Sydney Madang

 













Tonight I went solo to one of my all-time favourite places to eat in Sydney. 

Meals from Madang are extremely high on my nostalgic cravings list when I'm somewhere else, and there was not a trace of disappointment in this evening's experience.


Sydney Madang is an institution among Korean food fans.  In a week or so I will feature a more thorough exposition of the menu and the restaurant itself, which is from one perspective best enjoyed in a sizey group, but tonight I want to talk about the other way to bathe in the heavenly food aura which surrounds Madang.  This is best done alone, in order to minimise the potential for distracting conversation, and to capitalise on your portions of banchan (which merit a blog entry in themselves and accompany every korean restaurant meal worth eating).

 So you walk down the little alley off Pitt Street, you take your raffle ticket and wait until they call your number.  You take your seat and press the call button when you're ready to order (why exactly hasn't this system been adopted by non-korean restaurants??), and you order the perfect one-man meal, also known as a dolsot bibimbap with pork, and a beer (I like CASS: the Sound of Vitality).

Very soon your table is laden with a delicious assortment of cold dishes in mini portions (banchan). For those unaccustomed to korean dining, these babies are not on the menu, rather they arrive at the beginning of every meal regardless of what you order. Clockwise, I had:
 - what I think you would call a type of namul; in this case a lightly cooked green vegetable seasoned with sesame and pepper sauce dressing;
 - dressed, crunchy soybean sprouts with slivers of other vegetables (carrots, radish) and tiny green leaves;
 - lettuce with slivers of red capsicum topped with minced apple.  Sweet and fresh!
 - Miso soup
 - Madang-style potato salad.  Simple and nicely sweet.
 - Kimchi. I think we all know what this is by now.

All delicious, all free (with refills if desired), and in my experience quite a number of different banchan are constantly rotated on and off, so you get to try something different each time you come in.  Could this be better?

Ok, now the star of the show arrives.  By this point I am not only excited with anticipation and overwhelmed at the quality of the banchan, but my mood level has gone up at least 5 points since I arrived.  There is such a good energy in this place and the staff seem to have found the perfect balance of efficient professionalism and fun - these guys love serving good food and they know how to have a good time!  I am also loving the fact that the hostess remembered me, and my regular order, after a year's absence and is offering to top up my banchan with even more than the usual enthusiasm. Great. So here is my bibimbap.

You can actually HEAR it coming before it arrives. The mound of white rice which makes up the base of your meal, you see, is sizzling away in the very hot stone bowl (dolsot), whose inside is lightly brushed with sesame oil for flavour and lubrication.  If handled correctly, in time this process will form a deliciously crunchy surprise for you to enjoy at the end of your meal.  The rice is topped with all kinds of lovely things, and on the table you also find a little pot of dark red sauce.  The idea is to liberally add this sauce and mix everything around, thereby finishing your very own meal.  ('Bibimbap' = 'mixed rice')

Before even getting it into your mouth you should be able to appreciate two of the serious appeal points of this meal.  First, as it also involves audio and potentially (although hopefully not as some painful burns could be sustained) tactile experiences; it is multi-sensory.  This is the interdisciplinary of the dining world; who doesn't love it?  Next, it is a participatory dish.  The customer's input is essential at the finishing stage.  I suppose the same is true of all dishes, but here the participation has really reached a more ritualised and enjoyable level.  Never fear however; if you are inexperienced or unsure (or even sometimes if you hesitate too long), don't doubt that one of the staff is going to jump straight in and show you how it's done.  It's about learning and knowing how to get the most from your bowl, and these guys love to teach!

But back to the details.  The vegetables on top of my rice tonight are: julienne carrots and daikon, sliced zucchini and shiitake mushrooms, fresh soybean sprouts and cooked spinach (either english or baby - this must be clarified).  Then sits in the middle of the mountain, as ordered, a small scattering of cooked pork, a raw egg yolk and some shreds of dried seaweed.  All that remains is to add some of the gochujang (red pepper sauce - I like to use about 3 or 4 times what is already there in the photo) and give everything a little waltz around the bowl.  Opinions differ on how much sauce to add and how thoroughly things should be mixed, and I think this is really a matter of personal taste.  I would recommend, however, as I hinted at the beginning, that after the initial mixing, you leave the rice at the bottom of the bowl alone for some time, possibly the remainder of the meal.  the objective here is to let it form a wonderful flavourful crust to crunch on towards the end.  Think of this as maximising the textural palette of the dish. 

Thank you Sydney Madang.  This meal has been so much more than rice and vegetables.  This has been welcome home, this has been the restoration of my confidence in my recollection of sydney food, this has been my first real blog post and this has just been a fun, fuzzy experience.  We're off to a good start!