With all the press this tiny Korean noodle place has gotten over the past couple of years, it's a wonder it isn't packed to overflowing all the time. You can still walk in and snag one of the six tables or four bar stools and dig into handmade Korean noodles, barbecued meats and seafood and kimchi-heavy dishes while watching the kitchen work like a high-performance engine. Sitting at the bar is recommended—the fascinating noodle-stretching process works like a giant rubber band, with a disc of dough pulled and folded over and over until it's the perfect width. Then it gets tossed into a pot of boiling water before ending up in a flaming sauté pan. Because the kitchen is small and there are just two cooks, don't expect lightning-fast service. This is a place to linger, and food will be served in stages.