You and Miga

There's more than meats the eye at Center City's new Korean barbecue restaurant.

by David Snyder

[ review ]

Mark Stehle SEOUL OF THE MATTER: There is no shortage of options at Miga — highlights here include banchan (complimentary starters) and the tofu kimchi pork bokum.

For people like me, there are few experiences more satisfying than uncovering an authentic eatery tucked away in a neighborhood known for a specific branch of ethnic cooking — an overlooked dim sum joint in Chinatown; a hopping bahn mi spot on Washington Avenue; a lengua-slinging taqueria in deep South Philly. These places, though, often have a few hurdles — far-flung addresses, sparse to no décor, limited seating, language barriers so thick you need Rosetta Stone just to order a Coke. For meandering food freaks, such features are practically essential — if a restaurant feels too accommodating, we begin to suspect sanitization. For less adventurous eaters, though, they can present serious barriers to patronage.

Sam Cho does not believe that authenticity and accessibility are mutually exclusive. To prove it, he's opened Miga, an authentic Korean barbecue spot in ¡Pasion!'s former digs. According to Kim Gould (Miga's operating manager and Cho's niece), Cho didn't want to dumb down the food to avoid offending anyone. His tack, instead, was to make real-deal Korean cuisine more approachable by serving it in an upscale setting, on a Center City block just steps from swanky destinations like Butcher & Singer. (A majority of the city's long-running Korean restaurants are located in North Philly.)

Cho, who owns the nearby Alfa as well as Oh So Good on 11th Street, retooled the 105-seat space to mimic the feel of a typical Korean home. Hanji, traditional Korean paper, makes up a decorative sliding door hung on the wall. Tasteful splashes of red accent lattice woodwork. Much of the art, from paintings to sculptures, comes from Cho's personal collection.

Korean-born, the restaurateur and his wife, Jackie, came to the U.S. 30 years ago. And Gould believes they belong to the last generation that holds onto Korean cooking in practice. "We know how to eat it," she says of Koreans her age (she's 37), "but we don't know how to make it." Thankfully, the kitchen does — heritage shines through all of Miga's dishes.

Jackie Cho relies on passed-down recipes for her banchan, Korean side dishes served at the beginning of the meal. They were some of the best I've ever tasted, starting with the sweet and spicy harmony of gochugaru (powdered Korean chili) and tartness in her fiery kimchi. Dong gu rang dang, ground rib-eye mixed with egg batter and fried into tiny cakes, were both light and flavorful. Even something as simple as crisp, sliced lotus root, marinated in soy and a pinch of sugar, was subtly elegant.

Miga's main draw, of course, is Korean barbecue, and they deliver. Maybe it's a guy thing, but it was difficult for me to lift my gaze from the hypnotic red glow cast by the imported smokeless grills built into the restaurant's custom oak tables. There was a compelling sweet/spicy flair to the galbi, shortrib that marinates for 48 hours in ginger, garlic and gochujang. A delicate drizzle of sesame oil is all you need before draping paper-thin slices of chadolbaegi (beef brisket) over the curved grill top.

But the kitchen does an effective job of reminding us that Korean cuisine is about more than just sizzling meat. The stunning tri-color flying fish roe topping maguro tartar was outshone only by the mango and avocado that gave the finely diced tuna a welcome lift. Though they may seem unlikely partners, the jaeyookbossam's steamed, sliced pork neck made nice with raw oysters after both were wrapped in salt water-marinated cabbage. Even the Kani Kamikaze roll, off Miga's sushi menu, impressed, with a honey wasabi aioli lending a sneaky, mature heat to mild mango and Alaskan King crab.

But the tofu kimchi pork bokum was my favorite dish. Acidic kimchi served as the perfect foil for savory steamed pork belly, and since each element is prepped separately before being stir-fried together, both retain their identities. The huge wedges of soft tofu capping the mound, though, played just as important a role, softening the intense flavors and providing a wonderful textural contrast.

HALF OFF DEPOT

Why live life at full price?

With the exception of a couple of minor disappointments (the seafood pajun, a pancake stuffed with baby octopus and squid, was a tad bland; beef-filled mandu, steamed dumplings, were overcooked), you couldn't ask the kitchen to do better.

The front of the house is where Miga could use some polish. When I asked our server to name a dish she personally enjoyed, she noted the naeng myun, a deep and flavorful summertime buckwheat noodle dish served with cold broth. It felt like I had to twist her arm to get her to put an order in for us, though (one of her previous customers was turned off by the fact that the broth was not hot). When it came time to fire up the tabletop grill, I was surprised that she didn't ask whether we knew how to use red leaf lettuce to prepare beef wraps. Everyone at my table happened to know the drill, but if the goal here is being user-friendly, I would've expected the server to at least ask, especially given her trepidation surrounding the naeng myun.

I respect that Cho wants the servers to cook the meats on the table-top grills instead of the customers — it's more refined, as one would never expect a dinner guest (how Cho describes his customers) to do the cooking. But even when the restaurant is slow, it's noticeable tax on the servers' time. On one visit, even though the place was nearly empty, our server became rattled by how long it was taking to cook up a large batch of chadolbaegi. He realized he forgot the shears needed to cut the large mushroom and raw onion meant to accompany the meat, but, apparently pressed for time, he decided instead to toss the uncut onion rings on the grill only after all the brisket was cooked and consumed. The mushroom he nixed altogether.

Despite these (fixable) service kinks, Miga succeeds at proving that one needn't sacrifice the authentic bent of an ethnic cuisine just because the real estate is more ritzy than remote.

(david.snyder@citypaper.net)

Miga | 211 S. 15th St., 215-732-1616, restaurantmiga.com. Mon.-Thu., 11 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri., 11 a.m.-11 p.m.; Sat., noon-11 p.m.; Sun., noon-10 p.m. Appetizers, $4-$12; sushi and maki, $4-$35; Korean barbecue, $19-$22; entrées, $11-$38. Currently BYOB. Wheelchair accessible.