Kobawoo

Korean Americans seem to be one of the gentlest communities around, quietly raising their families, teaching Sunday school on the weekends and, more or less, not raising holy hell. But get them in the kitchen and they’re ready for a fight. Case in point: Korea town’s Kobawoo. You would think this place doubles as a boxing gym from the way I felt sucker-punched by their bossun. This meal is a celebration of pork, spice, garlic, salt, and more spice. There is no crime in a side of kimchi, a power kick side of cabbage fermented in chili and garlic enjoyed by millions of Koreans and Mexicans alike. But when Kobawoo serves it with a side of garlic broccoli, garlic pork, garlic chiles spiced with jalapenos, well, that’s playing dirty. While I sit contemplating the plates of fire they set before me, they plop a tofu soup thing that’s a flavor bomb of mushrooms, scallions, and more garlic. At this point in the meal, I am sweating like George Foreman in his bout with Holyfield. I look self-consciously around the room, slightly hoping for a white flag. The server returns with one in the form of slices of pork and bok choy. It’s cool, good, and it’s a break, and, with the little bowl of rice, it kept my thermostat from blowing out. But there was a side dish next to the bok choy that looked like a tangle of Medusa’s hair and tasted like a simmering pile of anger. These mild-mannered Koreans are great hosts but they will kick you when you’re down.