Sul Long Tang Revisited

I haven't yet decided if this is going to become a weekly ritual, but I'm back at Sun Nong Dan for their breakfast special. Today I'm going with the Do Ga Ni Tang. Same milky-white broth, but with noodles and ox-knees. We're talking sizable chunks of tendon and all things gelatinous. I love the range of textures;  it can be cooked so that it dissolves on the tongue, it can be spongy,  it can be chewy, almost like an al dente pasta. It occurs to me that tendon covers the range of textures of  many western comfort foods: macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, yet many westerners find the idea of eating tendon just too odd for them. To each their own.

I consider the container of ground black pepper among the condiments. I normally use kimchi juice to spice up my soup but today I add a heaping spoonful of that pepper into my bowl, with only soup spoon full of kimchi juice, and I notice an appreciable depth to the sense of spiciness. It's a lot like the kind of sound you get from a nine foot grand piano.

The soup has come to the table still simmering in the bowl. As I retrieve bits of meat and tendon from my bowl and leave them in the small bowl of dipping sauce, it occurs to me that the dipping sauce is as much about cooling down the meat as it is a flavoring agent. Either way, I'm grateful.

There's been a general murmur of sorts from the other patrons that I've blocked out, but I suddenly note that I'm hearing the Mandarin dialect of Chinese being spoken. OK, I'm in the SGV; the Chinese demographic is being targeted by the new Japanese/Korean restaurants. I take a quick look around trying to identify the speakers, and I'm in for a surprise; the people speaking Mandarin are the staff - and they're speaking among themselves. As the person who's been waiting on my table passes by, I wave her down and I mention that I notice that she's been speaking in Mandarin. She seems surprised that I'm able to identify the Mandarin dialect and asks me if I speak Mandarin. After I tell her yes, she explains that the owners want the staff to be able to speak Mandarin since they get so many Chinese customers. This serves to support my supposition that the Chinese demographic *is* being targeted.

The black pepper that I added has settled at the bottom of bowl and that amount has not changed while the volume of soup is now less than half of the original, and the soup is now noticeably spicier, and I find myself perspiring quite freely and I ask the waitress for a few extra napkins. I choose to forego the remainder of the bowl and I ask for the check. I'm done in only forty five minutes today. But it's all good even though today is noticeably overcast compared to the week before.

Sul Long Tang

One of the things I love about living in Los Angeles is the level of cultural & ethnic diversity, particularly when it comes to food. I happen to live in the San Gabriel Valley, known for being home to what is arguably the most diverse selection of authentic regional Chinese cuisines outside of China. If you want good authentic Chinese cuisine, you drive to the SGV. Similarly, if you want good authentic Korean food, you typically drive to Koreatown (or to a small enclave in Orange County). That's changing for residents of the SGV, as both new Japanese and Korean restaurants have been moving/expanding into the SGV. And that's a good thing. Case in point, Sun Nong Dan opened two branches in the SGV. The mother ship in K-town is known for the Galbi Jim (rib stew) but also for their Sul Long Tang (ox bone soup). And they offer a $6.99 breakfast special from 7-10:30am every morning.

Sul Long Tang is comfort food; broth, milky white from hours of simmering ox/beef bones. It's a deceptively yet still deeply personal experience; each person seasons their bowl to taste, adding sea salt, scallions, pepper, and in some cases, kimchi. I place my order and am served rice, 2 types of kimchi and a dipping sauce flavored with slices of jalapeno and white onion. I have been told by a Korean friend that the dipping sauce is for the meat in the soup.

I might be the only person eating alone, prompting the waitress to seat me at a table while everyone else gets seated in one of the booths, but I submit that the lack of distraction allows me to enjoy my meal more fully than the rest. It's not a quiet place, but I'm able to shut that out and nibble on my kimchi and little bits of rice while I wait for my bowl of soup.








When my soup arrives, I slowly add salt from the bowl on the table, stirring and tasting until I find the balance that suits me. Ditto for the minced green onion also to be found in a bowl on the table. I eschew the ground black pepper for a few slices of the cabbage kimchi. I also slowly kimchi liquid to my soup until I reach my personal equilibrium of flavors. The slightly tangy, slightly sweet, slightly spicy sauce provides a nice foil to the soup, kimchi and rice. The rice; you are given a choice of white or brown (purple) rice, but asking for white rice would be like ordering your pastrami on a croissant - it might actually be good, but you just don't. The slightly nuttiness/sweetness of the brown rice adds more notes and overtones.  And because I am alone, I can devote my full attention to the symphony of flavors and textures. It's almost a surprise to discover that almost an hour has passed before I begin to contemplate the bottom of my bowl.

The colors outside look a little brighter and I feel more assured that today is going to be a good day. I am grateful that Sun Nong Dan has moved to the SGV.