Heart and Seoul 2026 D1: The Road to Busan, Galbitang and Bulalohan

We lingered at Incheon International Airport, to wait for a while until daybreak. The sandwiches at Tous Les Jours looked appetizing, and pairing them with banana milk felt satisfying. Doing some quick mental math, I decided to get some snacks at the nearest CU, South Korea’s popular convenience store. Our welcome meal consisted of tuna mayo and bulgogi kimbap, banana milk, yogurt, and onigiri. It was filling enough to tide us over until breakfast at 8 AM.

And there we were in a Korean barbecue restaurant in downtown Incheon a few hours later, being embraced by the aroma of galbitang—clean, clear, a little tangy, and, strangely enough, a comfort food that reminded us of home. This dish of boiled beef, complete with tendons, bone marrow, scallions, and enoki mushrooms, is South Korea’s equivalent of our bulalo. The only difference I can think of is the rich and savory flavor with which we season our bone soup. Ah, and we put in a lot of vegetables too: potatoes, cabbage, pechay, sometimes corn and saba, even string beans. My Mama would put in all the vegetables I mentioned, especially when she was feeling generous on salary day. I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic and appreciative of this cross-cultural connection as I sat beside my grown-up children.

ARMY Daughter smacked her lips while Kuya raked in the side dishes that justified the bland but bracing clear soup of beef bone and tendons. I was sniffing halfway through mine when ARMY Daughter asked:

“Are you crying?”

“It’s the hot soup,” I replied. “It clears the nostrils.”

Our Tita ARMY friend, who seemed to have been reading my mind all along, spoke up.

“This dish is like our bulalo,” she said. “Did you see that one of the staff looked Pinoy?”

“What if he’s the cook who has learned to cook Korean dishes?” I wondered.

Tita ARMY quipped, “Taga-Tagaytay!”

I laughed and added, “Baka Batangueño?!”

It was then that ARMY Daughter asked, amused and curious, “Bakit Tagaytay?”

“Maraming bulalohan sa Tagaytay at bakahan, pati na rin sa Batangas,” I said.

Tita ARMY affirmed, “Punta ka sa Tagaytay!”

And I agreed right then and there. Galbitang, this humble and bracing dish, welcomed us weary travelers to Korean soil, only for us to talk about and remember bulalo, a dish that reminds us of hearth and home. If ever we can’t make a day trip to Tagaytay and dine in one of the bulalohan restaurants there, I will cook the dish the way my Mama cooks it, with all the vegetables I loved to eat then and now.

This is the inheritance I hope to share with my children: not merely a recipe or a food trip, but the memory of home carried from one table to another.

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