So... Dog Meat

Tonight was my second hwe-shik, the evening when all the teachers from the high school go out together for dinner and drinks.  On the menu this go-round?  Boshintang.  Otherwise known as... dog soup.

I really didn't think this opportunity/dilemma would ever actually present itself to me, let alone in my first 2 months in Korea.  But there it was anyway.  I had to make a decision: to eat or not to eat?  It turns out that the current status of eating dog meat in Korea isn't so clear-cut at all.  If I understand correctly (which I may not), the sale of dog meat has technically been illegal in South Korea since 1984, but outside of Seoul the law is very weakly enforced.  It has long been a tradition in Korea that at the beginning of summer, when the weather starts to get hot, people partake in a meal of dog soup.  It's considered to be very healthy and the heat of the soup is meant to balance the impending heat of summer, basically helping you start off the season in good health.  Or so the cultural tradition goes.




These days, however, the attitudes toward consumption of dog meat have become heavily westernized, and the old traditions are going out the window.  It's really only the older generations that will still eat dog when the summer begins.  The vast majority of Koreans under the age of 30 view dogs as pets and absolutely refuse to keep this tradition going.  The stigma against eating dog seemed clear simply from the utter randomness of the location of the restaurant.  It was buried in between factories and farms in the middle of some back country road in the middle of freaking nowhere.  I mean, no one was ever gonna accidentally find this place, you pretty much need to know exactly where you're going.  Even at the hwe-shik, those eating dog soup were separated from the rest of the people eating chicken soup, since many people can't even bear to see or smell the dog meat.

As I took my first tentative steps into the "dog soup room," I could feel the eyes of every teacher in the "chicken soup room" following me.  Some of them seemed appalled that I was going to partake in what they consider a barbaric custom.  But I've always said that I am willing to try anything at least once and, frankly, I knew that I would ingratiate myself to the principal and vice-principal and other "good ole boys" by joining the (not coincidentally) all-male dog dining room.  Which I totally did.  The principal was eminently impressed and incredibly pleased that I was "experiencing the traditions of Korea."  He actually said he appreciated it, which is kind of a big thing, just because of the power structure and hierarchy in Korean schools.  Being in the good graces of the principal is a huge deal and something which I hope will assist me in the future when making requests for vacation time or travel out of the country (yes, I need permission from my school to leave Korea during my own vacation).

But this is all beside the point.  What's really important is how did it taste?  Well, shockingly and a little disturbingly, it was actually pretty damn good.  You know how so many meats don't have anything special about them?  They pretty much all just "taste like chicken."  Well, dog meat is not like that at all, it is definitely distinct.  It has a really unique flavor, a pretty nice one at that, and it is frankly one of the most tender meats I've ever eaten.  In terms of texture, it might be one of the best meats I've ever had.  For crying out loud, even the fat was good.  Big pieces of fat floated in the soup along with the actual meat and, while the thought kind of grossed me out, the taste was surprisingly great.  All in all, I finished my meal pleased with my adventurousness and ability to culturally assimilate.  And hey, dog meat wasn't so bad at all.

Until I left the restaurant.  Waiting for Wu Sik to come pick us up in his mini SUV, I looked across the driveway at the pen full of chickens, probably waiting to be slaughtered for some upcoming meal.  And then my eyes drifted to the right and in the adjoining pen sat two small dogs looking like the saddest things in the world.  I immediately felt so guilty I couldn't even bear to look at them.  When it's just meat floating in a bowl, it really can be just anything.  But once I could put the faces to the future soup ingredients, I felt a little bit sick.  I certainly don't regret eating the gaegogi tonight and I'm glad that I can say that I've tried it firsthand.  But it's pretty safe to say that there won't be a repeat occurrence of tonight's events.  Pretty safe indeed.