Korean-Mex
Merrill Shindler
Posted: June 19, 2009
LOS ANGELES—Go to the Web site for Kogi Korean BBQ (www.kogibbq.com) and you'll find a remarkable assortment of press clippings. Not just from local papers but from Newsweek, the New York Times, the Financial Times, and ABC Nightline. We're talking here about Korean-Mexican fast food sold from a pair of roach coaches—though the Kogi people did upgrade awhile back when they decided to serve their food at a venerable bar called The Alibi Room in Culver City. This is not the upscale pizzas of Wolfgang Puck or the exotic hand rolls of Nobu Matsuhisa. We're talking Korean short rib tacos and spicy Korean pork burritos—food that defines the funky fusion heart of Los Angeles.
It's also very much a child of the Age of New Media. To find out where the two Kogi BBQ trucks are going to be, you go to the Web site and look at the right hand column, which gives the times and locations for the week. Or go to twitter.com/kogibbq—where the Kogi-ites post tweets about what street corner or vacant lot they're calling home for the moment. Like the Hollywood mobs in The Day of the Locust (or perhaps like the lemming urge that drew so many of us to stand on the western edge of the continent looking out at the sea), we show up for the trucks long before they arrive. If Michael Jackson were to make an appearance at one of the Kogi stops, he wouldn't get more than a cursory glance. Having tasted the Kogi is the mark of the true foodie.
Kogi was born late one besotted night when Caroline Shin-Manguera (former food & beverage manager at the Four Seasons Hotel Beverly Hills) and her food & beverage director husband, Mark Manguera, realized—as have many in Los Angeles—that this is not a city where it's easy to find something good to eat in the wee hours of the morning. And so, a wild plan was born, something akin to the old Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland my-dad-has-a-barn-let's-put-on-a-play scenario.
They talked Cater Craft into letting them use a taco wagon, then talked former Trader Vic's and Rock Sugar chef Roy Choi into creating a multiethnic menu. The result was the Kogi Phenomenon—a floating frat bash that attracts acolytes and deejays, baby boomers, yups, bups, and members of Gen X, Y, and Z. The only requisite is a willingness to hang on an L.A. street at odd hours, with an equally odd crowd. That—and a taste for some serious spice on dishes like the signature taco packed with long-cooked short rib trimmings, topped with a choice of sesame/chile salsa roja, cabbage in Korean chile/soy vinaigrette and cilantro/green onion/lime relish. Or the burritos filled with the same meat as the tacos, mixed with hash browns, scrambled eggs, shredded cheddar and Jack cheeses, chopped onions, and cilantro. You want tofu? They got tofu too—possibly better than any tofu you've ever eaten.
Actually, though it was an overnight sensation, that first night didn't begin all that well. Shin-Manguera, Manguera, and Choi (along with a steadily growing crew of friends and family) gave the truck a test run by taking it to stylish West Hollywood. Shin-Manguera says they parked the truck on a busy thoroughfare, started grilling, and the reaction was an unambiguous "what's this taco truck doing in West Hollywood?"
"Nobody would buy a taco," she admits. "So, we started giving them out for free. For weeks, we made no money at all."
Then they came up with the notion of parking next to the nightclubs and bars of Hollywood. They fed the bouncers for free. And when the trendies emerged from the clubs at the end of a night of Cosmos and Green Apples, they'd grab dishes like grilled asparagus in a peppery sauce topped with nectarines, along with the tacos and burritos. The buzz grew fast and loud. Suddenly, everyone wanted to have the Kogi experience.
And they were able to have it, thanks to the Internet—which the owners credit with making Kogi what it is. Shin-Manguera says, "If it weren't for the Internet, we'd be in the hole for who knows how much. We all had other jobs, which we held on to. After our day jobs, we went to the truck, worked till two in the morning. And then, we went viral. We don't try to control it. It has its flow, and we're along for the ride."
