poke dumprings

God bless Korea. And god bless FAB for introducing me to the wonder that is Korean barbeque. Tonight after eating sushi at Drone's for the first time in way too long, I made the voyage out to Williamsburg to the bar my work friend works at. Another work friend had been drinking there since 4 pm and needed some sustenance, so after a couple beers and a couple double whiskey shots I left with her to get some food. Having already had a solid dinner I wasn't hungry at all, but when a giant plate of raw beef was placed before us I was powerless. We cooked the choice black angus on our table, flipping it with chopsticks, so that it was a little charred on both sides. You really can't go wrong with spicy (very, very spicy) saucy beef wrapped in a lettuce leaf. I was crying, snotting, sweating, and stuffing my face simultaneously. I hadn't felt that kind of pain since the time in high school when my then-boyfriend, who is half Korean, made me take a bite of a teeny little pepper his parents grew in the backyard. My mouth was in agony for at least an hour and I consumed about a gallon of milk and ice water. Apparently I've progressed a lot since then and was able to power through the pain and finish my share of the beefy goodness. I was a vegetarian for eight years and I fully understand the choice to not eat meat, but my god was I missing out.