A 'Midnight Diner' in Seoul

Pacomen / Korea Times photo by Yun Suh-young

This is the third in a series of articles covering restaurants specializing in authentic international cuisine, produced in collaboration with Todd Sample and Sara Park of food consulting brand ToddSample Eats that recommends authentic international cuisine in Korea. Authentic here doesn't mean sticking to the way things should be, it's about representing the "heart and soul" of a culture. This monthly "dine & talk" journey explores food from different regions and the people who are making them. _ ED.

By Yun Suh-young

In the "Midnight Diner," a Japanese TV series made into a film, the main character who is the owner-chef of a restaurant, known as "The Master," serves whatever food the customer feels like eating when they enter the store, anytime between midnight till morning.

The restaurant is a soul-soothing go-to place for those who want healing comfort food after a hard day at work. The place not only comforts one's stomach with delicious food but also warms the heart with care and attention coming from the Master himself, who interacts with his customers, imparting insight or being a good listener. The Master is like a "messiah," as in the eponymous name of the restaurant, to those seeking a soulful refuge in the bustling city of Tokyo.

Take the same setting into Seoul and there's a restaurant tucked away in the alleyway near Hapjeong Station emitting a similar vibe. The name is "Ozawa."

Seoul's 'Midnight Diner'

From the outside it just looks like one of the many Japanese restaurants in Seoul, selling some of the popular Japanese home-style dishes. But what makes it different is beyond the visible.

Chef Tetsuji "Ted" Ogawa, who refused to put his name on the store and modified it to "Ozawa," gives you a warm fatherly smile as you walk in. The artist-looking chef is the Master-equivalent in Seoul, serving Seoul diners with soul-comforting food till past midnight.

Anyone who sets foot into the 10-seat restaurant will have the honor of being treated with whatever food they feel like eating that day -- even if it's not on the menu. Chef Ogawa will whip up a meal based on request, with whatever ingredient he has in the store.

Chef Tetsuji Ogawa poses in front of a painting hung in his restaurant by American artist Jean Michel Basquiat. / Korea Times photo by Yun Suh-young

"I want my restaurant to be frequented by customers who come and say 'I want to eat this.' Then I'll say, 'Okay I'll make it for you.' That kind of style. Like 'Midnight Diner.' I can make whatever they want because they're coming to eat my food," said Ogawa, during an interview with The Korea Times.

"Now, after I quit a department store project, I can do that. So they can order food that is not on the menu -- whatever they want -- as long as the ingredients are here. That's why I put the sign up saying from March, after regular time, people can order whatever they want. If they make reservations, I can make particular dishes."

Story of 'don'

Ozawa serves a variety of "don" (rice bowls) and "men" (noodles) whose culinary history is defined by fusion and improvisation. Signature dishes at Ozawa are "oyakodon" and "tantanmen."

"About 150 years ago, there was a Japanese casserole 'nabe' (hot pot) store. One day, the chef noticed that customers would eat the chicken but leave the broth untouched. So he got rid of the broth, put an egg into the sauce and made 'oyakodon,' which became the beginning of the dish we know today," said Ogawa.

"The word 'oyako' means parent and child in Japanese. Because egg and chicken are like parent and child, that's where the name came from."

Oyakodon / Courtesy of ToddSample Eats

There are an unlimited number of "dons" in Japan, according to Ogawa.

"Don means 'bowl.' If we put rice and something on it, that's don. Udon is not the same as don. It has different character," he said.

Tantanmen, which was initially Chinese, was revised by the Japanese to fit their own taste.

"It was made by the Chinese living in Japan so the soup is Chinese style. Japanese love soup. So the Chinese lady who created the dish made it like that for Japanese people," said Ogawa.

The "pacomen," with fried pork placed on top of noodles, is another invention by the innovative Japanese.

"The Chinese meaning is 'pork rib fries.' The pork is marinated with Chinese-style sauce. Instead of chashu (grilled pork), they started putting fried pork into ramen. This is relatively new -- maybe it started about half a century ago," he said.

Pioneer of Japanese 'jipbab'

Ozawa has been running for 10-years now, mostly occupied with regular customers who find comfort in his food.

