seems to trigger a Pavlovian response when I'm sitting at the grill. It's just marvelous seeing those fatty slivers melt away their luscious fat, browning within seconds and sometimes taking on a quick sear depending on the alacrity of your table's flame. Dip in either sesame oil or jalapeno'd soy sauce and you're money. Add the crunch of lightly tossed salad, or a waxy sheet of dduk bossam (or less elegantly, "rice paper" for you gringos), and a smear of ssam jang (red chili paste mixed with miso paste). The older folk generally mix in a sliver of fresh garlic (while I like to let mine grill a bit), or toss in a bite of kimchi. The beauty of Korean barbecue is that no two bites are the same since you build your meal as you go. Play with different textures, banchan, meat, sauces - it's all free game. Just don't, under any circumstances, eat in the wrong order. By this, I mean, you should generally follow up beef with pork, not the other way around. Why? I don't know. It's just better to finish with ssam gyup ssal.

We ordered a few other Black Angus sliced beef pieces of mysterious nomenclature, such as the tongue (fabulous), short rib (again terrific), and prime rib (actually a 1/2 in. rib-eye steak). If I had a few of my college buddies with me instead of my parents and one of their friends, we could have run the gamut (which would have included marinaded intestine, skirt steak, marinated short rib, beef belly, and baby octopus, among other things). I did find the fresh shrimp to be delightful, unfrozen and quickly orange on the hot grill. You have to shell and be-head them yourself but that's the fun of it! After you sear them, you get the pure umami of their feelers and shells laded on the grill and then place on some pre-cut slabs of pork belly - score! The resulting flavor is pretty awesome, almost Vietnamese because of the shrimpy-porkiness. But then you realize that the main drawback of "premium" beef barbecue is the terrible infusion of beef tallow that gets under your palate and skin. You have to truly love the intense flavor of beef to withstand this barrage because even shrimp and pork belly are child's play.

I asked my mother's friend, who was joining us from Seoul and headed back the following morning, how much a meal like this would cost in Korea. First of all, it doesn't exist. And if it did, it would easily hurdle $100 a person. Easily. Koreans in Korea have somehow fooled themselves into thinking that American beef is suspect and that Australian beef is better. Their wallets pay the consequences - a single serving of beef that you might get at Oo Gook, or any premium barbecue place in Koreatown would run $30-35. Consider that our party of 4 (including three people in their 50's...who don't eat very much) had 9-10 plates, do the math.

So $25 bucks for such a treat is a singular one. Is the quality of the meat and banchan that much better than say, Moo Dae Po or Road to Seoul? I'm not sure. But hey, you can sit on the second floor window seat and see the sun set, instead of wiping smoke out of your eyes.

Oo Gook
3385 W 8th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90005
Seven Days a Week: 11AM-12AM

Note: Oo Gook roughly translates to cattle country in Korean. "Oo" refers to cow. "Gook" means place or country. Or at least that's what my mom told me.