For those not put off by the seemingly grotesque, there is a wonderful world of foods waiting to be discovered. They might be full of holes, knots, and irregularly shaped indentations. Or they might be gristly, gooey, and goopy. The oddest of foods might even be wriggly, but if you take the chance, then you will find new avenues for experience that can help you understand yourself and others. All you have to do is open wide…
In 2018, K-pop idol Hwasa was recorded eating a lunchtime meal of barbequed gopchang (곱창) on the MBC reality show, I Live Alone. In the scene – a scene meant to approximate the star’s real life – the food was removed from its usual context as an accompaniment to alcohol and social pleasantry.
Instead, Hwasa ate the beef intestines in an empty restaurant, on a sun-drenched summer afternoon, facing a quiet city street.
Being a professional singer/rapper/dancer, she involved her whole body in the consumption of the meal. With each bite, she gathered her long hair and twirled it aside before reaching for the next sizzling piece.
A puff of smoke. A lick of flame. A swig of clear, lemon-lime soda. She burped. A close-up shot of lips parting on teeth. An audible inhalation. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
While her unbridled enthusiasm sparked an intestine renaissance that is still playing out to this day, intestines were a popular ingredient in Korea well before Hwasa ate them on TV. Restaurants specializing in its preparation occupy prime real estate in every neighborhood in every city in Korea. A mainstream ingredient, people love intestines despite the fact that it belongs to a category of food that everyone agrees is rather strange. Colloquially labeled jing-geuleoun (징그러운), the adjective means “gross” but is also tinged with a certain anxiety-inducing fear – fear of the unknown, yes, but also fear of the mortality that quietly haunts each moment of life.
I’ve had my fair share of such foods, and though some are innocuous, others are outright spine-tingling. Dwaeji ggupdaegi (돼지 껍데기), or “pig skin,” might not seem to belong on such a list, but a square with the nipple intact and protruding becomes a food experience that is as jing-geuleoun as any. The nipple not only reminds us of what our corporeal selves are made of, but also forces us to establish a kinship with our meal. It’s impossible not to see ourselves in this most sensitive and private of parts. Devoid of breast and framed by a rectangle of collagenous skin, it’s almost too much for the conscious mind to handle. If one can get over this mental hurdle, though, then the nightmarish tension springs back to reveal a delightful snap.
Dakbal (닭발) and jokbal (족발), or “chicken feet” and “pig feet” respectively, share this same sense of brutal honesty. The talons, hooves, and metacarpals are so intact that they could allow a veterinarian to review their anatomy. And yet, dakbal is slathered with such a tasty red pepper paste, that aversion to this dish would rob oneself of a uniquely delicious experience. Similarly, jokbal, with its aroma of Christmas ham smothered in apple cinnamon pie, is a sensory delight for those able to look past the nicked knuckles.
Beef intestines occupy the same list as nipply pig skin and barnyard animal feet for all the reasons that you suspect. They’re creepy in that they evoke human entrails, and they’re scary because they remind us how soft and vulnerable we really are. Still, despite the frightful image, it is an exceedingly popular food. Whether it’s served in soup, as skillet-fry, or on barbeque, like other jing-geuleoun food, it is typically only served after a night of many drinks. The darkness of night may very well help conceal the sight of such a meal, but a state of near total inebriation helps one forget the feeling of melancholic doom that inevitably arises.
Another word to classify these foods is anju (안주). While America has bar food in the form of unshelled peanuts, pickled eggs, and Tuesday tacos, it tends to be pedestrian; it appeals to the masses. Anju, on the other hand, tends to be more extreme. In this regard, it may be spicier, oilier, or chewier, but it’s always more fulfilling than food served in a Western bar.
A night that ends with a large helping of gopchang typically starts with a small green bottle of soju (소주), a distilled rice wine that tastes like vodka but goes down like water. Liquid courage is needed to chow down on the oozing, bubbling meat rings. Soju, in large enough quantities, explodes inhibitions, allowing one to indulge in a feast of pure gluttony.
Eating gopchang for the first time isn’t easy. It is like contemplating a bungee jump with wobbly knees; the longer you wait, the more the terror takes hold, but as soon as you commit, you will find that the fun flies past. What used to be fear is transformed into an adrenaline wave of exuberant pleasure, at which point you will realize that the gelatinous bits and crispy edges pair well with marinated chives. This beautiful combination of textures and flavors is the reward one earns for facing one’s repulsion head-on, mouth open and ready to gorge.
Daniel Speechly is the Academic Coordinator at a private language institute in Seoul, South Korea where he teaches reading and writing to young adults. In his free time he runs NFEscapism.com, a nonfiction book review blog created to help others fall in love with some of his favorite books. His most recent publications appear in Panorama: Journal of Travel, Place, and Nature and The Corvus Review.
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