September 15, 2008 |
TO HEAR Simon Shin talk, you'd think he opened his new Korean barbecue restaurant Shin in Hollywood just to keep his hungry pals happy. "I really want to have my friends eat good food," says the affable Shin, explaining how as a Korean kid growing up in Los Angeles he was lucky enough to fall in with a tightknit group of people, some of whom, such as actor Danny Masterson, ended up being successful in TV and film. (Shin's parents are in the restaurant business and own several popular Koreatown spots.
September 3, 2008 |
WALK into E-Hwa Jang, a restaurant in the heart of Koreatown, and you are transported to another place. It isn't just the old-school menu, the kitschy '70s-style decor or the hostess in colorful traditional dress. The space doubles as a museum-cum-shrine dedicated to Syngman Rhee, South Korea's first president, who held office from 1948 to 1960. Faded news clips adorn the walls, stacks of booklets praise Rhee's achievements, and there's a larger-than-life portrait of the man himself.
August 11, 2008 |
Culver City continues to bust out in new restaurants, so much so that on a weekend night it can be tough to find a spot in one of the city's (free) parking structures. And so valet stations are popping up. Now there's one on Culver Boulevard in front of two side-by-side new restaurants -- Rush Street (casual Chicago-inspired eats with two bars) and Gyenari (a Korean barbecue restaurant with potential crossover appeal).
June 2, 2007 |
The way Son Hye Suk sees it, having nuclear weapons means more than security for this Stalinist state. It means North Koreans will have more food on their plates. "Our nuclear weapons are a source of great pride in our country, and if anyone insults us now they won't survive," said Son, an ideologically vetted worker at the International Friendship Museum north of the capital.
June 21, 2006 |
THE confection-filled bakery case sparkles in the combined light from a crystal chandelier and sunshine slanting through a graceful two-story bank of windows. Inside the case, cakes sit coquettishly in a row: a tall green tea chiffon cake, its whipped cream frosting tamed into sculptural swoops, or a dome-shaped strawberry cake, fresh berries peeking through the frosting to give an effect of a meadow under snow.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
September 17, 2001 |
To any Korean worth his salt, life without kimchi--the spicy pickled vegetables that appear at every Korean meal--is unthinkable. "Like marriage without sex," says Tong S. Suhr, a Los Angeles attorney and Koreatown gourmet whose love affair with kimchi spans more than six decades. "You just have to have it." Kimchi, unique to the Korean peninsula, has been around for centuries.