Old and Famous Ramen in Bukchon

That is one hot ramen, and I’m not just talking about the broth.   Basically boiling broth with even hotter oil added, so violently was it bubbling that I thought that some amazing monster was going to rise from it.  Served with daikon kimchee and takuan-stlye pickles called danmuji, which are also made from daikon.  This is, in terms of temperature, the hottest thing that I’ve ever eaten, and one of the spiciest.  There’s seafood in there, some stray octopus tentacles, and a freshly cracked egg.

One of the interesting things about eating such hot food is the heat from the broth would translate to the steel chopsticks that are used here to eat Korean food, so it was kind of like slurping delicious ramen noodles (served a little on the hard side, so they didn’t get soggy or soft as you ate), covered with hot lava and sliding down a pair of thin fireplace pokers.  Very exciting.

The broth.  The broth for this ramen dish seemed mainly made from chili.  I could taste the “dryness” of the chilies when I slurped the hot broth.  Many people at the restaurant would finish their noodles and then add rice to the broth and mix it up, but I wanted to enjoy the broth more, so I spooned it down.  I like my ramen really spicy, and since the spices collect at the bottom of the bowl, this broth had a few amazingly hot bites at the end, which is one of my favourite ramen moments.  So delicious.  I could eat this everyday, and I’ve got to find it in Los Angeles.

The exterior of the restaurant.  The front entrance which has a counter-style noodle bar is the green awning on the left.  The inside is like someone’s home converted to a restaurant.  The kitchen looks like your grandma cooks there, and the ladies who cook are certainly someone’s grandmother.

The alley door to the sit down side of the restaurant.  Through the old wooden door in the alley, you go into a service area with big trash cans and you wait until you’re called to eat.  Before eating, everyone takes their shoes off.  They gave us little bags to hold our shoes in.  After taking your shoes off, you climb up to the first floor of the building, walk through the kitchen and sit down at one of two tables in a back room that looks like a tiny living room, complete with adorable baby picture on the wall.    Every non-wallpapered surface was covered with casual scrawl and drawings.  Ordered chaos, no graffiti on certain things, but everywhere on every other thing.

A bowl of ramen here costs about $3.