Philadelphia Weekly

When Mandoline closed recently, the blogosphere buzzed about what would take its place. Rumors swirled about an Amada burrito bar, but it was a Korean BYOB that wound up moving in--an apparent godsend for those seeking Korean fare that doesn't involve raw meat buffets and DIY barbecuing.

Furnished with exposed brick, black-and-white photos and an open kitchen, Meju is wrapped in an attractive (if not very Korean-looking) package that's a lick of Old City slick from owner Steve Cho, who also owns Double Shots coffeehouse just across Strawberry Street.

Meals begin with a complimentary banchan--traditional little tastes that showcase Korea's pickling obsession: fiery kimchi, cool cucumber wafers, chewy octopus, flaccid sprouts, fermented soy beans, half-moons of yellow daikon and excellent barbecued anchovies that chew like fish-flavored bubblegum. Throw in some mandu--six delicate steamed dumplings filled with shrimp and scallions--and it's looking like Meju might be an ethnic treasure in disguise.

But then the waiter doesn't know if they serve Diet Coke, and--oh jeez--here's my entree when I'm still mid-dumpling, and--hey, man, when you get a chance, do you think I could get another napk- ... but he's barreled off to another table that asks for decaf tea. Good luck with that, buddy.

Fresh chopsticks? Another fork, perhaps? Servers don't trouble themselves with such trifles. They're frighteningly efficient, though. Each meal at Meju lasts less than an hour in an onslaught of plates that drown the already small tabletops in a landslide of food.

The poor timing is unfortunate, because many of Meju's offerings are so tasty you'll want to linger over their singes of spice and thought-provoking twangs. The hae mul pa jun--savory pancakes with shrimp, calamari and scallions folded into the batter--makes you rethink what you know about breakfast. Stir-fried with onions and mushrooms, pork bulgogi benefits from a honeyed lacquer, while galbi (Korean-style short ribs) are tender and so flavorful I leave nothing but a pile of gnawed bones.

The bimbim bops are fresh and satisfying (and fun to say). Choose chicken, beef or perfect cubes of spongy tofu, and your protein is served over snowdrifts of rice with spinach, bean sprouts, carrots, scrambled egg and spicy-sweet Korean barbecue sauce. The dol-sot option cradles the ingredients in a heated stone bowl that spits and sizzles, leaving crunchy kernels of rice stuck to its bottom.

Portions at Meju are generous. I can't finish the lumpy mountain of duk bok gi--Korean rice cakes that aren't the Quaker paddies I expected. Dressed in rusty red pepper sauce, they have the texture of chewy gnocchi and resemble Styrofoam packing peanuts.

The pho-like yook gae jang is a fiery 4-quart affair rife with flank steak, vermicelli and cold-weather comfort. Halfway through, I'm hovering over the bowl, chopsticks in one hand, spoon in the other, sniffling like one of those balloon-headed, red-nosed tots from the Puffs tissues commercials. The soup comes with perfectly steamed rice that arrives 10 minutes after I've put down my spoon.

A Korean aloe drink also goes to work running freight trains through my sinus cavities. The refreshing tonic tastes like a liquified Bath & Body Works face mask, with little bits of aloe vera sliding up through the straw like bubble tea. I feel like it's a healthy alternative to the BYOB beer I've been drinking all night, until I glance at the nutrition facts and realize it contains approximately 5,000 calories.

You can make up for it by skipping dessert: green tea and red bean ice creams, drizzled with honey and Hershey's chocolate syrup, respectively. The ice cream sandwich in the shape of a fish is only slightly more appealing. Franklin Fountain anyone?

Meju
213 Chestnut St. 215.238.9403
Cuisine: Korean.
Hours: Tues.-Fri., 11:30am-3pm and 5-10pm; Sat.-Sun., 5-10pm.
Prices: $5.95-$13.95.
Sound advice: Serene.
Atmosphere: Urban shoebox.
Service: Charmingly inexperienced.
Food: Big flavors, bigger portions.