Galley Gossip: Even flight attendants deserve the right to choose pants

by Heather Poole on

In a magazine I read years ago, a bigwig working for an international Asian carrier was quoted stating, “Passengers wouldn’t dare yell at a flight attendant wearing a dress.” It felt like a snide remark directed toward flight attendants in the United States who prefer to wear pants. Instead, it just demonstrated that he hadn’t spent much time with U.S. passengers, who are non-discriminating. They are happy to yell both at flight attendants wearing dresses and passengers wearing dresses.

That’s a quote from my book “Cruising Attitude: Tales of Crashpads, Crew Drama and Crazy Passengers at 35,000 feet.” I’m only sharing it with you because there’s been a lot in the news lately about Asiana Airlines. Its flight attendants are upset because they aren’t allowed to wear pants (or even glasses!). Their union recently filed a complaint to the human rights commission of Korea. The airline claims the uniform was designed based on hanbok, the Korean traditional dress. The flight attendants understand the airline has an image it wants to pursue, but they also believe the most important function of their job is to assist passengers.

I prefer to wear my skirt over the uniform pants and dress. In fact, I’ve only worn the pants a handful of times during my career — and I’ve been a flight attendant for 17 years! At first, it was the big bulky pleats with the high waist that was a problem for me. Now that the pleats are gone, the pants fit lower on the hips and the ankles aren’t tapered, it’s the material I have an issue with; it’s so thin you can practically see through it!Last week a reporter for a well-known newspaper told me she had recently participated in what sounded like a flight attendant training program being offered to journalists and frequent fliers. She learned all kinds of interesting facts, including what not to wear on the plane in case there’s an emergency evacuation.

“Which is exactly what most flight attendants are wearing, right?” I asked.

There was a long pause before she replied, “Now that you mention it…”

The point I’m trying to make is this: it actually makes more sense for flight attendants to be wearing pants. I’m not saying we should wear pants. I’m not even saying I want to wear pants. I’m just saying that having the option might be nice. As long as we look and feel good while doing exactly what we were hired to do – assist passengers – does it really matter if some of us are more comfortable wearing tailored trousers opposed to pencil skirts? If designed right, both can be equally stylish.

Come on, Asiana. Loosen up. Times have changed. Passengers have changed. Why can’t the uniform also change to reflect the modern times? If some flight attendants want to wear pants, let them wear pants!

Am I wrong?

Don’t answer that. Only because I can hear it already: “QUIT YOUR JOB IF YOU WANT TO WEAR PANTS!”

[Photo courtesy of Blackwych]

Dim sum has a little somethin’-somethin’ for everyone

by Laurel Miller on

I realize that Chinese New Year ended on February 6th, but in an effort to establish that there’s no bad time to visit Hong Kong or eat Cantonese food, I decided that now would be a good time to write about dim sum (also, I’m a terrible procrastinator. Is it really almost St. Paddy’s Day?).

Hong Kong means different things to different people. Some go for the bargains on everything from cameras to couture, others for the booming nightlife and easy access to other parts of Asia. Others just…really like Jackie Chan movies. Whatever your reason, this former British colony is faring well since it’s 1997 return to China (technically the city and environs are considered a Special Administrative Region–SAR–of the mainland). While not as cheap as other Asian cities or destinations, Hong Kong offers plenty of attractions, food and travel options to suit all budgets.

To a little piglet such as myself, Hong Kong means dim sum. In a city positively obsessed with eating, dim sum is perhaps Hong Kong’s most beloved culinary ritual. Dim sum, which is variously translated as “touching or pointing to the heart,” refers to a variety of steamed or fried dumplings, rice flour rolls, and other small savory or sweet snacks. While Westerners have openly embraced dim sum where dumplings are concerned, some traditional dishes such as braised chicken feet (foong jow) and steamed beef tripe with black bean and chili sauce (ngow pahk yeep) aren’t quite the hits they are in China.

