The Korean Wave 2006 - Korean Cultural Service

A spicy, brothless version called Hamhung naeng myun,
which originated in the city of that name in North Korea,
is made with slightly chewier sweet-potato noodles and a
sauce of minced fresh red chilies, fresh red bell peppers,
garlic, ginger, onions, sugar or honey, ground sesame
seeds and sesame oil. It’s topped with the same pyramid
of brisket, pear, radish, cucumber and egg.
At Kang Suh, at 1250 Broadway (32nd Street) in
Manhattan, and also at the Yonkers branch, the dish is
served with a ladle of cold beef broth added to the noodles.
A variation is topped with very chewy, raw skate
rather than brisket.
The best naeng myun are freshly made. At Dae Dong at 17
West 32nd Street in Manhattan, Sang Sup Seo, the chef,
mixed the dough from buckwheat flour, regular wheat
flour, hot water and a splash of carbonated water mixed
with rice vinegar, “to hold the dough together,” he said.
With his fingers, he mixed it in the bowl of a machine that
kneaded it and then extruded it in a cylinder 14 inches
long by 3 1/2 inches across, enough for 6 servings.
The chef placed some dough into the steel cylinder of
an automated noodle-making machine. He pressed a lever,
pushed a button, and a cylinder pressed the dough
through a perforated cap in 294 slender strands. The
fragile pale beige noodles, each 2 feet long and a scant
one millimeter in diameter, dropped out of the machine
directly into a pot of boiling water.
Mr. Seo twirled the noodles around for a minute and a half,
removed them to a sink of cold water to stop the cooking,
and then to a sink of ice water to make them firm.
He mixed the noodles in a serving bowl with an icy slush
of broth from a refrigerated steel tub and then anointed
it with the pear, kimchi and beef.
When the noodles were presented to Mr. Kim, he added a
tablespoon of rice vinegar and a teaspoon of mustard, and
gently mixed the noodles. (Waitresses offer to cut the noodles
in half with scissors, since a skein of one-foot-long noodles
is easier to eat than one of two-foot-long noodles.)
Mr. Kim of Dae Dong recalled using a wooden noodlemaking
machine when he was growing up. The apparatus
weighed about 30 pounds, and was communally
owned by three or four families. When his family wanted
to use it, a family member went to the neighbor’s house,
dismantled the machine, and carried the parts home.
Chang Lai Ahn, the chef at Kum Gang San at 49 West 32nd
Street, who has been making naeng myun for 40 years, had
to push the dough through the old-fashioned machines using
“brute force,” he said through an interpreter.
Naeng myun is best eaten at restaurants, where it costs
around $12. The noodles are not good for takeout. They
will stick to each other, said Soo Lee, the manager of Kum
Gang San. “They will become one chunk in 15 minutes.”
“If you live next door, and you take this out,” Ms. Lee
said, “you will take the noodles separate from the rest of
the ingredients, and you can soak the noodles in ice water
to separate them. But you would have to be next door.”
But at Dae Dong, Mr. Lee’s son-in-law, Charles Cha,
who manages the restaurants with his wife, Jenny, said
naeng myun can last for 30 to 40 minutes.
He has a secret. “We wash the noodles differently when
it’s for takeout,” he said. “We wash them in ice water, and
then add a half teaspoon of soy or canola oil to trap the
moisture.” Dae Dong does not cook the noodles until
the takeout customer arrives at the restaurant. Then the
customer has to race home.
The clock is ticking.
The New York Times, wednesday, june 7, 2006
f5
108
109
Mark Veltman for The New York Times
Copyright © 2006 by The New York Times Co. Reprinted with permission.
Copyright © 2006 by The New York Times Co. Reprinted with permission.