Food

As the crackling, hot container is hustled in, shoulders shift slightly and the flaming charcoal is placed in the center of the table. This activity is just precarious enough to remind me that cooking with fire is  dangerous and primal but almost always a communal experience. Soon, golden brown edges form on the sizzling pieces of curling marbled meat and my nostrils are filled with a smoky aroma. Cackle, pop, and fizzle. After a bit of picking and choosing, the wrapping begins. Then my month opens unusually wide, almost barbaric and obscene in its dimensions, and prepares for the package, or more like a present, covered in fresh green lettuce. It contains countless surprises for my taste buds. The first crunch is followed by a succession of tiny explosions in my mouth from tangy, zingy, pickled and pungent bombs.  It's difficult to close my mouth properly and contain all this commotion.  The second chomp snaps a hunk of garlic which is followed by a sudden sharp twang. The third bite is more reasonable and accomplished, and the red jalapeno pepper paste mingles with oil oozing from the tender meat. It drifts between my teeth, then throughout my mouth. The final bites are comfortable now, as the small portion of soft thick rice blends in, creating a kind of balance by being so bland but familiar. Everything is washed down with a quick shot of clear bitter liquor and I wince, then smile. The other people at the table smile too. I hoist my chopsticks and I lean into the kaleidoscope of colorful side dishes placed around the circular grill, once again.

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Pic below