A Horse With No Name

Three hours south of the port of Mokpo lies Jeju Island. With its close proximity to the mainland, warmer weather, lush green vegetation, uncommonly clear water (for a place that far north, at least), volcanic sand, and the breathtakingly gargantuan Hallasan volcano, Jeju-do is the preferred vacation destination for the nation's time constrained salary men. Does it all add up to even being being considered as one of the potential new Seven Wonders of the World? Well I guess for the right amount of money paid to the right for-profit entitity it does!

But what peaked my interest in Jeju was neither Hallasan nor Hallabong. It was a horse of a diffferent color, so to speak. In Korean its called malgogi, literally meaning "horse meat". And one trip to the malgogi jip was enough to convince this skeptical eater that Old MacDonald's been inadvertently slaughtering the wrong creature.

Look where horsing around will land you

After enlisting the recommendations of some incredulous islanders, we settled on a popular restaurant near the  stadium complex. After parking my car, we walked past the soccer stadium and made the first right that followed a fenced-in track. After crossing a stone bridge, we spotted a colorful cadre of tour buses orderly parked around a nondescript building on the right side of the road.  Upon closer inspection, we could clearly see a business sign bearing the unmistakable cartoon image of a smiling horse. In Korea, a smiling animal outside a restaurant is the kiss of death for that particular species. We had come to the right place.

After weighing our options, we opted for the 25,000 won horse sampler set, which included boiled horse blood, horse meat stew, horse hot pot, raw horse meat, and horse samgyeopsal, as well as the plethora of scrumptious side dishes typical of any Korean restaurant. First up was the horse blood soup, served inside a ceramic blue cup. Served cold, the blood was flavored with ginseng, giving it a crisp, spicy taste. I was about to ask for seconds when our hostess promptly presented us with our next dish, horse meat stew.  Small chunks of horse meat floated among thin slices of onion in a clear, steaming broth. The soup was perfectly seasoned, while the horse was indistinguishable from beef. 

Next was the highlight of the meal, horse sashimi, or raw horse meat. Sliced into small thin morsels and topped with sesame seeds, it had a slight smoky quality, and dissolved almost instantly inside the mouth. Dipping the bright red meat inside a tray of sesame oil, I was wholly unprepared for the tidal wave of flavor which I had inadvertently released. The nutty flavor of the sesame perfectly synthesized with the earthy aspects of the meat, and like a pack of starving wolves we ravenously devoured these thin strings of succulence.

I'm getting hungry just thinking about this!

Of all the unusual entrees, the horse samgyeopsal was the only somewhat disappointing selection. These thick fatty slices of belly meat are meant to slowly cook on the grill, giving dining members plenty of time to talk, smoke, and drink soju. But horse meat is too lean (I mean why would anyone complain about that?), and cooking is completed in a minute or two. Unfortunately we had trouble keeping pace with the rapidly charring meat, and had to toss a few pieces. But the meat itself was every bit as tasty as pork samgyeopsal, just without the chewy (and unhealthy) globs of fat.  

Will we be seeing horse meat advertised in local butcher shops anytime soon? Probably not, although it would be a lot cheaper (and a lot tastier) than anything from the yuppie lean animal of the month Rolodex. So next time you're in Korea, race down to Jeju-do and gallop over to the nearest horse restaurant. It might not be the most popular cut of meat, but it might just be the glue that holds your taste buds together.