Mister Tiger

Audrey Young

Though Chicago’s food scene is impressive, I will admit that the city’s Korean cuisine is severely lacking. So, when I heard a new Korean restaurant had opened in January and prided itself on authenticity, I was eager to check it out.

Mister Tiger was opened by two siblings, Min Lee and Charlie Park, as an homage to their mother and grandmother. The menu features only items that were created by the two women and served to the siblings growing up—viral Korean foods such as bibimbap, but even lesser-known, locally loved foods such as galbijjim.

When entering the restaurant, the first thing you’ll see is the bar setup with a Korean art piece hanging behind it. I had never seen this style of Korean traditional drawing in such a modern setting, and I was surprised at how well it worked, lighting up the restaurant space. Once my friends and I were seated, though all of the tables were decently spaced apart, we immediately noticed how loud it was despite the restaurant not being completely full. It is likely that this has something to do with the venue itself, so there is little that can be done to fix it, but it is worth noting since my friends and I could barely hear each other throughout our meal, which took away a little from the experience.

The first thing that came out of our order was the Galbi Jjim (braised short rib). Back in Korea, Galbi Jjim is meant to be shared in large groups; even restaurant servings on the smaller side typically include around eight ribs. However, to our (a group of four’s) shock, the dish came out with three short ribs. After we got over the shock, we managed to split the meat pieces up evenly so that everyone could have a taste. The meat was tender and juicy, and the soy-based sauce it was submerged in was the perfect level of salty and sweet, which is rare, as many Korean dishes I’ve tried in Chicago were on the salty side. Overall, the execution of this dish was great, but the portion size was lacking.

Next came the Hot Stone Bibimbap, which ended up being my second favorite dish of the night. This dish was filled with rice, various vegetables, a fried egg, and bulgogi in a stone pot, with gochujang sauce on the side. The egg was cooked perfectly: authentically sunny-side up. The crispy rice that formed on the bottom of the bowl was delectable as well as a post-dish treat. There were no special add-ins or flavoring other than those fresh ingredients, and I think the simplicity is why I liked this dish so much. The ingredients and perfect preparation shone.

Soon came my favorite dish of the night: the jeyuk bokkeum, or Spicy Pork. This is typically a shareable dish in Korea, with one restaurant serving easily feeding at least two people. However, not to our surprise, Mister Tiger’s Spicy Pork came out on a tiny stone platter, probably consumable in four large spoonfuls. I did appreciate the stone platter serving, though, as it kept the meat warm for most of the meal. Additionally, the meat was perfectly spicy—less spicy than the spicy pork back at home, but definitely spicy enough. The cut-up green onions on top were a flavorful addition. They added a nice freshness to the cooked dish. We also got the Ssam Platter, a plate of assorted leafy greens, and extra bowls of white rice, which turned out to be must-have pairings with the piquant Spicy Pork. Though the Ssam Platter only came with exactly four pieces of each leafy green and a relatively small bowl of rice, each assembled rice-ssam–pork-sauce bite was flavorful, juicy, and delicious. Too bad the portion was incredibly tiny!

Lastly, we got their one and only dessert item: the Dalgona ice cream. We got one scoop of vanilla and green tea each, and they were both solid flavors (I mean, can you ever go wrong with ice cream?). The ice cream came topped with dalgona pieces, the Korean version of honeycomb, and misugaru, or multi-grain powder. Unfortunately, I could not taste the misugaru at all (and could barely see it on the ice cream too), but the dalgona was standard: there was no burnt or excessive baking soda taste that can be a common pitfall.