Words by David Volodzko

There are three things you should know about soju: your options, your manners, and your limit.

Soju (소주, literally “burnt liquor”) isn’t what you think it is. The history of the drink we have today might surprise you. To start, it’s worth noting that the favorite poison of one of the world’s strongest drinking cultures originally comes from a country where alcohol is now illegal: Iran. Soju’s past is like a Park Chan-wook film – fraught with violence.
Mongolian hordes swept through the Taklimakan Desert and across Persia, leaving horror and ash in their wake and returning home with something known as aragh-e sagi, or “dog sweat.” A kind of raisin brandy, its potency was no doubt enjoyed by Genghis Khan’s warriors, and, though the recipe was tweaked over time, “dog sweat” never lost its edge.
The arid plains beyond the Gobi are no place for a vineyard, but the Mongolians had an abundance of something else: horses. Thus fermented raisins gave way to fermented mare’s milk, though to this day Mongolians still call the stiff brew “airag,” reflecting its distant origins. It was from this that Korea’s national drink evolved. In fact, before it was “soju” people knew it as “arakju” (아락주), and you can still get fermented horse’s milk in Korea today (now under the name “mayuju,” or 마유주).
At first, soju wasn’t so different from Japanese sake. Rice was abundant in both areas and the distilled product was far tastier than other options, but then as now the process wasn’t cheap and it was therefore enjoyed mainly by the ruling elite or sold as an expensive medicine.
Its long-standing place in Korea’s consciousness as a kind of medicine, as well as the historical absence of certain religions that have been known to demonize drunkenness, might account for Korea’s open-minded attitude towards binge drinking, something many folks living here have praised. That, and its unbeatable price. Of course, “proper” soju distilled from rice, the stuff of connoisseurs, costs considerably more. The cheap stuff didn’t debut until the sixties.
This second stage of its evolution was also the result of bloodshed. With the economic trouble following the Korean War, Park Cheong-hee’s industrialization policy in 1965 (산업화) prompted the Third Republic to prohibit the use of rice in the production of alcohol. This resulted in the decision to switch to using sweet potatoes and tapioca instead. The incredibly powerful result is then diluted with water and flavored so as to taste less like kerosene.
In 1999, apparently the coast finally looked clear, because—hallelujah!—the ban on using rice was lifted. This was followed by the arrival of several old-style soju brands: i.e. distilled, not diluted. However, by then soju had already come to represent an efficient (that is, strong and cheap) means of getting drunk. While some of the classics still hang on and are worth hunting down a taste for lighter, fresher and sweeter soju has evolved. But whatever you fancy you can likely find it in your local grocery bottled in the same shade of green glass that Perrier uses to conjure up images of plush groves and mossy streams. Here’s to “dog sweat”—Wihayeo 위하여!

The Proper Way to Get Drunk

Now that you’ve chosen your bottle and ordered your anju (bar snacks), don’t forget your etiquette.
•    Never drink soju alone. It’s a social lubricant. To paraphrase a Korean proverb: “after one bottle you’re a drunken stranger, after two you’re a drunken guest, but after three you’re a fellow drunk.”
•    If it’s a Cheoeum Cheoreom (see next page), then give the bottle a good swirl before cracking the cap. The goal here is create a little tornado in the bottle that’s believed to soften the taste (whether this actually works is dubious to say the least—but hey, it’s fun).

Read the rest of this article at 10Mag.com

KAs@Work is a new series that profiles Korean Americans and their jobs. Want to share what you do, or know of people with interesting jobs? Get in touch.

More often than not, we all get that hankering for some good ice cream during the summer season. We’ve tried Baskin Robins and Ben and Jerry’s, but where can you find some good brown rice green tea ice cream?

There’s a small ice cream parlor called Scoops on Heliotrope in Los Angeles that brews up a wonderland of ice cream every morning. Tai Kim is the mastermind behind the unique ice cream with funky flavors people can’t seem to get enough of. Korean Beacon got a chance to talk to Tai about what makes his ice cream so spectacular.

What is it that do you do?

Well, I’m the owner of an ice cream parlor. Everyday I review the sales from the day before as well as customer suggestions for flavors and I make the ice cream and start preparing for the next day. I try to educate people through ice cream because there are so many flavors that a lot of people hesitate to try or find way too expensive. To me, ice cream is the perfect way to approach people and teach them about the flavors.

When and how did you start-up Scoops?

You know, I studied at Cal Arts and was in the art department, so you can do pretty much anything you want in the name of art. I started as a painter and then I tried to do something different, so I started doing a kitchen project. I started selling food and the project turned out to be a way to get people educated in certain issues like Korean-American identity and other special issues, which led me to think that food might be an appropriate new medium.

I converted the project into a Korean restaurant/karaoke bar and noticed that when people get together and karaoke, everyone has a good time. So that became what I was really interested in. At the time, I had no culinary training, so I decided to get more skills and go to a culinary school. After teaching at Western culinary, I quit in 2003 and decided ice cream was what I wanted to do. When opening the store, I was kind of on my own and went through it not knowing anything.

Where do you find the inspiration for some of your flavors?

Customers suggest flavors, and sometimes it’s something that pops into my mind. I get an idea at night and the next day I make them. Some take a few days—like tea flavors take a couple days to infuse and make. The Korean flavors come from my background and some of the foods I make. I’ve done Makkoli (Korean rice wine), I tried kimchi, but it didn’t sell too well. Neither did red bean, but Nuromji (roasted rice) was pretty popular.

Any favorite flavors?

Lately, salty chocolate. I’ve found salty goes really well with things like vanilla but people go like ‘What? Salt?’ because they expect a sweet treat, but when they see ‘salt’ they pause. South Eastern flavors also because not many people know about those flavors especially when it come to all the different tropical fruits. People still don’t know what durian, jack fruit, or lychee is.

What’s in the future for you?

Lots of people ask about expansion, but I have a limited capacity so I’m not able to expand. Id like to do at least a little bit more because people say they have to drive from far, far away. To me, less is better than more though.

Scoops
712 N Heliotrope Dr
Los Angeles, CA 90029

[Photos: Audrey Yun-Suong]

Here are some more pics from May’s HBC Fest, this time I’m keeping all things musical this time and focusing purely on the live acts. I have a few more pictures of the crowd’s antics to post but I’m going to give the people who make the Fest worth going to some credit – in fairness it wouldn’t be much of a music festival without much music, right?

These photos are going to start from the beginning, around 1 or 2 in the afternoon. I didn’t get to see everyone, but everyone I did see did get a photo included. I decided to go with a slideshow this time.

Enjoy!

By-the-by, let me know what you think of how this was presented – did the slideshow work? I have other options for displaying photos that I’m currently exploring. I want to avoid the big long post of photos I’ve been doing in the past.

If you’d like me to send you some photos, please contact me.