‘Dae-Bak’ factor is high at Uki
There’s potential for Uki Korean restaurant in Waterloo to be more than just another student joint
In Korean slang, “Dae-Bak” means “that’s amazing,” or, simply, “Wow!” That’s how we felt throughout our scratch-made dinner at Uki Korean restaurant in Waterloo.
They’re new, currently with an underdeveloped web and social media presence, and their walls are mostly bare. The shiny clean space is brightly lit and our server was welcoming and helpful. Mostly eschewing some of the better-known Korean offerings and — seemingly more-token — Japanese dishes we dove into the unfamiliar.
Korean food has never been a goto for me. Even a week in Seoul failed to change that view, the exception being an exposure to Banchan, that ubiquitous selection of small sides, grace notes accompanying any main dish. Sure, I’ve since enjoyed standards such as Bibimbap, Bulgogi and BBQ, but Kimchee’s left me cold no matter how many hipsters or grandmotherly artisans might have been involved in making it.
Uki’s sous-chef, Jay Lee, ably translated for me in post-dinner interactions with second-generation restaurateur, Ben Yu.
Yu came to Canada with his family in 2015 and worked five years at Ken’s Sushi. I learned the name Uki is both close to a Japanese word for snow and a serendipitous melding of the surnames of Yu and his wife. Cobbled together maybe, but it works as did every dish we sampled.
An iconic rice and vegetable dish, Bulgogi Bibimbab ($15), arrived with thinly sliced grilled beef topped with a fried egg. We dutifully applied house-made srirachalike, but less-salty hot sauce giving the whole thing a good stir. Along with smoky miso soup, it proved a fine start.
Juicy Seasoned Spicy Chicken came moments later ($20 for a half chicken. A full bird — priced at $31
— would have fed an entire K-pop crew). Pieces of bone-in bird were deep fried and encased in a shatteringly crisp, spicy-sweet glaze sprinkled with sesame seeds. A memorable dish.
We also opted for Gamjatang ($13.50), pork bone soup that takes a full day to produce. Little space remained on the table for the Jjim Dak ($27), which we were told would take 20 minutes to cook but appeared faster, a function perhaps of a kitchen that was not overly taxed despite a flow of takeout orders.
The soup was a favourite of my companion’s with a lot of meat to be excavated from bone crevices. Unlike many ramen bases, the broth was not in the least fatty, making for a comforting winter dish whose complexity circled back to simplicity.
Jjim Dak was an umami bomb including sweet potato, carrots, glass noodles, rice cake — the same texture as glutinous Japanese mochi — all cooked in Yu’s secret mixture of special sweet soy sauce with garlic, bay leaves and chilies.
The surprise was the chicken in the dish, which was not featured in the menu description. The word Dak translates to “chicken,” a nuance that eluded us. The portion of this, and other dishes, was copious and provided tasty leftovers.
Banchan included crisp, cubed daikon, sprouts, chili cucumber and, naturally, kimchee, made daily in house. Unlike my previous experience, Uki’s version was lightly pickled, slightly sweet, and delicate.
For now, Uki’s walk-in clientele appears to skew heavily to Korean patrons decorously enjoying their meals. Once Uki gets its liquor licence, I anticipate the place will become livelier. While most of the dishes would likely travel well — although I wonder how crispy the chicken would remain — as we know, the food is only part of the dining experience.
Plague permitting, there is no substitute for a meal taken in the establishment itself, where one becomes part of the ebb and flow of service and more deeply immersed in the cuisine being served.
Being present also led me to appreciate the steps taken to carefully clean up once diners departed. On the downside, every time a takeout order was picked up, I flinched at the loud, jarring door buzzer: I urge Uki to change theirs to a moremelodious tone.