I’m not going to put on any airs about my extensive knowledge of Japanese and Korean food. Apart from the fact that my dad spent some time in Korea while serving in the Army, that I was friends with Huyk Koh in fifth grade, and that my brother took me to a Korean restaurant when I was visiting him in New York, I’m pretty much blind to the intricacies of two deeply complex and ancient cuisines.

I have the same experience, I would guess, as similar equal-opportunity eaters who consider themselves well rounded and dine out three or four times a week. Essentially, what we bring to the table (literally) is a Western palate that tries to deconstruct many flavors that are, many times, more subtle than we can handle. This is even true when we vacation in places we think have somewhat "easy" food; getting a local specialty in coastal Italy might result in an unfinished plate of pureed salt cod and sheer disbelief that the gondoliers on their lunch breaks are all scarfing down the fishy, salty porridge.

I say this not to discredit my own writing, but to point out that few of us have had genuine foreign food experiences on which to draw when we dine, in America, on what might just be a pale imitation of the "real thing." The best we can do is reference the last meal we had that has culinary ties to that which you are eating. Never had Korean? Your mind will associate and compare it with the last Japanese meal you had. If the only Asian food you’ve eaten is Lang’s Express, the first connections you’ll draw may be to that. That is, unfortunately, why so many of us are loath to try and eat new things. We have limited experiences to refer back to, and if it don’t taste like mama’s meatballs, than we don’t want it. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.

So while I can’t speak with true authenticity in mind, Fuji Restaurant on Exchange Street is not only the best place to get Korean food in Portland, it’s the only place to get Korean food in Portland. It also houses a sushi bar and Japanese Hibachi tables in the lower level, both of which I forwent due to 1) The sheer volume of places to get sushi in the area, and 2) The sheer pageantry of watching a cook make a volcano out of a sliced onion, water, and a griddle. We went for the stuff we couldn’t get anywhere else, especially since a few months ago the multiple chefs there decided to revamp the menu.

The things that everyone should be aware of when trying Korean cuisine are the differences that set it apart from Japanese and Chinese dining. The Korean kitchen relies less on fish than the Japanese, and incorporates almost everything else (pork, chicken, beef, soy, rice) as potential main ingredients. It distances itself from the Chinese kitchen by relying less on oil for frying, and more on grilling and broiling its meats. This is most evident in Bul Kogi, grilled strips on beef marinated in soy sauce, sugar, garlic, scallions, and sesame oil. Fuji’s version is thin and tender, although any effects of the grilling technique are lost in the sweet and salty sauce.

Bibimbap, another traditional dish most commonly associated with Korean cooking, is mixed vegetables and beef served over rice, topped with a fried egg and hot sauce. Fuji presents it traditionally, in a hot clay or stone pot, which serves to fry the bottom layer of the rice as it sits in front of you, crackling. The sauce was not as spicy as I expected, but the heat of the bowl made for exciting eating. It’s worth the trip for this dish alone, if you’ve never experienced it.

With every Korean order comes a vegetarian miso soup (with tofu) and Kimchee. This is perhaps the most distinctive flavor and cooking style of Korea: the method of pickling vegetables and serving them as condiments rather than steaming or stir-frying them. The most common vegetable in Kimchee is Napa cabbage (fermented much like sauerkraut), but on two separate occasions I had pickled bean sprouts, zucchini, leafy greens, and even deep-fried tofu. These condiments add sharp contrast to the spicy egg and rice mixture of Bibimbap, or the stir-fired noodles of the Chap Chae.

The few Japanese items we had were solid: a dumpling soup had large chunks of crunchy vegetables to offset the soft dumplings, the Beef Negimaki (strips of steak rolled around green onions) was a fantastic appetizer for those who want to eat something rolled but don’t like sushi, and the fried Udon noodles were simply tossed with vegetables and pork. The Golden Calamari is up there with the best fried squid I have ever tasted.

And if anyone out there can recommend a "as-close-to-authentic-as-possible" Korean restaurant anywhere in the New England area (or outside of it, for that matter), I’d be happy to hit it up for reference’s sake and report back. In the meantime, you all just go get some Bibimbap at Fuji, expand your culinary references, and ask for a little extra spice to feel like you’re on the 38th Parallel.

Andy King can be reached at dinnerwithandy@yahoo.com