Everyone deserves a table decked out with an enticing spread of banchan. Mugunghwa, a new Korean restaurant in El Cerrito, embraces a celebratory approach to dining, much like its shabu shabu sister restaurant, Hancook, on Telegraph Avenue. All of the tables are big enough to accommodate group outings en route to or from the Mallard—or Club Mallard as it’s now called—down the street on the Albany border.
When we arrived, parties of three or more surrounded every table in the house. It may not have been anyone’s birthday or anniversary, but the diners who dropped by on that rainy night feasted as if they were eating out at a medieval banquet.
Even with six shining silver bowls of banchan set down at the center of the table, more than enough space remained for several entrées. The ones we ordered crackled with grilled meats and vegetables, while a soup broth bubbled over the edges of its bowl. The entrées were, in fact, served so hot that the tabletop veneer retained the scalding temperature long after the plates were removed.
Mugunghwa, South Korea’s national flower, is a variety of hibiscus also known as the rose of Sharon. A symbolic rendering of the flower adorns a large sign outside the restaurant. A similar one inside hangs at the back. A fresh coat of white paint covers the rest of the dining room, with no other décor. When the colorful dishes started to line up on the table, I concentrated on them and forgot about the bare walls and the stark interior.
White Korean radish featured prominently in four of the six bowls of banchan. Before they’re fermented, freshly harvested Korean radishes are as long as carrots but as plump as eggplants. In one bowl, they were cut into thick slices like wedges of melon or citrus, and splattered with red dots of chili oil. The one I bit into had the consistency of a poached pear or a juicier, more satisfying version of jicama.
In the three other bowls, the cooks sliced the radishes until they resembled short and longer strands of noodles. One batch served as a supporting ingredient to scallion stems and chili oil. Another mingled with green chili peppers bathed in soy sauce. And my favorite—perfectly pickled translucent strands of radish with diced carrots. This preparation offered a bright, briny, crunchy note that paired nicely with my stone dolsot bibimbob bowl of pork bulgogi ($18).
Rice crisps up at the bottom of the bowl. It’s topped and surrounded by a riot of white bean sprouts, diced carrots, zucchini slices and spinach leaves slowly wilting from the heat, along with mushrooms and a fried egg laced with ribbons of black seaweed. The shrivelled pieces of pork were the least interesting components of the dish. I liked the feeling of scraping off the clusters of rice from the warmed stone surface and then pairing them with a mixture of meat and vegetables.
A bowl of tofu soup with assorted seafood ($20) continued to boil and bubble up lava red for a solid 10 minutes after arriving at the table. The molten broth contained the body of a whole shrimp, entirely intact, along with clams, and squid curled up into rings. Tofu squares and rectangles bobbed up and down as the soup bubbles formed, popped, reformed and surfaced again. To cool the food down outside of this witch’s cauldron, we ordered a side of purple rice ($4) and set ingredients upon it, watching the steam rise up to evaporate before it hit the ceiling.
We also ordered a pot of corn tea, a first for me. My friend suggested it might remind me of barley tea. I could taste the faint flavor of corn, but it was less assertive than barley. With a distillery on the premises, I imagined how it could be made into moonshine. We sipped our cups of tea until Mugunghwa emptied out. For that night, the celebratory feasts had ended. As we walked outside, a mellow-jazz pianist played music on the speakers above us, repeating the same notes to the audience on an infinite loop.
Mugunghwa, open Sun-Thu, 11am to 9pm, and Fri-Sat, 11am to 9:30pm. 10140 San Pablo Ave., El Cerrito. 510.989.5019.
Yum! Can’t wait to try them out.