Going to a fish market is like having the evidence that your food is keeping it real. You've seen it squirming and slithering in the water, and can be sure that it's not made of some starch and veggie oil that imitation meat is made of these days. Eww.
Growing up in Asia, I've been spoilt with some of the freshest seafood, and I'm a real snob about it. The idea of "fresh" is much different in the East. Most restaurants, even the everyday non-special-occasion ones, had tanks which lined the side of the restaurant, and patrons would pick out the specific fish or shellfish that they wanted to restaurant to prepare. Fresh is not just freshly butchered; it means swimming and alive.
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| Here's a great live example of an octopus running away |
So back to Jagalchi -
A fish market gets it's credence from three things, location, patron attitude and... odor! If you think about the World's greatest fish markets,Tsukiji, Fulton Fish Market, or La Boqueria, they all fall within walking distance to the water, where the fish boats come in. This is the case with Jagalchi, which is right by the Busan port.
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| Red boots drying out with the fish |
If you have some misconception about how local culture supersedes fish market culture, now's the time to forget about it. When it comes to fish markets, people all around the world behave the same way, with pushing, shoving, shouting, and no respect for personal space. It's like some base instinct that awakens the moment that fresh fish smell wafts up your nose.
Which brings us to the smell - well, need I say more? Since it's spring, the weather is still slightly cooler, but I can imagine that in the summer months, even the freshest fish today is rotting tomorrow, and quickly in the heat!
The fish mongers themselves are generally older Korean ladies, who despite the rough and gunky job, always come into work with bright pink lipstick and makeup! You see them stripping the skin of eel, gutting monkfish liver (ankimo is a delicacy) for display, or just filleting fish for the regular folks who are too squeamish to do it themselves.
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| Gutting Monkfish |
Their weathered faces reminds me that this could be a dying culture, as not many of the younger generation find careers like this appealing, and would much rather have comfortable jobs in offices or retail shops, and who can blame them?
Here's an awesome picture of a fishmonger hanging sting rays out to dry on the roof. Check out the tall office buildings signifying a totally different world behind her.
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The fish is sold to both retailers and wholesalers, freshly slaughtered (most fish), slithering in their buckets of water (other seafood like shellfish, octopus, calamari, etc), or cured by drying, salting or other korean methods. A great example of unique preservation - live blue crab soaked in soy sauce, chili and pepper, left to drown in the saltiness. Never tried it, but I bet it taste awesome.
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| Soy Preserved Blue Crab |
Some of the "weirder" creatures include sting rays, shark, octopus of many sizes, some kind of sea squirt which resembles a sea cucumber, a sea slug that looks like a giant fatty worm with no eyes and a long nose/mouth, sea urchins (weird to some), and ugly monkfish (for those that have never seen a monkfish).
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| Big Octopus | Baby Octopus |
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| Can someone tell me what this is? | I'm not sure that this is sea cucumber |
You don't visit a fish market until you've eaten there, so after we trapaised around for about two hours taking pictures and annoying the fish mongers since we refused to buy anything, we finished our Jagalchi tour with lunch at a restaurant where you can pick your own fish. I think we were a little confused, as we were supposed to only pick one item, but ended up picking about 5 things too many.
I must say that this probably qualifies as my weirdest meal, as three of our selected items arrived on our plates still moving. No kidding. I had picked out a baby octopus about the size of my hand, thinking that I would get this barbecued. Yeah. The octopus arrived on my plate chopped up, and still moving, it's suckers clinging tightly to the plate so that we had to pull very hard with our chopsticks to get it into our mouths, and even then, it would cling to our silver chopsticks, as if very explicitly fighting to not be eaten, even if chopped up. Here's a video:
Among the other still moving things - Abalone and Eel. The abalone was also sashimi style, sliced very thin, so that it was crunchy.
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The end bits were still wriggling, but no where as cruel as when I watched our abalone slowly die on the grill in Japan before promptly spreading butter on it. The eel arrived all chopped up, and tossed in a kimchee dressing on a plate, the eel segments writhing and dancing around, looking like miniature human toes without the nails. Actually, it really was as gross as it sounds. Fortunately, this was wrapped up in foil and then toasted on an electric stove before being consumed. I'm not sure if I would be able to chew on something so thick if it was still moving.
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| Uncooked eel segments |
I suppose after the above, the rest don't sound half as interesting, but I'll tell you about it anyway. We also ordered two small striped fish, sashimi style, and three sea urchins (for $8 total), which was so fresh tasting, if you didn't like uni, you'd like it then.
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Along with our banchan side dishes, the service included a hot plate of sizzling octopus and shrimp, a grilled pike mackerel (very very fresh), and also fried tempura.
They say that food can really change your life, and I'm putting it on the table. This was definitely a meal that will change mine. Here's to moving parts and being adventurous, but it's not for the faint hearted - no.
Next on the itinerary: From Busan to Jeju, the Island of Abalone porridge and Black pig
