Ban Di Bul

It isn’t anything in Korean, but according to trusty old Google Translate, Ban Di Bul means “tire in the street” in Malay. It’s an image that brings to mind the old pre-Howard Bernstein Manchester, when the skyline was flat and laws were optional. Ban Di Bul isn’t that, but it certainly belongs to another time. 

Inside, it’s all harsh lighting and industrial extractor fans – the kind of look that a thousand trend-chasing bars go for, but real. It’s also packed, with mainly twentysomethings from all different demographics, taking advantage of the reasonable prices for such a central location, and the fact that a meal here is just flat-out messabout fun.  

Word to the wise: don’t go overboard on the tabletop barbecue, otherwise the entire room will fill with smoke and you’ll get a telling off from the no-nonsense staff. Once burned, twice shy. 

But that’s part of the pleasure – while you’re waiting to get in, you’ll be hit by a barrage of caramelising aromas and Maillard reactions. 

The cook-it-yourself part of the menu has all the required Korean BBQ fare: bulgogi, aka thin strips of beef soaked in soy, and samgyeopsal (pork belly), as well as various vegetables, prepped and ready to be blasted with heat and added to a little lettuce roll with as much fiery gochujang sauce as you dare. 

If you’re lazy or not feeling the DIY side, you can order ready-made dishes, but you’ll be missing out on a large part of the fun. That said, the kimchi pancakes are a must for fermentation fans. 

The food quality at Ban Di Bul won’t win any awards – don’t expect to find the name of the cow on the menu. But it’s not about that. It’s about cranking up the well-worn hob and flinging meat, seafood and vegetables at it, then gobbling before they lose a single Kelvin of heat.