Sometimes it feels like half the food I've ever eaten, I tried for the first time in the Convoy District. That was certainly the case when I walked into Hongyuan Kebab, a recent addition to the small but mighty strip of restaurants including Tajima Ramen, Steamy Piggy, The Friendly, and Song Hak Korean BBQ.
Like Song Hak, Hongyuan Kebab is a Korean restaurant where you cook your meat in your seat, browning some assortment of beef, pork, and seafood on a tabletop grill. However, this differs in some ways. For one, the signature options here consist of lamb and squid. For another, this is less a tabletop grill than it is a tabletop rotisserie.
Look closely at the skewered meats that arrive at your table and you'll see the metal skewers have little round gears at one end. Their teeth correspond to a little moving track along one side of the grill—as the gears turn, the skewers turn the meat, giving it a succulent, even spit-roast.
I wanted to try pretty much every meat available—okay, that's a lie: I had no interest in the beef aorta, lamb kidney, or abomasum (tripe). But with options including spare ribs ($27), squid (5 skewers for $18), and lamb ribs (4 for $30), some choices had to be made. Each order of meat contains a fair amount of that meat (there are no combos here), meaning this is a really a place for a group of four or more to order and share.
I stuck to the standard lamb (10 skewers for $27) and pork belly wrapped mushrooms (8 pieces for $17). The lamb proved excellent—for this alone I recommend the place—but the texture of pork belly and mushroom combo didn't benefit from the rotisserie treatment in the same way. I just felt like I needed to add something at least vegetable-adjacent to my meaty meal.
To that end, I also ordered a half-ear of corn ($4), which cooked at the table, but without the rotisserie action. Hongyuan is not entirely about food cooked yourself. Some dishes—such as the lamb ribs and a whole squid ($25)—are cooked in the kitchen, then brought out to your table, ready to eat (maybe to toss on the grill if you want to add some char).
Then there's a dish that intrigued me because I'd never seen it before: Naengmyeon. It's a noodle dish that has roots in North Korea—a first for me—and are apparently a big deal in its capital, Pyongyang.
Obviously, noodles aren't something you'd fire up at your table, and especially these noodles. Naengmyeon translates as "cold noodles," and they are indeed served cold, along with meat, vegetables, and half a boiled egg; in a broth so cold there are little icebergs floating around in it.
I've had cold japchae noodles at Korean restaurants before—and the occasional cold ramen—so I showed with an understanding how refreshingly cold noodle dishes go down on a hot day. But, served hot or cold, japchae features potato starch glass noodles served without sauce or broth (rather, as the internet tells me, the noodles soak up any sauce). Naengmyeon, on the other hand, features some kind of quite chewy buckwheat noodles, and the broth steps up that sense of refreshment with a somewhat surprising hit of vinegar.
It's not a bad side dish, considering how much meat will likely wind up at your table, slowly turning over the flame on your tabletop.
Sometimes it feels like half the food I've ever eaten, I tried for the first time in the Convoy District. That was certainly the case when I walked into Hongyuan Kebab, a recent addition to the small but mighty strip of restaurants including Tajima Ramen, Steamy Piggy, The Friendly, and Song Hak Korean BBQ.
Like Song Hak, Hongyuan Kebab is a Korean restaurant where you cook your meat in your seat, browning some assortment of beef, pork, and seafood on a tabletop grill. However, this differs in some ways. For one, the signature options here consist of lamb and squid. For another, this is less a tabletop grill than it is a tabletop rotisserie.
Look closely at the skewered meats that arrive at your table and you'll see the metal skewers have little round gears at one end. Their teeth correspond to a little moving track along one side of the grill—as the gears turn, the skewers turn the meat, giving it a succulent, even spit-roast.
I wanted to try pretty much every meat available—okay, that's a lie: I had no interest in the beef aorta, lamb kidney, or abomasum (tripe). But with options including spare ribs ($27), squid (5 skewers for $18), and lamb ribs (4 for $30), some choices had to be made. Each order of meat contains a fair amount of that meat (there are no combos here), meaning this is a really a place for a group of four or more to order and share.
I stuck to the standard lamb (10 skewers for $27) and pork belly wrapped mushrooms (8 pieces for $17). The lamb proved excellent—for this alone I recommend the place—but the texture of pork belly and mushroom combo didn't benefit from the rotisserie treatment in the same way. I just felt like I needed to add something at least vegetable-adjacent to my meaty meal.
To that end, I also ordered a half-ear of corn ($4), which cooked at the table, but without the rotisserie action. Hongyuan is not entirely about food cooked yourself. Some dishes—such as the lamb ribs and a whole squid ($25)—are cooked in the kitchen, then brought out to your table, ready to eat (maybe to toss on the grill if you want to add some char).
Then there's a dish that intrigued me because I'd never seen it before: Naengmyeon. It's a noodle dish that has roots in North Korea—a first for me—and are apparently a big deal in its capital, Pyongyang.
Obviously, noodles aren't something you'd fire up at your table, and especially these noodles. Naengmyeon translates as "cold noodles," and they are indeed served cold, along with meat, vegetables, and half a boiled egg; in a broth so cold there are little icebergs floating around in it.
I've had cold japchae noodles at Korean restaurants before—and the occasional cold ramen—so I showed with an understanding how refreshingly cold noodle dishes go down on a hot day. But, served hot or cold, japchae features potato starch glass noodles served without sauce or broth (rather, as the internet tells me, the noodles soak up any sauce). Naengmyeon, on the other hand, features some kind of quite chewy buckwheat noodles, and the broth steps up that sense of refreshment with a somewhat surprising hit of vinegar.
It's not a bad side dish, considering how much meat will likely wind up at your table, slowly turning over the flame on your tabletop.
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