Gurgita-

Now, for those who do not know, there are few things I love more than a pile o' meat. That sounds anarchical, a protein free-for-all, but it is NOT, dear reader. There are Rules. I am about to impart to you, Internet, the illustrated guide for Optimal Meat Pile Eating. This is a collaborative work, second-author credit (and last author credit) going to Greg, who has been honing his meatery skills in my absence.

 Here's what you start with: lettuce, ssamjang, garlic, all the usual condiment suspects.


I bet you thought I was super excited about the gochujang, but gochujang is but a pale shadow of the wonderment that is ssamjang. Ssamjang is the spicy delight of gochujang married to GARLIC. Maybe tomatoes? I don't know. It is a joy of tasty science and I desire it always.

Here is our noble guide, Greg. 




A fire smolders behind his deceptively calm eyes; the fire of his calling and dedication to share the joys of barbecue with the uninitiated. Possibly also the fire of impatience that I have taken leave of my senses by having him Vanna White this up instead of letting him get to work. That kimchi isn't going to fry itself in delicious pork fat.

The correct way to start off is with a beer (in this case, Dry Finish by... Cass? Hite? One of those two). It is important that the beer be only marginally different from water. Don't want all that... beer beering up your tongue when it needs to be all a-tingle with meaty ssamjang delectability. Also, you need rice. That's a given.

 This is the beginning of wisdom. Also joy. Samgyeupsal! This is the part of the pig that could be treated and cured and such to become bacon, in other, less enlightened parts of the world. Yes, I just said that BACON was LESS ENLIGHTENED. If you haven't had samgyeupsal Korean barbecue, you can't know yet how right I am. If you have, you are probably nodding. If you have had this and are disagreeing, you are NO FRIEND OF MINE, SIR/MADAM.

 What you see here is something of which Greg convinced me, because he's a clever dude: kimchi, while perhaps not the winningest food in my personal food arsenal, gains degrees of wonder when fried in porkfat. 

See the little dish of red ssamjang? See how it's a lot more than it was in the first picture of it? This place Greg advised knows what's up: they have a buffet for all the things that aren't meat, including ssamjang! I'm pretty sure I want to live there.

Here we are in progress. Rashers chopped in nice little Hasslebacked rows, rendering beautifully all over that kimchi business.

Aha! Now we are getting somewhere... when the time for serving is at hand, someone comes by and cuts up all the meat and stirs it around and so on. Greg and I both prefer better-done bits, so we had to be extra patient.

Okay, so here we are, meat cooked, lettuce at the ready. Step 1: lettuce at the ready. Hold the lettuce leaf in your non-dominant hand, spread open to move to step two.

Apply meat to this lettuce leaf, selected from the bite-sized pieces on the grill.















I like three or four pieces, myself, but it depends on the size of the lettuce leaf and your enthusiasm. 



Look at that sexy crispy bit!

 Now, perhaps the most invigorating moment: slathering that sucker with ssamjang!
















Throw some onions on there, and grilled garlic bits if you got 'em. Also, kimchi, y'know, if you're into that.








 

This picture is here to make sure you are paying attention. THIS IS SRS BUSINESS. (Too serious for vowels). 

The last step, vital to the rightness of your execution, is to take your leaf-package, wrap that bad boy up, and shove the ENTIRE thing into your mouth at once.*

Celebrate your victory over that menacing pile o' pork with a tasty beverage at a local establishment with good music.








 


Chibi Batman approves. Your work here is done.














*This is not debatable. The tiny Korean girl at the next table will sneer pityingly at you, and you will deserve it. If I can do it, Internet, you can do it, too.