Although dim sum is Cantonese (regionally now referred to as Gaungzhou) in origin, today it reflects the multi-regional influences of Hunan, Shanghai, Beijing, and other provinces in various ingredients and styles, such as the inclusion of Hunan ham in a pan-fried root vegetable dish such as taro cake. There are over 2,000 types of dim sum; in addition to the aforementioned dumplings and rice flour rolls, there are spring rolls, pan-fried cakes, baked or steamed buns, crepes, steamed rice dishes wrapped in lotus leaves, bite-size meat dishes such as spare ribs or duck feet, soups, or sweet puddings of tofu with sauces ranging from black sesame to mango.

[Photo credit: Flickr user LifeSupercharger]Standard dim sum ingredients include dried Chinese mushrooms; sweet lotus seed or bean paste; water chestnuts; bamboo shoots; rice or wheat flour; glutinous rice; Chinese sausage (lop cheong); preserved pork belly; dried shrimp; chives; ginger; garlic; seafood; poultry; beef, and pork, although the Cantonese are widely known for eating “everything under the sun,” so few bits and pieces are off limits.

Dim sum is thought to have originated during the Sun Dynasty of 960-1280 AD, when drinking tea at teahouses became a popular custom after a day of labor in the fields. The term yum cha, or “to drink tea,” came to be synonymous with the supplementation of small snacks, or dim sum. Today, teahouses still abound throughout China, and Hong Kong has it’s fair share. These are gathering places where locals can gossip, drink, eat, and relax, although some teahouses–often in five-star hotels– cater to a more upscale clientele, or tourists.

Dim sum is meant to be consumed communally; diners pick what interests them from passing waiters who push carts loaded with bamboo steamers or domed platters- the serving dish will then be placed upon the table, and waiters will tally up the bill according to how many you accumulate. It’s not considered bad form to pick morsels communally from the central plate, although you should place your individual choices into your own bowl or plate to catch any drips, or break apart large items using your chopsticks. Dipping bowls of sweet soy sauce, hot mustard (guy lath) and chili sauce (lath ju yow) are used communally as well, although it’s also common to spoon some condiments onto your plate for personal use.

For an authentic teahouse experience in Hong Kong, although perhaps not the best dim sum, 79-year-old Luk Yu Teahouse in the city’s Central District is a historic landmark. Fiercely crotchety, white-smocked old woman bustle about the small, marble-floored teahouse, carrying battered aluminum trays filled with assorted buns and dumplings around their necks. Over the din of dining Cantonese businessmen and families, ceiling fans lazily circulate and hazy sunlight filters through stained glass windows. Don’t expect to know what you’re eating, however. During my visit, I was the only Westerner there, and as is the way with most dim sum restaurants, selection of dishes comes down to point and choose. My winning pick was a giant, fluffy cha sui bao, or steamed bun, stuffed with sweet barbecued pork.

The dim sum from the immensely popular Super Star Seafood Restaurant in Kowloon, known for it’s whimsical, animal-shaped dumplings is generally excellent. Super Star also offers hands-on dim sum cooking classes by arrangement, and it was there that I (in theory) learned how to pleat my har gow and sek tau yu (rockfish) dumplings. The shaping of dim sum dumplings is an art form that requires skill and dexterity, and the number and style of pleats or shape are specific to each type of dumpling; in the case of har gow, the “shark fin” pleat is said to replicate the shape of a gold ingot. Although my sek tau yu resembled malignant tumors rather than the goldfish they were meant to represent, the instructor was kind, and they tasted wonderful; the airy filling redolent of ginger and garlic, the dough tender and whisper-thin.

My favorite dim sum came from a much-loved Cantonese restaurant chain in Hong Kong called Tai Woo. At the Tsim Sha Tsui location, my meal began with several dim sum-style dishes, including a sweet, moist, steamed turnip cake (loh baak gao) studded with lop cheong and cheung fun, delicate, chewy rice noodle sheets rolled around pungent dried shrimp and chives, both accompanied by both peanut and hoisin sauces for dipping. Cheung fun can also be stuffed with whole shrimp, beef, or barbecued pork, and is often favored as a breakfast treat.

