Miga

One meal brought whole tiny anchovies nestled amid green rings of hot chiles. Another brought freshly pan-fried zucchini rounds stuffed with ground meat patties. And then there were the special crabs - chopped raw and cured in an elaborate soy-based "ge jang" gravy thickened with ginger and garlic - that harbor meat with a uniquely slippery, sushi texture that my Korean American guest said she covets (but I'm still learning to appreciate).

All this before the food we ordered!

Like many Korean restaurants, Miga's menu is huge, with both strengths and weaknesses. The place has many of the standards down pat, including the huge pajun pancakes, their crisp outsides and soft interiors laced with everything from seafood to tangy kimchi or beef and hot peppers. There is an excellent version of jap chae, the springy, clear, sweet potato noodles in lightly sweet dark sauce that, in the veggie rendition, came with the fantastic crunch of exotic, coral-like rehydrated mushrooms. The dduk bokki, tubular rice flour dumplings that resemble soft gnocchi, came in a vivid orange sauce tinged with red pepper powder that, in combination with the dumplings' pleasantly sticky chew, stoked Miga's hottest glow.

There were some dishes to miss. The complete sushi bar is adequate, but totally forgettable. The sundubu, a soft-tofu casserole that some restaurants (like Jong Ka Jib) specialize in, was just so-so, lacking the bubbling volcanic heat and custardy softness I prize. The Jae Yook Bosam, an unusual dish involving cold steamed pork and raw oysters made famous stateside by Chang, would have been great if the oysters hadn't been oddly semi-frozen.

It was a rare off-moment for a kitchen whose food vibrated with freshness. And it doesn't get fresher than the myriad "BBQ" meats the servers grill tableside before diners' eyes.

The city-mandated use of electric grills at Miga (instead of the fragrant charcoal braziers of North Philly) is definitely a detraction. But the grilled marinated meats are still hard to resist, like the pear and sesame-tinged galbi short rib strip that sizzles beside its bone (great to gnaw on). The bulgogi stir-fry of shaved beef and onions is so good, with its sweet and garlicky soy marinade, it's a wonder some Korean Philadelphian has yet to make the small fusion leap into a Korean cheesesteak. (With Korean "tacos" all the rage, why not a steak sandwich?)

But of course, Miga's ambitions are less about fusion than about paying homage to pure tradition. Perhaps that is why I most enjoyed those meats - thin slices of brisket, ribeye and thicker-cut pork belly - that came to the tabletop grill absolutely plain. They were seared to a golden brown and scissor-snipped by our waitress into hot morsels, and I dipped them in seasoned sesame oil, added dabs of sweet and funky ssamjang paste, spicy chips of raw garlic and chiles, then rolled it all into a crunchy lettuce package. This riot of distinctive flavors, textures and temperatures added up to an unexpected mouthful of cheek-bulging harmony, the ultimate sum of ingredients greater than its parts. Of course, it's also a daunting challenge to chew. But what's the rush? We've waited this long for a Center City Korean ambassador with the style and substance of Miga. These are flavors we should savor.