It’s fine to like restaurants more than food

A week of eating out in Seoul

American diners overindex their dining experiences on service, forcing restaurants to overindex their attention on aspects of dining out that border on infantilization. There’s a fine line here. It’s a delight to be treated like a VIP. People like Greg Ryan from Bell’s and Lien Ta from Here’s Looking At You are so good at this kind of front-of-house service that customers return just because of those connections. It’s special and it matters.

But not every restaurant or staffer needs to operate that way all the time. In Seoul, I was struck by how many parts of the meal were turned over to diners, local or foreign. There’s no spiel or pandering, just a menu drop and a quick order taking. If you need something, often you can grab it yourself. And if you do have to ask, the staff is kind and warm. They just don’t feel a need to hover or coddle.

This spell was only broken for me once, on New Year’s Eve at Solbam, the kind of tasting menu palace that knows every little detail is how it can go from one Michelin star to two. The food was pretty good and the service was charming, if a little forced at times. Between the third and fourth courses, the GM came up and very seriously said that if anything was wrong, to please tell him. He wanted to fix it immediately. I looked at him confused, apologetic. My nightmare is being a problem at restaurants. I gushed about how great everything had been. And then the issue became clear: we weren’t taking enough pictures and videos of the food like everyone else

An hour later, the sommelier wheeled over a sleek contraption, paused, and told me to please record a video. Then he opened it up to reveal a filet of steak in a miniature hanok.

At lunch the next day, I shared noodles and dumplings with a few friends. We ordered them via a kiosk at our table. A bit of an upscale Chili’s set up. We started talking about people who like food vs. people who like restaurants, and how Seoul had proven to be a good city for both. They mostly identified as people who like food, seeking out and remembering specific dishes, what they taste like, how they work, how they’re unique.

I don’t spend a lot of time describing actual food on here. Partially because I’m not nearly as good at it as someone like Bill Addison. But also because I’m turned off by seeing it done poorly, especially in shortform videos. I loved this piece from Jonathan Nunn at

Vittles

on food media completing its power shift from the traditional to accounts, “whose videos depict amazed British people pretending to eat Five Guys for the first time for the benefit of Americans – an act of treason that would, in happier times, see them sent to Tyburn.”

I watched a lot of these videos before going to Seoul. TikTok and Instagram proved to be the best place to find good spots, a new thing for me as more traditional lists and recs felt deficient. Consistently, I’d see the same kind of video with verbose, László Tóth level descriptions of dish construction. The texture, the spice, the plating. They’d often mention if rooms were good places to post from. And they’d all kind of blend together.

These videos aren’t bad, but they aren’t for me. They’re for people who like food, and like it in a specific way. The best. The most unique. The newest. The most photogenic and gooey and outrageous. That’s cool.

I like restaurants. Places like Anjumaeul and Wildduck. Institutions new and old, in dialogue with each other, that could only exist in that one spot. Places that provide good food, very good food, but wrap you up in something else. Something that makes you want to put your phone away and forget the world for a while.

We have to talk about the London Bagel Museum

I first discovered this place through an Eater list. They’re bagels. In Seoul. From London?

london.bagel.museum

A post shared by @london.bagel.museum

Here’s the Eater description, delivered without a wink or a nod from the inessential Semrush fodder that site has turned into:

Since its inception in 2021, London Bagel Museum (not actually a museum) has become famous for its diverse selection of freshly made bagels, including unique flavors like truffle or potato with cheese, accompanied by more than a dozen cream cheese spreads. The menu also highlights signature sandwiches, like a sesame bagel filled with ham and butter. With its whimsical British-inspired decor, featuring Union Jack garlands, royal portraits, and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, the London Bagel Museum is a favored gathering spot for locals and tourists, often drawing long lines at its four locations.

IDK. That’s a lot of words just to say something does well on TikTok. A Waymo driver assortment of words. Curious, I asked Claude, “What is the London Bagel Museum?” expecting a similar response. Instead, I got this:

Since you're asking about a very obscure institution (the London Bagel Museum), I should note that while I aim to be accurate, I may hallucinate details about such obscure topics.

I am not actually confident that a "London Bagel Museum" exists or has existed.

Claude, thank you.

Three London Bagel Museum locations take up the top four on Catchtable’s Hotspots With Longwaitlists. Hordes of reviews rave about only having to wait 90 minutes, in the cold, to enjoy … these.

These bagels tormented me all week. I’d pass by a packed location, make a joke about how absurd it all looked, and then, inevitably, pause.

I mean, what if I’m wrong? Do I need to find out?

I regularly wait 45 minutes for Courage Bagels in LA. Before trying hotties themselves, friends in Brooklyn found that insane. I couldn’t escape these bagels. Yet I couldn’t let myself kill precious time acquiring them. I just needed someone I trusted to weigh in.

On my last night in Seoul, I ended up at this expat bar in Haebangcheon. I chatted with the bartenders and dudes in Coachella hoodies about how they ended up living in Korea. Some of them clearly displayed good taste in restaurants. So, I had to ask.

What’s up with this London Bagel Museum thing?

Bro.

It’s crazy.

Wait. Are they good?

No. No. They’re fine.

It’s just one of those trendy things. People get their picture and they leave. You don’t need to go.

What’d you order?

Oh, I haven’t been.

Yeah. I’d never go.

Shit.

The most memorable meal in Seoul

One night, the Catchtable queue madness simply got the best of me and I had to make a late, last-minute pivot on dinner. Korea’s main reservation app has this ubiquitous feature that let’s you join remote waitlists and watch as your place in line bumps up. (While Resy does have this function, spots in the States use it sparingly). Stalled out with 20 teams in front of me for my desired location and 9pm quickly approaching, I dropped into a packed restaurant in Seochon with a good playlist going, nice lighting and tables full of happy diners.

Although I spent the week gladly running Google Translate on Korean menus and doing my thing, this place had a cook fluent in English who kept popping by to check in. I told her we’d just try her favorite things, working “chef” and “thank you” into every sentence, quietly in agony over pulling her away from the line. What came out of this 18-month-old kitchen can best be described as ambitious Korean kids eat at Jon & Vinny’s twice. Spicy fusilli but sub rice cakes. Arancini with sweet chili sauce. Potato pancakes as scalloped potatoes with a kind of tomato flavored dip.

It didn’t always work. At times it didn’t work at all. But I liked the experimentation, the ambition and the point of view. In New York, the space attempting this kind of thing quickly could be replaced by a fries and martinis joint or a private club or a Tacombi. Watching something successful enough but still in the process of being formed was cool.

Two more things

• Seoul city simply starts too late for me. Too well adjusted, maybe. Too comfortable experiencing the pre-noon hours at home. Too strong of a work-life balance. Whatever it is, I’m good. It was a minor nuisance waking up at 6am each morning to the reminder that most of the best coffee shops and bakeries don’t get rolling until 11:30. I like a good capitalist cafe that starts brewing by 7.

• I missed small plates. Sorry! I am actually fine with paying a premium to share smaller amounts of a bunch of things. It’s fun. I don’t need a restaurant to serve me bowls that feed a family of five. Especially at dinner. Even if it’s a deal, and even if I can bring it home … I am just terminally small-plates pilled.