Restaurant review: The Korean better half Pungent beef in the kitschy corridor The pub next door gives new meaning to the word dingy. Burly and bloated ex-pats drooling lager laugh piercingly as they huddle round the lone decrepit pool table, sticks in hand. The pasty lighting, absence of the admonishing sex, and the profusion of shifty, hungry eyes are either evidence of a homosexual scoring ground or the erroneous impressions of a faulty "gaydar". Regardless, the best spot in this pub would probably be somewhere outside it. San Marino's adjacent restaurant half, however, is a modestly-sized factory of delicious meals and, in under three years, has made its indelible mark among the city's handful of competitive Korean establishments intent on raising the bar for each other. It's comprised of a well ventilated narrow corridor of mahogany beams and five tables covered with creamy orange tablecloths. Faux- Victorian dusty-gold framed depictions of fruit ornament the otherwise bare white walls, and the idyllic rendering of the perfect country home looming over my right shoulder was a jigsaw puzzle. A glass-paned display of key chains (from palm-sized fluffy cats to rubber Tasmanian devils), napkins authoritatively arranged in plastic cups, and paper placemats that -- before you've even done anything -- thank you very much, reinforce the permanent kitsch of the décor. The first step in any standardised Korean dining experience would be the laying out of the ban chan, six-plate starters, even for those dining by their lonesome. The pickled cabbage, kim chee, was spicy and overpowering (indulge a little too much and you'll be sure to drown out any other taste) and the soy and sesame seed eggplant was lightly seasoned, cleverly allowing its skin's tart sharpness to do the flavouring work. These nibbles serve as adequate recreation as you await your Wanton or Peking hot sour soup and take in the menu; the special lunch selection is moderately-priced, with such mouth-watering options as stir-fried pork with green chili and Kung Pao fish, and bean curd, for some scratch- your-head reason, has been accorded its own section. The vanity of the waiting staff -- the narcissist assigned to my table kept applying never-ending final touches to the cow pat that passed for his hairdo when faced with any reflective surface while his colleague toyed compulsively with her hemline, assuming all eyes were averted -- doesn't affect their quiet non-intrusive efficiency. It helps that they're governed directly by owner Sangwon Ko, a hawk projecting the portentous seething of a life spent up to the eyeballs in the quotidian, and his tried-&-tested pre- emptive policy of breathing down his subordinates' necks before they can even formulate the concept of screwing up. Spring rolls that seemed greasy turn out to be crispy and fluffy when the food arrives, though I wasn't sure if the watery sweet and sour sauce was the proper consistency. The presentation of the flavour-packed beef in Jiang Bao sauce was fantastic; the mean portion (none of that let's find the beef needle in the veggie haystack gobbledygook here) will leave you torn: do you stop and admire, dig in, or retrieve your former security deposit and try to find a nook or cranny between the thinly shredded lean flesh to call home? The noodles with pork and onions, coated with a molasses-like enigmatic brown sauce and shredded cucumbers, also appeared deceptively unappetising, but all it took was one good stir to transform it into a tasty and well- balanced side order. So if you're up for giving your taste buds an exotic flex, or down to your underwear after losing one too many wagers at the pub's pool table and can't abide any further ignominies (or simply fear for your rectum) you can always find solace next door, where they dauntlessly deliver the gratifying and affordable Korean goods. San Marino Chinese-Korean Restaurant. 29, Street 263 Maadi Open 11am--11pm, daily. Tel: +202 519 2451. Dinner for two: LE150-200. By Waleed Marzouk
