We are three women alone in Koreatown, and we have a problem. Our favorite Korean BBQ place, Chung Ki Wa, is only safely approached with a minimum of four people, preferably four very large people who haven’t eaten in seven or eight days. With our measly numbers and appetites, we’re going to need alternate dinner arrangements.

We scan the horizon in the fading evening light. Few of the signs are in English, which we’re quite sure is a good sign, but does limit our ability to make quality educated guesses. We’ve narrowed it down to not picking any place that only has plastic chairs. This is not exceptionally helpful.

“I ate at this really great place about three years ago,” I venture to my dining companions, one of whom is also named Ashley, making us Thing 1 and Thing 2. “It was around here somewhere.”

“Great,” they say. “What was it called?”

“It didn’t have a sign.”

“Mmm-kay. What street was it on?”

“Uh. Olympic? Maybe? It was near some tall buildings.”

The hope in their eyes fades. They begin discussing backup arrangements. Fortunately, I have the car keys and am not yet ready to lie down for the count.

“It was in a strip mall,” I continue, passing restaurant after restaurant. “On the left. In the corner.”

The companion Not-Named-Ashley is starting to make guttural hunger noises. Thing 2 mentions she skipped lunch.

“It was one story!” I declare, as though that's going to narrow it right down.

The look are their faces is clear. I have gone off the deep end. I am driving them deeper and deeper into Koreatown on a fool’s errand, one kimchi away from railing at the great white whale.

And then…

“Wait, is that it?” Thing 2 points to a poorly lit, one story strip mall, L-shaped with a restaurant tucked in the crook.

“Yes! Yes!” I holler, making a hard left and throwing it into park up against the curb.

They are very impressed. I am very impressed.

The food is incredible. The pork drips a spicy red sauce that comes close to being a conversion experience. The bottle of rice wine we polish off contributes to the religious fervor.

I was wrong about one thing. There is a sign. Unlit and in Korean. I ask someone how to pronounce it on the way out. I try to mimic her. After three tries, she gives up and hands me a card with it spelled out phonetically in English characters. This helps. And next time, I’ll know where I’m going.