Tradition-based, the food at 8282 is vibrant and modern.

Nothing improves a derelict neighborhood more than a good restaurant. It throws light onto the street, inside there is color and the sound of people having a good time, and sometimes the aromas float out from the open door. Nowhere is this more true than on New York’s Lower East Side, which began in the 19th century as a tenement refuge for immigrants but devolved into a post-war drug-drenched no man’s land.

Today “Loisaida” teems with life, driven by youth who now feel at ease strolling the streets at any time, and much of that reclamation is owed to the scores of small restaurants like 8282, which for the moment has outdoor seating from which to watch the passing parade of people of enormous diversity and downtown fashion.

8282's owners, chef Bong Le Jo and his fiancee Jee Kim run the restaurant as a clear labor of love.

8282 really is a labor of love because Chef Bong Le Jo (formerly at Perry Street and Dovetail) is partnered with his fiancée, Jee Kim (previous owner of Pado). The number refers to South Korea’s country code, +82, as well as a get-it-done phrase that means “quickly.” Their intent is to modernize Korean food, which has become the cuisine of the moment and is far from the predictable (though delicious) brazier-cooked meat menus at traditional Korean restaurants. But it is clear in every bite that Bong’s cooking is wholly Korean inspired, for while Asia food culture shares many flavors, 8282’s bears little resemblance to Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian or Thai.

It’s a small room of just 33 seats, pleasantly decorated with a small bar to one side. At a peak hour it can be loud but not so much that conversation is restricted. The service, overseen by Kim, is amiable and everything is explained with a proud fervor. There are, of course, several newly invented cocktails and several sojus, which is a kind of sweet, grain-based sake/vodka.

Spring pea crude is one of the Korean-style appetizer sizers called anju.

The short menu—smartly so for a small kitchen and dining room—is divided into two categories: small plates called Anju, which means food you eat with alcohol, and larger Banju plates meant to be shared. It’s really quite amazing that Bong can incorporate so many disparate elements into each dish without any tasting like another; add to that their vibrant color and rustic plating and it shows care for every detail.

Among the first items is a colorful spring pea crudo (a word that seems to have knocked sashimi out of the ring) of aged, raw hiramasa (yellowtail) enlivened with a lemon yuzuvinaigrette and topped with very tangy soy pickled pepper, sugar snap peas for texture and pea puree ($19).

Bluefin tuna tartare ($25) is diced and mixed with a sesame aïoli that gives it a real creaminess and comes with crisp, fried seaweed chips. The fermented cabbage beloved by Koreans called kimchi is made with tomato as part of a salad of red beets and nubbins of house-made burrata, basil, perilla mint and pistachio ($16).

K.F.C. fried chicken is a Lorean version of the US chain's well-spiced chicken.

It’s impossible to resist a dish called “Boneless K.F.C”—fried chicken thighs tossed in a Korean soy garlic sauce, served with a small helping of pickled radish noodles ($16). Littleneck soojebi is a bowl of tender steamed clams ($20), but the real delight is in the potato and pumpkin noodles, butter scallion, ginger and black pepper soy sauce that you wish you had bread with which to sop it all up.

Angel's hair pasta noodles are topped with sesame, seaweed and Padilla mint.

No menu these days can be without pasta, and 8282’s entry is angel’s hair spaghetti tossed in soy sauce with seaweed, sesame seed crumbs, perilla leaves and oil ($17) that was somewhat bland. It was suggested we add uni, which might have added a briny flavor, but that carried a supplement.

The subtler spicing of these small plates prepares the palate for stronger flavors in the banju, like the rich, wonderfully gooey dalgalbi kimchee-bap of marinated, stir-fried chicken morsels over kimchi rice laced with cheese and chili paste ($21). You mix the whole thing up, then scoop it out with spoon and fork and find it’s like nothing you’ve tasted before, showing off the chef’s mettle for innovation.

Sea scallops is set atop chewy barley.

Jjajang bori-bap is a hefty plate of seared sea scallops over nice, chewy barley mixed in black bean sauce and a distinctive hint of truffle paste ($26). Iberico pork galbi is also a rich dish I’d eat frequently this fall and winter, made of grilled, soy-marinated pork, ssamjangsoy paste and roasted broccolini with red pepper vinaigrette ($28).

A single dessert, called injeolmi ice cream, is composed of layers of vanilla ice cream, Korean multi-grain, honey, and snow flake-like parmesan cheese, which is more a curiosity than anything else.

snow-like vanilla ice cream is mixed with parmesan cheese as a dessert.

How all these components meld together is testament to Bong’s concentration, getting everything in balance yet retaining their individual flavors. It is also a gutsier kind of Korean food than that served at the much praised, very pricey, uptown Atomix. 8282 fits snugly into the Loisaida milieu and does its best to showcase a highly personalized cuisine without the slightest pretense. It’s the kind of place where you look in the window, check the posted menu, look at each other, smile and say, “Let’s go in.” And you will be glad you did.

Open for dinner Wed.-Sun.