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When I lived in Paris, some of the best foods I had had were Korean home cooking. It's not a côte de boeuf that burns wood with a famous friend. Macarons are not good enough for staff in luxury hotels.
The most unforgettable comfort foods are still kimchi kimchi soup and haemul pajeon cooked by my roommate (the heiress of the Korean banking industry). We met in Le Cordon Bleu, an international intensive school and a halfway home for the rich children who were sent to find themselves. She hopes that I can help her master foreign French technology.
She has never cooked at home in Seoul, but she knows how to eat. Her strong desire led to affectionate fried rice cakes. I think she can make a velvet eventually, but honestly I don't remember.
In a Korean spoon in a small mom-and-pop shop in the northwestern suburbs of Glenview, I thought of the meals that saved me. I mentioned it briefly before in our detailed Chicago Koreatown guide, if I could, I would eat there every day. The anxiety caused by my pandemic only exacerbates this emotion and prompts people to scrutinize their food in the mid-pandemic world.
Since my last visit, Chef Kim Mi-ok’s cooking may have become better. She and her husband Kim Sung Kyu jointly own the company. There are really only two of them.
The classic bibimbap ($11.99) comes with grilled meat, assorted banchan and soft yolk omelette, which is perfect with pearly rice.
Before you start mixing, her miyeok-guk will distract you. The so-called birthday soup silky seaweed has become a healing elixir in Korean dramas. They are not wrong if you have a bowl full of umami like gold. The soft brisket pieces are almost redundant in the tangled greens until you realize that they exist for a reason. The delicate and delicious balance between land and sea will surprise you.
Did I mention that this amazing soup is free?
It also accompanies my beloved three-part feast of simmered rice cake tteokbokki ($13.99); seaweed rice (also romanized as seaweed rice), seaweed rolls, featuring chopped crispy vegetable strips; and sundae (sometimes spelled as soondae), definitely not the blood sausage of ice cream.
Their squid game is very strong. A set of fried squid ($13.99) warns that the menu is spicy, but the spicy ojingeo bokkeum has a more complex flavor than heat.
The kitchen is only open for lunch on four working days. After finishing, Mrs. Jin left the small shopping mall parking lot to pick up their two children after school.
Until then, you can order a dozen set meals from an index card-sized menu.
After that, Mr. Jin stayed to pay attention to the store and its carefully planned take-out gallery.
Salted squid ($4.99) beckoned among countless Panchens. The very fashionable ojingeo-jeot is made by salting and fermenting thin slices.
There are so many kinds of kimchi that I haven't cataloged yet, let alone tasted them all-from the flaming Chinese cabbage ($6.99) to the seasonal summer radish green yeolmu kimchi, to the white water winter kimchi with Asian pears.
In the afternoon, compact SUVs will have a steady stream of solo Asian women arriving. They wore wool mother jackets and discreet Goyard-designed thousand-dollar handbags. The plastic bags they left behind are more precious than their 2 carat diamond earrings.
They are just takeaway now. I missed the meal, but fully understood. The tranquil space awaits simple red chairs on round silver tables and printed Korean Times. The potted plants in the front are another secret sign of a real Asian family restaurant, including a giant violin-leaf fig.
"It is 7 years old," Mr. King said. "We planted it when we first opened."
The couple originally came from Jeolla Province in southwest Korea, a province known as the country's premier food producing region. They immigrated to Chicago in 2005.
He said that before they opened the restaurant, he was "just a working class." She is a wholesale worker.
"My husband asked us to open a restaurant," Mrs. King said. "Spread Korean culture through gourmet food."
This is their first and only food company, and they are self-taught.
"I just saw my mother cooking," she said.
This helps explain her barbecue ($12.99). Usually in restaurants in town, it is marinated roast beef cut into thin slices. It is often fried in home cooking and regional changes. This is the style of their home. The lovely pot juice makes up for the crispy crust you might miss.
If you want a crunchy rind, try the tonkatsu ($13.99), which is a bestseller I haven't eaten yet.
Next time, it will be soon.
Did I mention that I would eat there every day if I could?
Opening hours: Tuesday to Sunday, 10 am to 8 pm (The kitchen is open from Tuesday to Friday from 11 am to 2:30 pm)
Price: Set meal (including soup, rice, banchan and main course) $9.99 to $13.99
Barrier-free: wheelchair accessible, with toilets on a single floor
Forum evaluation: three stars, excellent
The key to scoring: four stars, excellent; three stars, excellent; two stars, very good; one star, good; no stars, dissatisfied. Meals are paid for by the Tribune.