I need to start this post off with an apology.  Gluttons readers, I’m sorry, I’ve been holding out on you.

I’ve eaten at San Soo Gap San three times a week, for the last six months.  I’ve spent over five grand on Korean bbq in 2008.  I am not joking.  But guess what mf’s?   I regret nothing.  If anything, I want it even more.  That’s the severity of mouth boner that I have for San Soo Gap San.  Let it be known that I’m a streaky eater.  I once ate the Qdoba Poblano-Pesto Chicken Burrito 3 times a week for 4 months straight and loved every minute of it (ignoring my friend’s pleas to stop.)  But this, my friends,  is something else entirely.

Let’s start off with this litte introductory video to set the pace and give perspective.   (if you have 3d glasses, put them on now)

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Welcome back!  So as you can see, this place doesn’t fuck around.  And yes, you saw it correctly, each table is equipped with its own ultra-hot wood burning grill.  I am not sure what type of wood this is, or what type of delicious-ass forest it grows in, or what scrumptious log cabin it might have been scavenged from . . . but christ all, I freakin’ love that wood . . . nay . . . i need that wood.  (I’m confident enough with my sexuality where I can write things like that.)

Anyhoo, the way that shit works at San Soo Gap San is slightly different than at other restaurants.  For example, at a Mexican restaurant, after you order your entrée, you are often rewarded with a basket of chips and salsa to help pass the time.  At San Soo, the free chips and salsa looks like this:

unidentified deliciousness

This is the part of the meal where the more sheltered diners start to panic.  The average American will most likely only recognize 1 of the 25 complimentary side dishes.  (potato salad) . .and honestly after eating these items dozens of times, I still have no idea what they are called and have only the slightest guess what they are made of.  My advice to you is to taste the things identified in the image above first and then venture into no-mans land.   As for items to avoid: anything that is translucent or reminds you of Predator’s active camouflage, imo is pretty gag nasty. . . so steer clear unless you’ve lost a bet.  Please remember, this is all a dick tease.  The reason for the season is coming up next. (sorry jesus)

Lets talk about MEAT (cue the death metal):

Resist the urge to eat it raw.

Either one with the brown sauce. Prepare for paradigm shift.

mysterious brown goo that makes everything better

Dip the ribeye in oil for increased meat viscosity.

What you should order the first time you visit (in order of importance):

Appetizer:
- Chop Chae (gummy beefy noodle dish) - *warning - this seems easy to choke on, but it is worth the risk.
- Pajun (seafood filled pancakelike disc)

Main Course:
- Large ribeye (dip in the oil)
- Kalbi (marinated short ribs, dip in the brown goo)
- Dak Kalbi (spicy chicken, dip in the brown goo)

In conclusion, San Soo Gap San is the greatest restaurant in the world.  All other restaurants are bullshit in comparison.  I love it so much.  I am gay for it.  I would marry it.

Things We've Eaten best korean chicago, best restaurant ever, chicago korean bbq, korean bbq chicago, san soo gap san

When I was in college, I rarely told people that I grew up in Indianapolis. Then my fam moved to NOVA, and I was quick to rep a city that had Go-Go and crack far above a city that featured the Indy 500. But alas, things change. People change. After my pseudo-exodus from Indy, a southern mom-and-pop joint opened up two locations in downtown Indianapolis called Yats; transforming the “Capitol of Conventions” into a neo-Bourbon street. Soon after, I made the pilgrimage back to Nap-Town. I tasted Yats and yucked it up like some fat mom jokes.

But hey, hold that gas money or Megabus fare playa, because a few weeks ago, the cajun crazies appeared in the West Loop.

Don’t let the location fool you…this is a restaurant built for the common man who likes to throw some chilies into the bowl called life every now and again. Half orders are $4.50, full plates are $5.50, and its $6.50 for any combination. There are no printed menus because the shit changes up everyday.

I didn’t catch Joe Vuskovich-the New Orleans owner/restauranteer-up in the fray, but he has effectively infused classic Southern hospitality with Midwestern corn values. A kat called Nate greeted me promptly as I finished pouring my Country Time Lemonade via fountain, showing me love for rollin thru. Wall decor was plentiful but the room still felt bare. It musta been a lack of sweat filled groans of pleasure that I am used to experiencing at the Indy locations. Soon come dough.

Enough non-food talk, peepith:

Above, we have the round robin shot by my boy drooo (a Nap-Town transplant who co-signs on the goodness). The plates-of-Yat clockwise: B&B, White Chili w/ Cheese (sour cream added), Pazole Stew, Curry Mushroom Ettoufee, Ropa Vieja (behind the Sriracha), Chicken Maque Choux, and Chili Cheese Ettoufee w/ crawfish.

