Yesterday, after Korean Class, my brother and I take his new company car for a spin. We don't really agree on many things. We never have, and it's okay to disagree but our differences run deep. When we hike the mountain or take a drive, these are times we can really talk about things as adults instead of being nit-picking siblings. His car looks like a car one of the guys from the Revenge of the Nerds would drive. As we walk to his boxy ride, I instantly notice the front right tire needs air. I ask him about the engine and he hasn't even popped the hood since he first got it four days ago. I make a joke about dozens of mice spinning wheels as the engine, but things like this make me start decaying inside, especially when it comes from my brother. He knows these kinds of protocols, and yet he is more excited about getting the car like a freakin' child. Not only that, he was once a truck driver, so he knows about basic maintenance. So, we take a 30 minute drive to Cheolsan Dong- his old stomping grounds. The thing about my bro is that he knows about good restaurants, memorable restaurants which were either introduced to him through networking or just by him following his nose (he has the luck of the rabbit, too).
Inside Nolboo, the waitresses kindly greet him and eat up his smile. They know what he likes. The restaurant decor is sophisticated enough for both suits and casual dates. Cute Korean kids dressed in Sunday wear are playing within the boundaries of their parent's eye sight. We sit in a booth where we don't have to take off our shoes. I'm thinking this place has a clean kitchen by the aroma of jujube in the air. We order, and then my brother tells me that his knee has arthritis.
He's had knee problems for almost 12 years since he tore his ACL playing basketball during a college pick up game. We were a dynamic duo at the height of our b-ball days. Till this day, he still brags about me being able to dunk the ball. It was something I practiced since middle school. He gets pleasure from talking about feats while I like to think about feats as pain levels. I really don't like the fact that my brother's word doesn't account for much to me. We talk about this and he tries to defend himself, always. It's frustrating, and half the time we both revert to sibling bullshit.
The surgeon tells him about his arthritis, that the doctor from last year who performed the surgery for his ACL wasn't very good. All the physical therapy has helped the stability in his knee, but somehow since the operation his cartilage has been wearing away. I asked if he has spoken to our aunt or uncle, who are doctors, for their diagnosis. He says no. Did he ask the doctor how this happened, was there any malpractice in the surgery? The question of how or why wasn't asked. He is already thinking of cartilage replacement. And even when the doctor tells him not to hike the mountain, his pride instantly starts blurting out defiant words.
The galbi tang comes, and it was delicious, the best I've ever had. The kimchi and kkakdugi have just enough spice and zing for a king. Even for a meat n' potatoes guy, my brother orders two salads. It makes me smile when the power of food breaks through a comfort zone. The namul (vegetable, in this case a kind Korean broccoli raab) is tossed with tofu that resembles clumps of feta. I'm thinking it's feta, but the moment it enters your mouth images of beaches and lemons being squeezed in slow motion occur. It was like a damn commercial. I order another helping. Yuggio! Namul han-gae chuseo. The meal was topped with an earthenware cup of Shik'hye. This made my shik'hye taste like an amateur. Mine was good, but this one was refined, clear as water and succulent as Greek honey. You leave the restaurant with this flavor~ wow..
I get out of the car, laptop in tow as I'm joking about the mice in his hood. I'm hoping his rickety knee will get better as he starts to lose some weight.
No comments:
Post a Comment