Intestine

Unless you're a vegetarian, you've probably eaten intestines at some point in your life without even realizing it. Due to the cheap nature and availability of this offal, it is cooked around the world, often as a casing for meats and liquids, or a combination thereof. You might also know this as sausage, though these days the submucosa of the intestinal casing is sometimes substituted for a synthetic collagen-like material. For all intents and purposes of this post we're talking about pig intestine, which is still used for sausage casing, just not as commonly as its bovine counterpart. The United States doesn't find much culinary use for intestines outside of sausage, but other countries, such as Korea, like them to play the starring role in their cuisine.

I first had Korean BBQ when I was a teenager in Japan and had never even heard of it. I sat down with my host family on the first night I met them ("Americans all drink beer, right? You want a beer?" "Um...yes, we do. Starting when we're 15. Two please.") and had one of the best meals of my life. Since then, I've been hooked.

The Korean BBQ joint Honey Pig is awesome. And not just kind of awesome. Spinal Tap wailing on your guitar at 11 awesome. It's open in two locations in northern Virginia (Annandale, which is essentially Koreatown, and Centreville, which isn't far off). It's open 24/7 and is usually packed with people around the clock, though I have oddly never had to wait more than a few minutes. The food is good, the BBQ is cooked on a grill at your table, and you leave reeking to high hell of cooked meat. I wouldn't take a date there expecting a romantic evening or anything, but you'll leave with your belly content. And if you're having trouble reading the Honey Pig link, it's probably because you're not fluent in Korean. I would link to a menu written in English, but the one I found online is pretty much, well, not actually what they serve.

Because I don't want to sound like a complete ass (or more so than I usually do), I'm going to leave out trying to type in a Korean accent.

Waitress: Hi! What would you like?

Me: Three orders of dumplings and-

Her: WHAT?!

Me: Three orders of dumplings...?

Her: You can't have three orders of dumplings!

Me: Why?

Her: Too much! (Insert spherical Bilbo Baggins stomach emulation by her here)

Me: ...and an order of...coughbeefintestinescough

Her: Uhsaywhat?

Me: Beef...intestines?

Her: (hands on hips) You want beef intestines?!?! (laugh) Okay, sassy boy!

She takes the order to the open kitchen in the back where I hear some incredulous "eh?!"s followed by rapid fire Korean, guffaws, and staff unabashedly pointing at me. I guess I forgot to mention I was the only Caucasian there. I'd been before a few times, but never gotten the intestines, which apparently few people do.

The intestines come looking downright foul before they hit the grill. Like something gloopy out of a pig's stomach, for instance. Wild, I know. I didn't stop her to ask if I could get a good whiff, but with the marinade the dish was swimming in I doubt it would have mattered.

Don't mind the empty chair in the background. I said the place was packed and it's my blog, so there.

The intestine was placed on the grill and curled almost delicately with tongs by the waitress into pleasant little curlicues. Pretty much instantly a grayish, foaming substances came out of the tubes, and this is when I realized that the offal perhaps hasn't been cleaned to its maximum potential. Strangely enough, the thought of what might be in there turned my stomach even more than eating testicles. But then the smell of smoky goodness enveloped me (or the smoldering mushroom cloud coming from the grill), and I knew I was in for a treat. That, and the grill is placed with grooves at an angle, so all the bad "stuff" (hopefully) found its way out.

The meat was turned a few more times and nicely seared, then it was chopped and additional marinade was added along with jalapenos and garlic. Let me just say there must be some sort of garlic surplus in northern Virginia, because damn, son. Remember what I said about not taking a date to get Korean BBQ? You've been forewarned.

Tic Tac, sir?

In the tradition of Korean ssam, you take some leafy lettuce, some rice, jalapenos and raw/grilled garlic if you're feeling brave, and whatever banchan, or sides like kimchi, you want to add. It's kind of like assembling your own Korean taco. This process is similar for most dishes there and for Korean BBQ in general.

The intestine wrap was chewy--though less so than I thought it would be--but tasty. I can tell that without the savory marinade and sides, it would be nearly flavorless on its own. I've nearly run the gamut on the menu at Korean BBQ restaurants, with the spicy pork, kalbi, and bulgogi bing my favorites, but it's all good.

I'd suggest washing your meat-scented clothes ASAP or risk receiving a "friendly greeting" by your dog at the door.