The Garden Korean Restaurant
I DON'T know why it was that I developed, in the past few weeks, such a desire to eat Korean food. But I did, and the desire grew. At first, it had been just an envie for the spiky, ceremonious and hot, for some- thing different. Then it became, not quite an obsession, but a fixation, a precise and yearning appetite. I longed for sharp, tongue-pricking kimchee, for sesame, vine- gar and soy, for fragrant soups and hot,
sweet meats.
So I phoned up the Korean embassy (an inspiration, though I say it myself, and one which I intend using again: the Court of St James's might start preparing itself for my calls), explained that I was after the best Korean restaurant in London, and after several further halting explanations was put through to a rather amused but energetical- ly helpful gentleman who — after protract- ed and noisy consultation with others in his office — directed me to the Garden in
Hammersmith.
So to King Street. The restaurant is glori- ously unfashionable: a cramped bar is to your left as you enter, its shelves stacked with jars of vodka, gin and brandy in which sit witchy-sticks of ginseng; further on your way to the small dining room is a desultori- ly tinkling pianola draped in crocheted cloths; and indeed the whole smacks of the parlour and the commodious fustiness of a complete, and comforting, absence of Taste.
The same is not true of the food — which is fresh and true and sumptuous. This of course is the ideal set-up, a place for eating rather than parading in. We started with the Shinsul Lo, a soup that was once to be eaten only by the royal family. Traditional- ly, it is prepared in its own pot which has a chimney in the middle, in which burning coals are placed to keep it warm. The soup itself is a golden and rich broth, piled with meat and chicken and fish, eggs, beansprouts and mushrooms, studded with pine and gingko nuts, and suffused with spring onions, ginger and soy. All these flavours mingle in an aromatic fug above your bowl, delicate and seductive. Please try it: it isn't as filling as it sounds (what a decadent recommendation).
Whatever you eat next, you have to order with it some kimchee, which is the Korean dish: chinese cabbage rubbed with red pep- per powder and a paste of garlic pounded
with ginger and pickled with spring onions and soused anchovies. This somehow con- jures up the real taste of Korean food, and once you start eating it, you begin to see why Koreans have it on the table all the time. It's hard to explain exactly what Korean food is like. To say it is a halfway between Chinese and Indian is not exactly wrong, but it doesn't conjure up the light spikiness of the cuisine.
We had next the Ojing-o-hae, steamed squid in a red peppery and rice-vinegary sauce. The menu says 'hot, sweet and sour sauce' but this is nothing like the vinegary jam of the Chinese. I have a passion for spinach, and here it came cooked, left cold and soused in sesame oil and soy sauce and sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds — and a quite respectably sized bowl seemed far too painfully small.
The DIY aspect is an integral part of Korean food. Order the famous Bul Galbi, and a Mongolian helmet of a pan will be plonked in front of you (the Koreans are, after all, descended from the Mongols) and with your knitting-needle-like metal chop- sticks you can prong your strips of soy, gar- lic and ginger-soused beef and sear them on the hot dome. We went for the pork spare ribs, which come snipped into little soft slices, marinaded in sesame oil, garlic and ginger (again, for these flavourings are rarely absent but never bore) and sprinkled with sugar and placed already for you, cooked to sweet tenderness, on the curved metal pan.
Soy-soaked noodles and crispy fried courgettes completed our dinner. We weren't in a fit state even to ask what they had for pudding. I was bowled over by the place. Dinner for two (including three glasses of lager each) came to £50. The ser- vice was gentle, sweet and almost hum- blingly courteous. Most diners appeared to be Koreans, which is also a good sign. So, Mr Ambassador, kindly convey my grati- tude to your staff for its reliable recom- mendation.
Garden Korean Restaurant, 210 King Street, London W6.
Nigella Lawson
In last week's column by Jennifer Paterson, a production error introduced an otiose 4 oz of butter into the raspberry sauce. We apologise to anyone who included it.
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