For the adventurous eater, Hong Kong has no shortage of culinary treasures to enjoy, be they in back alley eateries, near street markets, or in high-end restaurants. Explore them all, or enjoy the experience right here at home: every major North American city has its fair share of dim sum restaurants. Most notable for the quality of their dim sum are Vancouver, San Francisco, New York, and Los Angeles. Check out this site; I can’t vouch for every restaurant on it, but I’ll stand by the Bay Area selections.

For more information on visiting Hong Kong, click here.

[Photo credits: Laurel Miller]

A traditional home stay in Seoul – by accident

by Grant Martin on

Jin is waiting for me when I return from Yongsang, placidly sitting at the picnic table in the atrium and staring off into the distance. When I knock on the astroturf covered door he looks up and grins, then lopes over to the door to greet me.

It’s only been one night at the MaMa guesthouse (46, Waryong-dong, Jongno-gu) in Seoul, but I already feel like I belong. Between the Angok (Line 3) and Jeosan (Line 1) stops in the district parallel to Insadong, my discovery of the homestay was purely by accident. Walking toward my original hotel earlier the previous night, I saw the flashy sign of MaMa splashed across the traditionally-styled home and made a mental note: if things didn’t work out with my current accommodations I’d return.

As usual, Jin Sung Jai was resting in his room when I first showed up, and through the front door window I could see his feet hanging out from the sliding doors of his room. He greeted me with enthusiasm – yes, there was a room available tonight, the “mother” room for only 60,000 Won – discounted 25% off of the normal rate.

It would be a traditional room, one not unlike those in a traditional Japanese household with a heated floor, a thin mattress in the center of the room and two linens on top. A sliding, rice paper door was the divider between the main atrium and my room, the same divider that went into Jin’s and four other rooms around the perimeter of the atrium. For this and most other rooms here, the bathroom and living spaces would be shared.

In a way though, that’s the sort of package that a solo traveler needs a foreign land – a small splash of traditional culture, a community space in which to reflect your thoughts and a shepherd to guide you through the process. In the morning I help Jin update his website as a meal of hard boiled eggs, toast and apples is delivered. He shows me through the stacks of paintings with a style that he’s perfected with years of study across parts of Europe, North America and Korea. And with a handshake and a smile he sends me on my way to Incheon Airport. I would give a hundred stays in a big box western hotel in exchange for another night in a place like this.

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Seoul food: an eating and drinking tour of Korea’s capital

by Celeste Brash on

Visiting Seoul during a mid-winter freeze isn’t something I’d recommend to anyone unless, like me, you go there to eat. The few trees are leafless, the local’s faces are sullen with a determination to keep warm and trips to the local sights, such as the beautifully stark outdoor royal palace, only make you want to retreat to a heated room. Luckily, Daniel Gray is there to save us all with his nighttime eating and drinking tour. This is the delicious side of Seoul where you can get as warm and tipsy from atmosphere as from the mugwort beer. And any time of year, the food is excellent.

I don’t often take tours but Dan’s came highly praised by a foodie friend, so I decided to try it. Dan is a Korean American who started a food blog after moving to Seoul to find his roots. As his blog grew, people began asking him to take them to the places he wrote about, so about a year ago he started a culinary tour company and cooking school called O’ngo Food Communications with his friend and chef, Jia Choi.

The night tour is done using local transport or on foot. On the night of our tour, our first stop is barbecue. Dan leads me through an alleyway thick with steam from food stall workers washing their dishes on the sidewalk. The humble neon shop signs and row of rudimentary restaurants look eerily like futuristic scenes in the movie Blade Runner. Our destination is a basic stall-style restaurant covered in clear plastic to keep out the cold. The small tables each have a charcoal barbecue at their center and the place is packed with locals. It smells like cooking pork and the damp air is warmed by body heat and hot grills.We find a table crammed between two others and Dan begins ordering in Korean. We get a few kinds of pork, the best being garnaeggisal, a cut from near the lungs and back, which we grill alongside whole mushrooms and cloves of garlic. We dip the cooked meat in a bean and chili paste mixture called samjang, then wrap it in gaennip (sesame leaf). To wash this down, we drink shots of cheongha, a rice alcohol that tastes like sweet sake. Of course I’m the only non-Asian in the place but all that earns me is a few fleeting smiles.

