North Korean cuisine shares a resemblance with that of the South.

 

North Korean cuisine shares a resemblance with that of the South.

 

The famous Pyongyang Crabapple remains closed after Kim Jong-il's death. Photo: Guo Yingguang/GT

With the whole world watching North Korea in the wake of Kim Jong-il's death last week, the lives of the citizens he left behind remain a mystery to outsiders.

The North Korean restaurants in China are probably the only place where ordinary Chinese people can see or interact with its citizens, and most of them are closed at the moment to mourn the death of Kim Jong-il.

The most popular of these chains, Pyongyang Crabapple, which has three locations in Beijing, remained closed as of Sunday, and the staff member who answered the phone said the date for resuming business is unknown. An employee of Pingrangguan (Pyongyang Restaurant) near Chaoyang Park told the Global Times they would reopen "probably next year."

Some restaurants, for example Pyongyang Mudan Feng at the Media Center near Dawang Road in Beijing, have reopened to customers again, although live performances have not resumed yet.

The restaurant décor and the food that is served, from cold noodles, to barbecue, to dog meat casserole, are so similar to those of a South Korean restaurant, you might not know where you are until you see the blue and red flag with a star at its center pinned to the lapel of your server.

In these franchises, the waitresses, who are all from North Korea, generally speak enough Chinese to take an order, but might not be able to tell curious customers more about their country.

Compared with the crying faces of North Koreans seen in the media over the past few days, the waitresses appear calm and peaceful, the only sign of their mourning being a black apron over their usual work clothes, a traditional colorful knee-length hanbok, or choson-ot.

If you search for "North Korean restaurants" on Baidu, the results invariably feature the terms "good-looking girls," "a bit pricy" and "live performances."

But anyone who has been to a North Korean restaurant would advise you not to ask personal questions or bring up politics unless you want to be asked to leave. Most people agree that the waitresses are usually pretty, soft-spoken and polite, but not necessarily friendly.

"The whole atmosphere feels a bit too serious, compared with South Korean restaurants," Ding Jia, who had just dined in a North Korean restaurant in Shanghai, shared her feelings with the Global Times.

"The waitresses are considerate in their service but tend to be quiet and they don't really smile. They are willing to talk about the restaurant's specialties, and that's all," Ding added.

There have been many speculations about the mysterious waitresses in North Korean restaurants, which are said to be managed by or linked to the government.

Some people say that those young women, who, in addition to being attentive servers, are also good at singing and dancing, were carefully selected probably to present a good image of North Korea. Some say that they are college students with good backgrounds who usually spend three years working here.

These presumptions could be wrong, and even if the truth remains unclear, it is certain that North Korean restaurants offer a rare glimpse to those who feel curious about the country and its people, especially South Koreans, who share the same language.

The Pyongyang Crabapple, Beijing's first North Korean restaurant, opened 13 years ago. It has always been a popular stop for South Koreans travelling through China who want an authentic meal from the Korean Peninsula.

To many, the biggest difference between the cuisine of North Korea and that of its neighbor to the south is its focus on cold noodles, or naengmyeon. This staple food is centrally featured on the menu of Pyongyang Mudan Feng, but South Korean Choi Jin-hee argues that her country's cuisine is nearly identical.

"The food is almost the same, except one time I saw a North Korean menu with an alcohol that is preserved with bear bones. We don't have that," she said.

Living in Beijing, Choi and her friends visit North Korean restaurants every once in a while. They began going out of curiosity, and they keep going back for the food.

"It was an interesting experience for me the first time. We spoke the same language, but could hear each other's accents. They were very kind but would not talk about their country at all," she said. "The Pyongyang Crabapple restaurant has nice kimchi. That's reason enough for me to go back."