"Ozawa is on record for re-tweets (over 5,000) on our account. (I guess) everyone was looking for real Japanese-style jipbab (home food). Now gajeongshik (home-style meal) is quite popular. Japanese food is (defined by) either a few ramen restaurants with Japanese chefs or sushi places. We thought that the idea of what is Japanese jipbab is not well defined in Korea. Everything else -- like izakaya, sushi, ramen -- people know, but not jipbab," said Todd Sample, explaining why this restaurant was a perfect place to experience Japanese jipbab.

"Considering the proximity of the two countries, there's a disproportionate amount of authentic non-sushi, non-ramen places. I think that's why the response on twitter was so huge. The Japanese owner adds a premium to it. It's where the authenticity comes in," he said.

Japanese home cooking is defined as "fusion," according to the chef.

"Now we have Japanese families making every country's food in the house, so it's fusion. For traditional ones, they go outside to eat because it's hard to make it. But inside the house, they make everything -- mixing every country's style, not only Japanese style," he said.

"Here, I'm making real Japanese home-made style that is affordable, popular dishes, not traditional high-end Japanese cuisine."

Ogawa wanted to be a pioneer in jipbab. When he first opened 10 years ago, people didn't know what "donburi" was.

"First I was thinking a ramen shop. Donkatsu ramen was getting popular. But I wanted to be the frontier. So I was thinking about what I should do. Then I came up with the idea of donburi. Back then people didn't know the name 'donburi.' So I said 'Japanese-style deopbab' (Korean rice bowl with toppings). Then right after I opened the donburi shop, the trend, the boom was donburi. Other donburi shops in Seoul opened," he said.

Interior of Ozawa / Korea Times photo by Yun Suh-young

Musician or chef?

Chef Ogawa does not have a culinary background -- academically-speaking. But his cooking career spans 50 years, since he was seven years-old. He learned cooking hands-on by himself, by watching cooker programs on TV, reading books and watching his mother cook.

"I was interested in making dishes since I was a child. When I was seven, that was the first time I was in the kitchen and I told mom, 'please get out so I can make it myself," said Ogawa.

"I was interested in two things -- music and food. So I wanted to be either a chef or a musician. But my dad said 'no, you have to go to university.' So I went to university. In college, I studied English and American literature. But that was an excuse to get out the house. After graduating, I went to the United States to play music," said the chef.

Ogawa played the guitar. His main genres were funk and soul, mostly influenced by his Black musician friends. He also played bass and drums and occasionally composed. He and his band "almost" signed an album with a recording studio in the U.S, but it didn't work out. Then came the Red Hot Chili Peppers. "We were one step late," he said, chuckling.

"Instead of playing music, I turned to selling musical instruments. I traveled the world to various countries, eating a lot of good food. Ever since I quit playing music, I dreamed about opening my own restaurant. I was around 30 years old."

He had planned to open a high-end restaurant with a friend who was a sous-chef at a restaurant in the U.S. But all of a sudden, the friend died, right before opening the restaurant.

"So it was a hard time for me. Once I gave up opening the restaurant, I came to Korea because one of my Korean friends told me that Japanese food was a rising trend here and told me I had to open the restaurant here instead of the U.S.," said Ogawa.

"I was also interested in the market here. Trends go up fast and go down fast too. It's dynamic."

Creator, innovator

Ninety-nine percent of his customers are Korean, dominated by women in their 20s and 30s. Ogawa said he nestled in the Hongdae area, a hipster college district, because it was a "hotspot for new trends."

"I saw the Gangnam area, Itaewon, Jongno... and I liked it here because there's mixed culture and the young generation. So I thought this would be the best (location) for me to start a new kind of restaurant. It was not conservative and always looking for new trends."

Initially, Ogawa had three restaurants in the city. He sold the Jongno location to an employee who operates it under a different name now, and he closed the one inside a department store because of the restrictions he faced. Now he has only one store in Seoul, which he's quite pleased with because he can do whatever he wants.

"I wanted to create something new every day. When I was in the department store, I had to do the same thing every day and do it a lot. I was not allowed to create a new menu. That was one of the reasons I quit. I was tired," said Ogawa.

"I needed freedom. I like making music, I like making menus."

Information:

Ozawa is located near Hapjeong Station, line 6, exit 3.

Address: 395-171 Seogyo-dong, Mapo-gu, Seoul

Phone number: (02) 335-5551

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