Petras

IT'S hard to find reasonably priced good western food in Korea. That, combined with the fact Wes and I really do enjoy Korean food immensely, has meant we've only eaten 'out' a handful of times over the past nine months. (Oh okay, I'll admit it. We've also turned into total stingy bastards. And proud of it, too.)
Last night we had a farewell dinner for our American friend Matthew, who has survived one year in The Gu.
Matthew is a vegetarian and had chosen Petras, a little middle eastern restaurant in Seoul, to celebrate his last supper.
Petras is a popular little place, located at the top of a very slippery and steep flight of stairs up a little laneway at the southern end of Itaewon's main street.
As much as I love Korean, I have been having enormous hankerings for something different, and also to have that experience of dining out. Eating in a Korean eatery just doesn't provide that same atmosphere.
Inside Petras was an absolute delight. Rustic lamps hung from the roof and earthy wallpaper featured camels and all things middle eastern. At the back of the room was a cupboard packed with shisha pipes, an activity which seems to be quite popular in Seoul at the moment. It was described on the menu as "jubbly bubbly," and, I was told, is basically tobacco cured with different fruits which you smoke through a tube attached to an enormous gold gleaming pot. A bit like a sophisticated bong, really. Apparently you can also smoke it without the tobacco, and can choose different flavours.

Back to the food - reading the menu was bliss. I didn't want the waiter to take it away! Entrees included babaganoush, lebnah, olive salad, falafel, hommus and flat bread. Mains were divided into meats and fruits. Meats offering dishes such as lamb kofta and fruits offering dishes such as apricot chicken.
With ingredients such as eggplant, walnuts, cumin, lemon and coriander, choice was difficult. I went vegetarian and chose falafel with a side of tabouli. The serve of falafel was enormous - eight discs sitting on a bed of lettuce and a small mound of cucumber and onion salad. The tabbouli was heaven - moist burgul, chunks of tomato and just the right amount of parsley so as not to be too grass-like.
Wes had a fragrant butter chicken stew which came sitting in a lovely little clay pot, with a side of brown rice. It was rich and creamy, and the herb chicken perfectly tender, pulling away easily from the bone.
We mopped up our communal hommus with flatbread, I sipped on mint tea and we people-watched on fellow westerners. ("Do you reckon they're English teachers"? "Definitely. They look geeky".)
It was all finished off with a drink at a groovy little cocktail bar. Can't get much better than that.