Now I know that, while reading this, many of you people who have the ability to get offended by things may retch or get irate or whatever it is you people do. For that I am sorry. All I can say is that if you truly think about the actual contents of about 90% of the shit you pump into your body on a daily basis, eating Fido really isn’t all that bad comparatively.
My canine gastronomic experience started when Mike and I travelled into the Myeong-Dong area of Seoul on Saturday. We had seen in Lonely Planet that there was a Bosintang restaurant in the area and we have both been dying (mainly of curiosity) to try it since we got here. In addition to Mr. Kim, many people have told me that it is supposed to yield ‘potency’ and ‘vitality’ for men, which is congruent with the fact that it is really only elderly males who still eat the dish in Korea. (For the record, I’m pretty sure these claims imply the soup is supposed make your penis work better but I think the jury is still out on the science behind such a declaration).
The legal status of eating dog in Korea is uncertain, or at least it is to me. I have heard many conflicting reports on the actual laws surrounding the practice and at the very least it seems like those who still sell it are not too keen on advertising themselves much in public. Safe to say, the establishment we finally located to serve us the meal was not the swankiest of dining halls. Indeed, to be fully honest, I was a little bit nervous at first. The restaurant had a grungy exterior with a shady side-alley entrance that only had the 봇힌탕 (Bosintang) sign written in a small font above the door. If you weren’t looking for it you would never have found it, which I’m pretty sure is the point.
Just outside the restaurant Mike and I almost got cold feet but we eventually steeled ourselves and manned-up to the task. Inside, the restaurant was small and dingy, although the staff was quick and friendly which made us feel a little better about the whole experience. (Note: if some Igor-like creature had limped up to take our order I probably would have bolted out of there real fast). The stark, crucifix-adorned walls made me feel all-the-more ill at ease but my anxiety soon turned into excitement as the meal was served.
Bubbling hot and served in a typical Korean hotpot, here is the Bosintang in all its tender orange glory.
It wasn’t half bad, but I don’t think I’ll be waking up in the middle of the night jonesing for my next fix anytime soon. The meat was tender and extremely fatty. It had the texture of stewed beef brisket and a taste similar to such but with a slight smoky flavour that bore a vague resemblance to lamb. I’d have it again, but mostly for the novelty of introducing someone else to it. (On that note, there’s a big bowl of dog to be had for any of you more adventurous eaters who care to visit me over here). The soup itself was great but my cuts of meat were a little too fatty for me to go over the moon for it. Mike’s bowl was a little leaner, though, so perhaps it was just luck of the draw. (or should I say pick of the litter?)Aside from just the taste, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about consuming it ethically. As someone who unabashedly and unrepentantly eats veal, non-free range chicken, and the occasional meal at a big-name fast food chain or two, I’m aware that I’m probably being extremely hypocritical in my sentiment here. However, I still felt a little bad thinking about the abuse the poor animal possibly had to endure before his fatty, rubbery muscle met its final end by fuelling my existence for a few hours. Just like the fuzzy legal status of selling the meat, I am still unclear whether the horrific traditional ‘tenderisation’ process of dog meat still goes down on modern dog farms. Apparently, they used to beat the living shit out of the dog while it was still alive to tenderise the meat, but I have heard that this barbaric practice has long since stopped being practiced. Since I cannot find any conclusive evidence either way, though, I cannot be entirely sure Rex didn’t take a cruel thrashing before landing on my chopsticks, but I sure hope he didn’t. Again, if this situation seems horrible and cruel to anyone, then put down your condescending finger for a second and do a little bit of research. Before judging me or a 5000 year old cultural culinary tradition, it is important to find out the skinny on all the twisted processes your meat goes through before it gets onto your plate. You might be unpleasantly surprised.
All told, it was definitely a novel eating experience. For better or worse the practice of eating well-prepared dog meat is alive and well in this country and I can safely say that this is the first meal I’ve ever enjoyed that left my stomach growling only after I’d finished eating. (Sorry, but the puns were impossible to resist).
Comments of both outrage and awed reverance are encouraged.
