My Korean Dad saw my panic, scooped up the octopus, and stuck it on top of my chopsticks, twirling the legs akin to spaghetti, and handing it to me as if it were an innocent lollipop. Staring down one another, my little brother, and I took our first bites. The legs on my octopus released themselves from my chopsticks and went everywhere-- in my hair, on my face, down my neck. I struggled to eat while also being attacked. Luckily, my Korean Mom had mercy, as she brandished a pair of scissors and cut the legs that were giving me a run for my money.
What wasn't cut, was left for me to chew, but the suckers stuck to my teeth making that process difficult and what I could swallow, at times, stuck to the inside of my cheek. But I wouldn't give in before my brother. Never. We were in a stand off, both chewing, quite literally, for our lives. After about five minutes, my jaw ached and I had a new problem: swallowing. At some point, I had burst the ink sack and my mouth was filled with the bitter solution and the squishy cartilidge was equally unappealing. I was out of water and napkins and with no way of communicating my needs. What could I do, my brother tapped out, but I still had hamster cheek-sized yuck to get rid of. So I took a deep breath and swallowed. And it was the grossest thing I have ever tried. I promised my Mom to never complain about brussel sprouts again!
Despite this experience, I adore Korean food and I'm always looking for something new to try. Without fail, there is good food and conversation to be had in South Korea. Most restaurants don't cater to single servings: meals are meant to be shared, and usually from the same plate. I like the fact that at meal-times, everyone drops their work obligations and eats together.