It ain’t no muhfuckin fire drill at Yats; these kids slang flavors like Sysco Foods slangs frozen buffalo wings. Every flavor in the dish is clean, not muddled. Cajun spices are balanced by layering at various stages during creation of the dish which yields a flow of flavors. Taking a bite of a Yats dish is much like slamming the last bowl from a box of Count Chocula. You get the marshmallows AND the toy. Any haters out there that think its not possible to have that cake and eat it too? Well, its time for you to step the fuck off.

And now we gon get all up in Yats’ personal:

I call this my “Trio of Glory Laced in Styrofoam.” I ripped through the containers like it was Christmas ‘83, trying to get at what was lofting behind the wrap. The Chicken Maque Choux ended up taking gold. Listen, I don’t eat corn. I consider it a waist of time for my bicuspids to chew something that is going to come out with the same identity that it went in with. But these little yellow biddies were on some wow-me-now shit. The ettoufee was a perfect balance of sweet and spicy dankness which mentally transported me back to Indy and reminded me that there is more than corn in Indiana (and it is not at Indiana Beach).

Word is bond, this restaurant is going to blow like Mount St. Helens. Yes, it is BYO, and I am also told that delivery into Loop will begin shortly so you fools can get your corporate cajun on.

We’re going bless Yats with our gold placard of Solid Food Goldness, but unfortunately doesn’t exist yet, so hold tight Joe. Utmost props for creating a product and making that shit fucking correct. Lastly, a welcome to the fine city of Chicago. We can’t wait for January when you will electric blanket our cold souls.

Dinner, Lunch yats, yats chicago

As you may have guessed, Chicago Gluttons primarily reps people of various colors. Take heed dough; we aint no puh ass, pigeon feeding fools. Be it hot dogs or foie gras, we only fuck wit the best. So, yea shunn, last week we transported the krew to Japonais to get all Kristy Yamaguchi with it. Pops was right…you get what cha pay fuh.

Don’t mind ole boy in the pleated $29.99 Dockers. He was in town from Jersey City.

Five of us ate $415.00 deep into the menu. It was like culinary rape; tearing through dishes like the Father, Son and Holy Ghost ordained it. The menu became our Koran…and we read thoroughly. That said, I’m not going to feature everything here…this is just some highlights to get your mouth yearning for compensatory time.

Out the gate, the Ahi Tuna Ceviche and “The Sushi Bar Special” (both pictured above) got full bars. Both dishes were extremely fresh and light; a perfect compliment to a duckbutter filled, dishrag Sunday. The tempura shallots and english peas showed prowess and guile by the dueling kitchens (Japonais has two different kitchens; two different chefs).

When the lab-with-knives brought out the Kani Kani, we were B. Gumped. IQ’s reduced exponentially; drool ran profusely. The crab claws were wrapped in skrimps and crab mousse, then stacked for aesthetic presence. A tru delicatessen not for the light hearted. Think seafood lambchop and you’re pretty close.

Oh no, you are not seeing things…the plate featured two baby crabs fried hard n’ shit.

Mains featured the Salmon Japonais and Chilean Seabass Cartoccio. That oil-like substance you’re viewing is “curry oil” which the USDA will soon be marketing as our next sustainable fuel source. The salmon rested on two sticks of melted butter and whole cream. Our hearts made valiant attempts to avoid the cholesterol surge and the hypertension which would soon ensue. A few chest pounds treated our palpitations to a potent laxative.

I’m not even going to say anything bout the “Le Quack Japonais.” My fellow Gluttons will let cha ya know what I’m taumbout:

Rary- “You heard the duck was good? Good? I lived that shit last weekend brah. . good is a huge understatement, this shit is the motherfuckin’ white knight. Lets put this shit in SAT format so you can understand:
Michael Jordan is to basketball as Japonais is to Duck. Wooh . . I just got goosebumps. I gotta take a shower now.”

Rin Rin- “I don’t know what they did to that duck, but when Punchy and I went I wanted slap him in the face with a piece of that poultry because it was so dank!”

By the time dessert arrived, the Glutton krew was weak but not skurred in the slightest. We chop down gluttony like ya boy Paul Bunyan (No axes. CGs savage uncharted territories and plant pork in developing nations). You know how we do before the shop closes: sugar coated, chocolate filled doughnuts complimented by fresh green tea ice cream.

Japonais did us correct. I might consider a second visit if I can avert taking out a second mortgage.

Dinner, Lunch, Things We've Eaten