For every three massive, two-floor, fluorescent-lit eateries in Koreatown, there is one restaurant like this: small and wooden, it teems with mostly twentysomethings, either standing in a long, amorphous line or crammed elbow-to-elbow at tables. The scene is as raucous as its food is satisfying. The lively little dishes—cubes of tangy, spicy pickled turnip, for instance, or strips of chewy, sweet-dried catfish—that appear when you sit down are an auspicious beginning and suggest that any of the stews, noodles, and casseroles listed on the extensive menu will also make a fine meal. Most do: Seafood pancakes are crispy and laced with tender squid; gobdol bibimbap achieves a properly crunchy bottom. The disorientation that sets in after a few bottles of soju might even steer you away from standard fare and toward a bubbling-hot stew of oxtails floating with purplish chunks of blood. Embrace it—it’s fiery and fabulous.