NVM Review

By Warren Rojas

Food: 6.6 Ambiance: 6.0 Service: 6.0

Some might dismiss the string of neon orange and green lights outside Yechon as so much window dressing. But to ethnic-dining scouts and ravenous night owls, that same pastel glow serves as a beacon for those in search of sustenance during the witching hours.

The all-night venue specializes in Korean barbecue (typically prepared on tabletop grills) and Japanese sushi (hand rolled by dedicated personnel).

Crowds tend to skew majority Asian, but the ranks of in-the-know Westerners seem to be growing daily—with good reason.

A scathing codfish-and-tofu soup sweats the toxins right out of you. Short ribs arrive lacquered in a fiery marinade (fresh pepper flakes cling to the grill-marked flesh). A mammoth seafood omelet envelops shrimp, fresh octopus and whole scallions in a crispy shell.

By Warren Rojas

Watching the constant stream of bubbling clay pots shoot out of the kitchen while glistening meats sizzle to perfection at surrounding tables, it’s not hard to fathom how Yechon stays busy morning, noon and night.

An all-hours haven for barbecue junkies of all nationalities—Asian diners tend to outnumber Westerners roughly 4-to-1—Yechon specializes in traditional Korean and Japanese cuisine. Raw fish fans crowd the sushi counter on the far left of the quaint but bustling restaurant, while larger groups can seek solace in one of the semi-private chambers carved into the rear wall.

Regulars, however, know the real action takes place in the central dining room.

Seconds after being seated, the banchan parade begins, as waitresses dutifully shove tantalizing portions of pickled everything—including cured anchovies, spicy bean sprouts, chunky-style peanut sauces, cubed beets and traditional kimchi—onto every usable square inch of your table.

Fried dumplings yield a purse of ground pork enveloped by bronzed dough. A knockout seafood stew (hae mul dolsot bibim bap) reveals a grand casserole of shrimp, squid and jumbo vegetables brought to steaming greatness. Addictive short ribs (bul gogi) deliver a succession of soy sauce, garlic and caramelized sugar across the palate. Meanwhile, a made-to-order barbecue feast begins with a spider web of marinated pork shorn to bits by your server and tossed on the hideaway cook top at the center of every table, and usually doesn’t end until someone shovels the last strips of white-hot swine into any remaining lettuce leaves and gleefully wolfs it all down.