“Save room,” Dan tells me as I down another perfect, caramelized pork skewer after complaining about being full.

Next we walk to a small cafe called Pub of the Blue Star. It’s an arty place with young couples snuggling in the corners, the unpainted wood walls decorated with the owner’s travel photographs. We sit at a simple round table with small bench seats. Again Dan orders in Korean, and soon we’re served what looks like a miniature witch’s cauldron full of green pond scum.

“It’s called makgeolli– it’s better than it looks,” Dan says, noting my confused expression. “Do you know what mugwort is?”

I do know. It grows in the US and hippies use it to have good dreams – or something. Dan ladles the pea green, frothy drink into our bowls. The rustic drink is known as “farmer’s beer,” and it’s delicious: slightly fizzy, subtly spicy and something I could drink vats of if not careful. The owner makes several other variations such as green tea and mulberry, and I’d like to try them all but decide to stick with one for sobriety’s sake. So we drink the makgeolli with the cafe’s tasty homemade kimchi and talk food.

I of course want to try live octopus, since that’s what I’ve heard is a specialty here. I have an idea that the critters are tiny, like bite-sized wriggling cheese puffs.

“Um, not really,” says Dan. “In fact, I took some people this morning and they ate some. Do you want to see the video I took on my phone?”

He shows me a terrifying clip of a man stuffing a fist-sized octopus in his mouth with a chopstick. The octopus is slathered in sesame oil to make it go slick down the gullet.

“Around four people die every year from eating octopus this way,” Dan explains. “The tentacles grab onto your windpipe and strangle you.”

OK, let’s skip the octopus. Instead Dan suggests we go to the market to eat pancakes called pajeon. I tear myself away from the yummy mugwort brew and again we walk through the cold steaming streets. The market starts in what feels like a mid-city pedestrian tunnel, damp and strewn with litter. We pass vegetable sellers, then the tunnel opens to a wider, covered area stuffed with restaurant stalls and vendors.

It’s getting late and some places are closing but there are still plenty of bubbling pots of soup, fresh fish on display and groups of locals bent over bowls of noodles. We go into a shop where pajeonare being fried up by a grinning grandma. The place is full of young people. Dan orders the specialty modumjeon, a mix of pan-fried snacks made from spam, flounder, kimchi and tofu alongside mungbean pancakes. This is all to be eaten with shots of soju, Korea’s national drink. There are two sojuvarieties: “original,” which is 20.1% alcohol, and “fresh,” which is slightly less challenging at 19.5%. Both taste like paint thinner to me, but I manage a few shots. Everyone around us is downing sojulike water. Meanwhile, the eggy, protein- and vegetable-rich pancakes are just the healthy, salty type of thing that goes down well with drinking.

At the end of the night, I’m not only full, warm and a bit drunk — I also feel like I’ve tasted the best food in town without feeling like a dumb tourist. Dan has been fabulous company. During my next trip to Korea I’ll definitely take his daytime market tour – but I think I’ll skip the live octopus.

For more information on O’ngo Food Communications: www.ongofood.com.

Video: Eating live octopus in Korea (Warning: Graphic)

by Stephen Greenwood on

•••
The team here at Gadling has seen our fair share of shocking internet videos, and some of us have worked up the courage to eat some pretty questionable fare during our travels, but this clip from Fuel TV’s Strangers in Danger might just be the most revolting thing we’ve ever seen.

Eating live octopus, or san nachi is widely practiced in South Korea, but the octopi being served are typically small enough to be wrapped around chopsticks and eaten in one bite. In this graphic clip, BMX pros “Catfish” Yankush and Mike “Rooftop” Escamilla decided to take it to a new extreme by choking down some unusually large cephalopods – with mixed results.

If you’re hungry for more, check out what the guys decide to do at Korea’s DMZ after the break; or catch the full episode tonight at 10:30PM E/P on Fuel TV and tune in every Tuesday as these two athletes travel through 13 different countries to take on the best, worst, & wildest challenges in each culture.