From the outside, I wondered if I was making a wise dining decision. Seoul Garden, 129 Locust Lane, was not necessarily a dingy establishment, but its scant decorations certainly do not scream class to the passerby. The inside décor was slightly more reassuring, with adequate Asian vegetation sprucing up a cozy dining room.
The chairs were one of a kind; the backrests were strangely pliable, reminding me of steel wicker. The unobtrusive music in the background sounded like something from a chiropractor's office. All of these surroundings told me I was in for a unique tour de taste.
The service was superb. Something about me screamed ignoramus from the moment I stepped over the mantle; perhaps it was the bastardized pronunciation of the Korean dishes, or the gaze of astonishment at the first pair of metal chopsticks I have ever encountered. Whatever it was, my waiter very patiently explained the various dishes to me and showed me the way to spice and eat them.
Faced with a host of intriguing choices, my stomach and my eyes flew from chicken and pork, to tofu and octopus until they halted abruptly at an arresting word -- tripe. My curiosity forced me to order it; I am very glad I did. It was not on the Seoul Garden Specialty section for nothing; the dish (gom pang) was a beef stock broth with white rice, cellophane noodles, chives and, of course, tripe. Everything worked, except the chopsticks; the hefty amounts of salt suggested by my server brought out the simple goodness of the heart-warming entrée. The tripe was chewy, but tantalizing nonetheless, as long as you disregarded the fact it was cow intestine. And there is something about slurping cellophane noodles like Jell-O that cannot help but put a smile on your face.
Unbeknownst to me, the meal came with a host of side dishes. The cucumber kimchi tasted like raw cucumbers; the red sauce surrounding it was bland and never actually soaked into the vegetable. Besides that, all of the sides really added to the complexity of the meal. The Chinese cabbage kimchi was spicy yet not overwhelming; the soy sauce soaked potatoes had a pleasant salty flavor. But my favorite was the steamed egg. Its texture was creamy, and its taste suggested much more than the simple egg that it was.
To cleanse the palate, I had a few cups of corn tea. Although this may sound disgusting, its inexplicable grainy taste kept me coming back for more. It was perfect in betwixt bites.
Perched atop the bill were a few orange slices. Being the insightful gormandizer that I am, I figured this was to prevent the onset of scurvy when I saw the final damage of the receipt. To my surprise, the corn tea and side dishes were complimentary; my grand total was a whopping $6.95 plus tax.
As one of only two Korean restaurants currently servicing State College, this is a good place to satisfy that hankering for exotic Asian food, should it ever come. Seoul Garden bears no resemblance to any fairway of flora with which I am familiar, but its ethnic food is certainly good for the soul.
