Oyster Jjamppong Under an Old Euljiro Sign

Straight There After Work

It wasn’t far from work, so I went straight there at the end of the day. During business hours, Euljiro is full of offices, workshops and print shops. Toward evening, the lights come on in restaurants and bars and people begin to walk a little more slowly.

I went with a colleague. It was the sort of visit that starts with ‘Do you want to get dinner before we go?’ These places often fit a day more easily when they’re already in the neighborhood.

There was a short line outside. Tables turned over quickly enough that we didn’t have to wait long. While we stood there, I could see office workers, families and people who looked as though they already knew the room.

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What an Old Sign Suggests

Andongjang has appeared in the Blue Ribbon Survey and is designated a Seoul Future Heritage site. In Korea, a long-established restaurant is often called a nopo. At Andongjang the word feels earned.

The room looks much as the sign leads you to expect. The arrangement of the tables, the lighting and the color of the walls still have the character of a place that’s been in use for a long time.

Before I’d opened the menu, I already knew what I’d come to try: a flavor the restaurant has had years to get right.

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The Oyster Jjamppong

The best-known dish is oyster jjamppong, a Korean-Chinese noodle soup. There’s a spicy version and a regular one. I’d heard people speak especially well of the regular bowl.

We ordered the regular oyster jjamppong and a small tangsuyuk, Korean-Chinese sweet-and-sour pork. It was a good amount to share. The first thing I noticed was the broth. The color was clear and less red than I expected. It looked as though it would have some depth without much heat.

The seafood came through in the first spoonful. The oyster had a distinct flavor without taking over the broth. I could see why people liked the regular version. A stronger hit of chili would have covered up some of what we were tasting.

The noodles were neither especially springy nor quick to go soft. The texture felt like one of the basics a long-running restaurant has learned to keep right. I kept going back for another mouthful and finished almost all the broth.

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A Piece of Tangsuyuk Between Spoonfuls

The small portion was plenty for two. The batter wasn’t thick, so you could still feel the texture of the pork. The sauce was an old-fashioned balance of sweet and sour, without too much of either.

A piece of pork between spoonfuls of noodle broth made for an easy rhythm. It was a simple combination, and I could see why people had kept ordering it.

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At the Next Table

I noticed someone at the next table explaining the food to a visitor from overseas. They seemed to be going through the dishes and showing the guest how to eat them.

It struck me as the kind of place you might bring someone to show them where you actually eat in Seoul. An ordinary restaurant you know well can tell a visitor a great deal about a city.

A restaurant earns something through the years when people can still use it for the same things. One of those is bringing a guest to dinner without having to make a special occasion of it.

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The Kind of Dinner That Stays With You

Dinner at Andongjang felt like something I could do again whenever I happened to think of it.

We talked over dinner, finished without lingering too long and went back out into the Euljiro evening. It fit easily into the day.

I’d have said we went out to eat. Over time, I’ve remembered the room along with the food.

A bowl of oyster jjamppong under an old sign was enough to keep an ordinary day in my memory.

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