spin_kick_snap (
spin_kick_snap) wrote2018-02-21 05:00 am
Masitda Restaurant, Baltimore, Wednesday Evening
To tell the truth and shame the devil--a saying Kathy's mom had adored when she was alive--when Dante had suggested that they go out for Korean food, Kathy hadn't expected much. Dante didn't speak the language, didn't know the culture, and his only real introduction to the cuisine was what Kathy cooked at home and the hundred of weird bottle and jars of seasoning she kept in the door of the fridge, next to the more normal bottles of mayo and ketchup and relish. It wasn't that she was expecting it to be bad or anything, but she'd figured something middle-of-the-road, declaring its authenticity by blaring k-pop from the mid-2000s with two kinds of kimchi at most and a couple of sushi offerings to round out the 'Asianness' of the menu. All of which would have been perfectly fine and Kathy would have gone home, full and happy, and not given it another thought.
She realized she was wrong the moment they stepped into the restaurant. It smelled like home, evoking a sense of nostalgia and homesickness so sharp she rocked backwards on her heels for a moment. The table next to them had seven different banchan bowls on one side of it and over the shoulder of another patron, she could spot a menu page devoted entirely to different kinds of kimchi, several of which had seasonal warnings next to them. Apparently this place thought it wouldn't do to serve Yeolmu-kimchi in the middle of winter and you know what? They were goddamn right.
Kathy reached for Dante's hand, squeezing it tightly, letting her grip speak louder than she could right then about how pleased she was with his choice of restaurant for the evening.
[Not for broadcast and for that guy she's with!]
She realized she was wrong the moment they stepped into the restaurant. It smelled like home, evoking a sense of nostalgia and homesickness so sharp she rocked backwards on her heels for a moment. The table next to them had seven different banchan bowls on one side of it and over the shoulder of another patron, she could spot a menu page devoted entirely to different kinds of kimchi, several of which had seasonal warnings next to them. Apparently this place thought it wouldn't do to serve Yeolmu-kimchi in the middle of winter and you know what? They were goddamn right.
Kathy reached for Dante's hand, squeezing it tightly, letting her grip speak louder than she could right then about how pleased she was with his choice of restaurant for the evening.
[Not for broadcast and for that guy she's with!]
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...Though it was probably in the jjimjilbong's best interest to kick people out before it got very far.
"Does this mean you're going to behave?" Kathy murmured in an undertone as they reached the stand. "A table for two," she added in a regular tone to the hostess, who smiled and gestured for them to a follow. As they passed, Kathy automatically gave the older woman behind the register a small bow and a murmured, "Ajumma," not missing a single step. The old woman gave her a brief nod, a small smile on her face.
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Memories were treacherous. Feelings and impressions were much safer.
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He sank into it, sprawling a bit.
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Coming here reminded her of her childhood. But it wasn't home anymore.
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"Bulgogi, definitely," Kathy said. "I mean, it's seasoned beef. Impossible to go wrong. And galbi--those are ribs, you can choose pork or beef. Oooh and I like the sides they're listing with the samgyeopsal. That's pork belly, which is what bacon wants to be when it grows up."
She was getting hungry just thinking about these. And, for once, that hunger wasn't tainted by nausea, even though it was centered around meat.
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He winked at Kathy. "Warming up to Korean food more than I already was."
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