After my first time here, I longed for an occasion to go back. When my Korean food aficionado/withering Yelper friend visited New York this past weekend, it was a foregone conclusion that I would bring him to Mapo, come hell or high water.
There's no doubt that the fact that ***YELP'S INCORRECT MAP*** trapped us into walking over a mile (no exaggeration, and no cabs in sight) in Saturday's wind and rain from the 7's dreadful Flushing-Main Street stop contributed to the negativity of the overall experience. But it's the contrast of the food and service with my last visit that leads me to temper my original evaluation with an update.
I even recognized some of the ladies who sat us down, which makes it even weirder that everything went wrong. They were nice enough, especially since I was scrutinizing them for any hint of the "oh, it's an Asian girl with a white man, and therefore we can pass judgement" attitude.
I was surprised anew when they informed us that we had to buy TWO meat orders ($25-$30 each) in order to get the real coal at our table. I was also re-shocked when they said that certain cuts of pork couldn't be ordered with beef because the pork fat would cause an inferno over coals. Humbly, I remembered that these were not arbitrations, but rules I'd learned the last time.
But then, the side dishes came out in strange intervals with no rhyme or reason. A short-ended (in my opinion) slab of raw, cold beef preceded half the items, and faced off with us while we chewed on raw garlic cloves, vinegared onions, five different types of similar tasting kimchee, and lettuce. Finally, I if rice was included just as the hot coals were placed in the center of the table.
"Yes, of course. Why, did you want it now?" The woman asked in Korean. It's like no, I want it next year...Jesus. The thought on my mind at the moment was just that I had wanted to know if it would arrive eventually.
A woman came up and diligently cut both meats into tiny bite-sized bits, which I appreciated. Both preferring our meat rarer than not, we quickly rescued them from the astounding heat of the coals. Another woman came to sweep them back into the center, and I had to explain to her that it had been no accident that we'd neatly taken all the meat off the heat.
At this point, my friend really sacked up and asked in perfectly comprehensible KOREAN whether he could please have a glass of water. "EH?" The woman shouted, but not in an intentionally mean way. When she realized what he'd said, she cackled, and said "Why yesss, yesssss, I will get you some niiiice, cooool, water," in Korean while my face probably turned purple for my friend's sake.
at this point, I asked when we were going to get our denjang jjigeh. She said, "Well, of course, if you would like jjigae, then we will add it as a service." Service my pale white ass - it is a part of the meal!
Foodwise:
*Meat was great quality, but the marinade was sweeter than I remembered, rendering the prime grade stuff cheaper than it really is. The proportions were smaller, too; maybe they adjusted it because there were only two of us, but we both happened to want to bust a gut.
*Gerran jjim (egg casserole) was suitably hot, but a bit on the salty side.
*The baked corn was again a highlight of the ensemble.
*Jiggae was watery; more like miso soup with some zucchini and onion falling apart in it. Still a relief from the rainy weather, though.
After I flagged them down to remind them that we were ACHING to pay them, we got some orange slices and a bill, which I told them to split 50/50 on our cards. More like 100/100, because they charged us twice, and the wrong amount at that. So then I had to get REALLY native and go up to the table and get a cash settlement after which I did not leave any tip.
It's clear to me now that this place has very on and very off days, but it's hard to want to roll the dice when it's in bumfuck Queens, confirmed as accessible only by the LIRR (unless you prefer to walk over a mile each way from the 7).
Maybe I should get over my aversion to Manhattan's Koreatown and see what's there after all. It can't be more unpredictable than Mapo, and I can't take risks anymore when I'm trying to feed my best friends. read more