Bibim-Oops

My friend, who is Japanese, and I have made a habit of going out for Korean food every couple of weeks. Having spent some time in Korea a few (ahem, ten) years ago, and seeing that the culture worship certainly goes in the other direction, I appreciate her love of Korea and Korean food. This week, we ducked into Bibim Bar in the EV, a cute back-room joint hidden behind a glassed-in ramen noodle shop. We were pleased to find a variety of bibimbaps on the menu including chicken, pork, and bulgogi options. The hot stone bowl wasn't bad - if a little too hot, which meant that it kept cooking its insides well into the meal. (A good crust on the bottom of the rice is nice, but too much is just crusty.) Then, just as we tucked into it, the health inspector showed up to slap a bright yellow notice on the front door. I quickly checked my bowl for signs of entomological life. None. Who knows, the infraction could have had to do with a lack of hair nets. Still, unsettling. We finished our bibimbaps and every ounce of the accompanying kimchi and cold (pink!) radish soup, downed our OB Lager, and rose to leave, bidding our 12-year-old-looking waitress a good night. Bibim Bar's doors closed behind us, and maybe for good. Oh well. We'll always have Tuesday.