What kind of Bibbidy Bobbidy is this?

My analogy may not have been the best, but I still stood by my point.

Reba and I were discussing my lack of knowledge in regards to Korean food, and people who are not able to master the chopsticks. She said, "It just means they are uncultured." Uncultured? Moi?
I said it's like a Chinese man unable to rope cattle. Yeah, didn't really make sense to me, either.


Reba and I headed over the movie theater at 7ish to grab tickets to the 8:40 showing of Firewall and with time to kill we decided to go to Sam Hawk, a Korean restaurant, in Provo.
Although having had putenschnitzel in Munich, Germany and crème brûlée in Paris, France, I am not all that comfortable around restaurants of other cultures. (I have a hard enough time with English menus, hand me one I can't read and I'll probably start crying.) So when I attempted to order I ended up staring at the waitress with a goofy look on my face and pointing to a spot on the menu. And it was even in English! Sweet honk, I'm a nut.

While sipping my ice water and staring at the blank wall, I realized I was completely in Reba's legroom area. Taking over the undertablearea. This is thanks to what I like to call my cellist stance. My friend Amy and I once joked that you could easily tell who was the cellist and who was the flutist (don't call me on 'floutist', its flutist) by the way we sat. Her knees were very familiar with one another, while her legs angled away from her, with her feet placed just near a single chair leg. I, on the other hand, sat straight up, feet in front of me and shoulder width apart. ...One of my less feminine seated positions.

But I digress.

I sat with Reba, lusting over the awesome metal chopsticks, unsure of what exactly I had ordered. When the woman laid the sizzling stone bowl (the bibbidybobbidybibimap stonebowl) in front of me I looked at it, at Reba, at the woman, and back at the bowl. Uhhhh. What now? She handed me the small bowl of chile paste. Ok...uhhhh. She finally asked if I'd had this before, I told her no. She said something like unto (ah yes, let me remind you of my genius translations skills when it comes to accents) "You like spicy? Use chile paste. Egg needs be broke. Bowl is hot, mix now." UHHHHHHH...WHAT?! I stared at the bowl, then at Reba, then at the bowl. I picked up my spoon and tried to stir the huge pile of random ingredients before me. I made a mess. The woman walked by again and seeing my inablity to follow her instructions, proclaimed something at me that sounded like, "No! Egg needs be broke! Mix now!" HUH? She asked if she could do it for me, haha. So I sat there while this Korean woman reached over me, took my spoon, and started mashing at the egg on top. Hil.ar.i.ous.

I was very confused when she started placing tiny bowls in front of me, full of colorful yet weird things. Reba became my guinea pig as she took on the position of tasting each thing.


It was an interesting night.