Leaving the flea market behind, I jumped in a taxi and headed to Chungmoro Pet Street. This block has about one hundred pet stores on each side of the street. Koreans, as UsWeekly would say, "are just like us!" They have dogs, cats, snakes, spiders, and other creepy crawly creatures as pets. But me? I really didn't dig this place. So many cute and adorable puppies, all crying out for my attention, and yet I wasn't allowed to touch any of them. "But he just wants to be held!," I said to the store owner about the adorable St. Bernard puppy jumping out of his bin towards me. My request was met with a stern "Aniyo" (that's no in Korean, for those without a nifty translation book). Although all the puppies were kept in glass bins with open tops and appeared to have enough room to move about, it just wasn't my scene. I like seeing dogs romp and play out in the open. I thought about scooping up as many as possible, running out of the joint at full speed, hopping on the next plane, and bringing them back to a loving home in Setauket. And then I saw the "Declaration of Meats" sign at the airport flash through my vision. I doubt my mother would be very thrilled with the idea as well. And so we left and ventured into a vet's office, in which I saw a very sick dog in need of an operation. Tears were welling in my eyes and I just couldn't take it. Images of Daisy and Tigger and Charlie and other past pets who have left me for the bone & catnip-fllled animal heaven danced through my mind. I suddenly was desperate to snuggle with our dog Myles. I had an overwhelming urge to suddenly adopt as many dogs in the world as possible. I had to escape.
Bleary eyed, I staggered into the JangChungdong area. This section of Seoul is very well known for restaurants that specialize in pork meat. Sometimes the best place doesn't have the flashiest store front. Tucked off the street and down an alley way, I fell into the loving arms of the Grandmother of jock bal (pork bits). Owner and founder of Pyung Ahn Do, she really knows what is up when it comes to cooking pork. "I look like a mess and I'm chilled to the bone," I think to myself. She shuttles me towards a seat by the heater. Thank you Grandma. Gam sa hap nee da. What better place to recenter your psyche then over a nice meal of pigs feet? Step One: pick up lettuce. Step Two: attempt to grab pork foot with chop sticks. Step Three: realize you stink with chop sticks and reach out with your hand and just grab the damn chunk of meat. Step Three: dip in a preserved shrimp and salt sauce. Step Four: add soy paste, hot yellow mustard sauce, pickled radishes, and a bit of garlic. Step Five: shove the entire thing in your mouth and realize that yes, indeed, you put way too much garlic on this thing and your mouth is on fire from the hot mustard sauce. Smile! You're on camera. To be honest, this was really delicious. Except for my mishap with the garlic and hot mustard, it tasted just like other parts of a pig but even fattier. It does not, however, compare to a nice slab of crispy bacon. Does anything?
After this experience of jok bal and a cold noodle soup that looked like brains but tasted more like refrigerated Ramen, I would like to take this opportunity to make a public announcement. Let it be known that on this day, at this hour, I challenge Andrew Zimmern of Bizarre Foods fame to a duel. An eating duel of strange and rare foodstuffs of any variety. Bring it on Zimmern. I am not afraid.
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