There is one other dish I enjoyed very much, which is the deceptively simple fried bean vermicelli that Jo says is a Korean court dish. The translucent noodles were very well flavored and it is a refreshing palate pleaser for those inclined to less meat in the diet.

There are two other classics that Yun Hai does well. At least, they brought back memories of shopping breaks at Namdaemun, and the little eateries of Seoul.

I am not fond of raw spring onions, but the whole strips of shallot greens that lined the beautiful golden pancakes were surprisingly tender and sweet, and the little bites of chopped-up squid tentacles was a tactile contrast with the soft, eggy batter.

The other dish is bibimbap, the only Korean staple dish I can both pronounce and spell without going to the dictionary.

Jo was on hand to mix up the stone-pot rice properly. The secret is a light hand so you do not squash the vegetables, but softly fold them into the hot rice. And, I noticed, he avoided scraping the bottom of the bowl.

We understood why when, on second helpings, we found the residual heat had crisped the rice at the bottom into nice crunchy crusts.

Eating is as much about sharing culture as filling hunger, and when you choose to eat a cuisine from another country, it is to experience a difference in lifestyle.

Color, taste, texture and in a certain sense, ritual, are what make Korean food special. And at Yun Hai, the tradition is indeed carefully guarded by a culinary ambassador.

 

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