hankyoreh

When I set out on the long journey from my home in Seoul to Tongyeong, South Gyeongsang Province, I had a single purpose in mind: the whole day would be devoted to eating and drinking.

I’d been planning the trip for a few months with some like-minded friends. By the time we finally set out, we’d rearranged, reworked, and readjusted our itinerary a hundred times.

Upon reaching Tongyeong after five or so hours on the road, I was a little taken aback. The city didn’t seem to live up to its elegant nickname of “the Naples of Asia.” My expectations were deflated by the boisterous atmosphere.

The first place we headed upon arrival was a restaurant called Sanyang in the vicinity of the Tongyeong bus terminal. We wanted to get over our assumption that fish, grilled or raw, is the go-to dish on the seaside.

At Sanyang, we ordered bibimbap (rice tossed with mixed vegetables) and gomtang, a soup made by boiling a huge oxhead all day long and then tossing in various cuts of meat into the broth. A fat egg was also bobbing in the soup.

The bibimbap looked enticing, with strips of tofu atop a veritable medley of prepared vegetables — bracken fiddleheads, zucchini, Korean radish, spinach, and mushrooms. The dish’s flavor was understated, relying on the seasoning of the vegetables.

After a spoonful of the savory gomtang, which I chased with a shot of soju, I was back in good spirits.

We strolled along the beach, snacking on beondegi (silkworm larva) and brownies with beer and coffee as our beverages, before making our way to Yasojuban, in Nampyeong Village, Sanyang Township. We drove up a winding road through the woods until we reached a cozy building, nestled in the hills.

Yasojuban, which is both restaurant and residence for the restaurateurs, only accepts guests by reservation. Unless you’ve been here, you wouldn’t know the joy that comes from puttering around the yard at sunset and meeting the various wildflowers and herbs growing there.

The moment I saw the tearoom, with its various tea sets, and the fermenting room, housing the makgeolli (rice wine) made by the owners, I felt for sure this was no ordinary restaurant. Few people in Seoul would have thought of dining in the fermenting room, amid the sour smell of makgeolli in the making.

The smart and sophisticated food at Yasojuban was served in generous portions. It might seem to incredible to think that this restaurant in the Tongyeong backwoods could have produced such a procession of plates: ricotta cheese salad drizzled with a sauce of makgeolli and vinegar; rich raw mackerel, its skin seared with a blowtorch; a plate piled with rare treasures of the sea, including wild-caught mussels, horned turbans, scallops, and tiger prawn; a clear soup of seasonal pine mushrooms and abalone; rice cooked with mugwort; and barbecued baby back ribs.

Just as soon as we started talking about how full we were — too full for an antacid, even — our waiters brought out the freshly brewed makgeolli. This rice concoction met our full approval as an after-dinner refreshment, with its gentle fizz, limpid color, refreshing acidity in the mouth, and smooth passage down the throat.

Experiences we’d taken for granted in the city felt novel down in Tongyeong. I’m not trying to make the small-minded argument that everything is possible in the city. I felt brave in my ignorance and took pleasure in the unfamiliar setting. My first night in Tongyeong, on my first visit to the city, flowed by on a stream of booze, as I clutched my bulging belly.

By Baek Moon-young, food and lifestyle columnist

Please direct comments or questions to [english@hani.co.kr]