On Sunday we got together with Kathryn (aka Catalina), a former student of mine. Kathryn lived and worked for a number of years in South Korea where she taught English. She suggested that we have lunch at a little Korean restaurant in the Cleveland suburb of Parma. We had forgotten that Sunday was Father's Day, and the place was packed when we arrived. We had to wait about 20 minutes for a table. The clientele was mainly people from Korea or of Korean descent, which was a good sign that the food is authentic. (The Korean community in Greater Cleveland number more than 5,5The dishes were identified on the menu with Korean characters, than transposed to our alphabet, and described in English. Kathryn was familiar with and had eaten most of the items when she lived there.
She ordered a very large bowl of soup (whose name I can't remember). It was a meal in itself.
We were puzzled by the pair of scissors that were placed on the table. She explained that the noodles in the soup are very long, and you cut them with the scissors.
We ordered two different types of Korean barbeque.
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