Busan Jagalchi Fish Market

The smell of fresh sea creatures. Some find the briny odor irksome. Others salivate dreaming of the sweet tastes they signify. Sami belongs to the former group. As our days spent on the Korean peninsula have increased, my wife's tolerance for all things oceanic has declined exponentially. It's a shame because she used to revel in the joys of fresh salmon, halibut and my dad's famous fried crappie fillets- hand reeled, battered and fried (not from the ocean, but whatever). Part of the problem, I believe, is that most of the fish we eat at school is salted mackerel. She is not really into anything "fishy" (a culinary criticism I fail to comprehend- can a chicken be too chickeny? Spaghetti too spaghettiey?) and doesn't groove on all the bones left in. Myself? I say the more bones the better, keeps it moist. Plus, they are small so most of the time I just chew real good.

We walked into the famous Jagalchi Fish Market with the intention of trying san nakchi- raw, recently chopped octopus tentacles still squirming. There was trepidation in Sami's eyes when she stepped into the damp, putrid warehouse, but she persevered, if only to please our friends Tor and Becky who joined us in our long weekend in the southern coastal city of Busan.

We sauntered through the aisles snapping close up pictures of abalone, urchins, cuttlefish, sea squirts, sharks, crabs and more. The colors inside the tanks nearly overshadowed the smells- fleshy pinks and vibrant orange and blues. One merchant picked up a sea squirt gun and sprayed us with stinky water.

After making the rounds we climbed a flight of stairs to the second floor which housed the dining area. Small restaurants all competed for business in the large, but crowed space. One elderly woman shoved a menu in our hand and tried to usher us to her corner of the room, no doubt attempting to take advantage of our lack of communication skills. We artfully sidestepped her and met a man who could get us the octopus. We were initially under the impression that we could buy something from downstairs and have the experts prepare it for us. Sadly this wasn't the case. We settled for a plate of sashimi, assorted side dishes, soup and the san nakji.

I snacked on the salted mackerel, ate one side and then turned it over to search for more bits of meat. Unfortunately, there were only guts. Tor and I ate the stranger items next. The sea cucumber was good and the sea squirt was ok, but looked and tasted like tongue. A few sips of beer and a shot of soju helped it down.

Soon the squirming plate of translucent tentacles arrived coated with sesame oil. I struggled to pick one up as the suction cups of the detached arms clung to the plate in one last attempt to remain unharmed. Eventually I snagged one, dipped it in red pepper paste and let it crawl around on my tongue. After a few minutes of playing with my food I made sure to chew the raw, moving seafood completely. I had heard stories of people choking to death while swallowing san nakji it stuck to their throat and would not release. My theory is that these people were drunk and stupid.

Next it was Sami's turn to try. I had given up on peer pressure many years ago, but somehow Tor and Becky were able to convince her to try it. I looked on dumbfounded as she raised the chopsticks to her mouth. Is this really happening? All these months of avoiding seafood altogether and now she is jumping right back in with raw octopus no less?

She put it in her mouth and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. Careful not to die. And chewed. And swallowed. She liked it. I guess it wasn't "fishy."