By Tom Sietsema
Sunday, September 21, 2003

Never mind all those diplomatic license plates and the flags waving outside those mansions on Embassy Row. The most obvious sign that Washington is a world capital is its wealth of restaurants representing just about every corner of the globe, from East Asia to West Africa. Indeed, some countries, like Ethiopia and Thailand, seem to have as many restaurants here as there.

Admittedly, the city is short on the flavors of a few countries. I'd love to share the news of a Swedish restaurant in town, or a place to find a good Brazilian churrascaria without heading for the 'burbs, but no such thing exists. And until recently, if anyone inquired about jap chae or bulgogi, I'd point them in the direction of Northern Virginia, specifically Annandale, ground zero for Korean food in the area.

With the arrival of Yee Hwa in the District, I no longer have to send anyone across the river for a taste of those popular dishes. And its inviting interior and temperate prices make the decision that much easier.

Like the many Salvadoran restaurants that feel compelled to add Mexican recipes to attract customers -- as if a great pupusa weren't enough of a draw -- Yee Hwa devotes half its menu to Japanese dishes. Even in the best Korean restaurants in the area, however, my experience with non-Korean cooking has not been memorable, and the pattern continues here. Yee Hwa is not where you want to order sushi or tempura, especially since the excellent Kaz Sushi Bistro is within strolling distance. The raw fish at Yee Hwa is merely decent, the tempura fries up pale and ordinary, and the miso soup has been heavy with salt.

The food is served in a big, beautiful dining room, the kind of setting where you'd expect to pay much higher prices than you do at Yee Hwa. The ceiling soars, the woodwork is the color of honey, and the lilting background music gives your ears a nice break from the sounds of the city. Zones of privacy are created by frosted glass dividers etched with Korean characters; the tiered seating includes cozy booths and a number of tables inset with barbecues (although fans should note that the grills get heated up only at night).

Take your pick from boneless beef (bulgogi) or short ribs (kalbi), both marinated in soy sauce, ginger, garlic, sugar and more, then stir-cooked with mushrooms and onions before your eyes by an attentive server. It's an interactive form of dinner theater, and a great idea for a group. Once the meat is cooked, it's bundled with hot rice in crisp lettuce leaves, slathered with sweet chili paste and eaten like a burrito. Barbecue is something I never turn down in a Korean restaurant.

Hotheads might feel let down by this kitchen, which routinely tames the fire associated with some of Korea's best-known dishes, including kimchi, typically a blazing condiment made from fermented cabbage or other vegetables. Kimchi soup, for instance, starts out promising, with curls of steam and the aroma of garlic drifting from its brick-colored broth. But instead of searing the tongue, the liquid just teases it. The soup is still good, thick with creamy tofu, pork and cabbage. It's just not as exciting as I've had elsewhere.

Not everything in the Korean repertoire is hot, of course, and there are plenty of satisfying encounters that don't rely on spiciness for their charm. To begin, the kitchen offers dumplings plump with a mix of ground pork, beef and vegetables (take your pick between steamed or fried) and oysters bound in egg batter and fried into a hearty sort of omelet. The latter is colorful with chopped scallions and red peppers -- and pretty irresistible. But even more appealing, and plenty of fun for two or more to share, is the "pancake" laced with bits of squid, shrimp, baby octopus and scallions, cut into bite-size pieces and dipped into sesame sauce.

Like most Korean restaurants, Yee Hwa puts out free nibbles (panchan) at the beginning of a meal, a lovely ritual that can negate the need for appetizers. The little dishes, typically five at lunch and seven at night, change from day to day here, but might include crunchy-soft seaweed, glassy dried fish the size of needles, threads of lightly pickled radish and carrot, a couple of bites of omelet, and kimchi.

The servers are welcoming and attentive, but some have a better command of English than others. Your questions about the menu -- even something as basic as "What's in that?" -- may be met with blank stares, and the servers take it for granted that you know how to eat certain things.

Bibim bap, one of the most comforting of all dishes, provides a good illustration. It arrives in a big white bowl: a mound of warm rice decked out with a garden of vegetables -- shredded carrot, ribbons of cucumber, Korean watercress, chewy brown bracken fern (kosari) -- as well as a bit of crumbled beef and a gently cooked egg. If you've never tried bibim bap before, you might not know that the ingredients have to be stirred together at the table, to connect their sundry flavors, for the dish to be at its best. Once the yolk is broken, the warm egg helps moisten the rest of the elements; heat comes by way of chili paste, which you can add in whatever amount you wish. Blend your bibim bap well, and every bite will yield a weave of cool and hot, tame and not.

A meal at Yee Hwa concludes with a small bowl of cool, restorative, cinnamon-spiced punch and a bow or two from the staff as you depart. Together, they're just the right finish to a gentle show of fireworks in the city.