As cuisines migrate around the world, they often blend with local tastes to cater for the less adventurous. But for the genuine food lover, it is the real thing that appeals, as Pauline D. Loh finds out in Beijing.

He has been in Beijing for 15 years, he says, and still speaks with a slight accent that testifies to the fact. Chary Jo, from South Korea, is restaurant manager of the Yun Hai Korean Restaurant inside the Kunlun Hotel in Beijing.

His mission, he says, is to guard the true tastes of home.

That is why he is always talking to the chefs at Yun Hai and talking to the diners, explaining the finer points of cooking and eating Korean. Occasionally, he even finds himself apologizing if he feels the ingredients are not quite up to Seoul standards.

Jo doesn't have to worry too much.

Yun Hai sticks close to the real flavors, unlike many Korean eateries in Beijing which almost solely cater to the local love of barbecued meats and hot, spicy pickles.

I decided to assess its authenticity by ordering what I feel is the ultimate litmus test for good Korean restaurants - raw beef salad with Korean pear and garlic chips, a sort of Asian beef tartar.

First, it always indicates how much attention the chef pays to the ingredients.

The meat has to be top quality. Then it has to be quickly prepared, with enough speed so it arrives at the table still so well chilled and you can still feel the ice crystals in the beef julienne at first bite.

Next, the doenjang or beanpaste must be just right, neither too sweet, too spicy nor too salty. The lone egg yolk that tops the little hill of raw beef must be so fresh that it can stand on its own and the whole salad, when thoroughly mixed, should be tempting enough that you cannot stop eating.

I liked that the portion at Yun Hai was also just large enough to satisfy and there were no leftovers that day. It was very quickly demolished and a very clean plate went back into the kitchen as testimony to its goodness.

Instead of the usual little platters that adorn the table, Yun Hai serves its appetizers in a large porcelain carousel, which pleases the eye and whets the appetite.

They did provide a separate serving of cabbage kimchi, which we would eat together with the barbecued beef short ribs and pork belly. It was a thoughtful gesture.

For the bulgogi, diners are asked if they would like to barbecue the meats at the table or choose to have it done in the kitchen and brought in, if they prefer not to have the smell of smoke clinging on their clothes and hair.

The beef short ribs were tasty and tender, and although the pork seemed pretty fatty, the grilling rendered the slices into moist morsels.

A large bowl of salad leaves and a selection of sauces accompanied the meat, and we happily wrapped up with lettuce, watermelon radishes and carrots, with the requisite cabbage kimchi sandwiched inside as well.

It does take practice to be able to cram the whole package into your mouth, but it's Beijing, and you are allowed to divide the meat and vegetable wraps into two mouthfuls.

There is one other dish I enjoyed very much, which is the deceptively simple fried bean vermicelli that Jo says is a Korean court dish. The translucent noodles were very well flavored and it is a refreshing palate pleaser for those inclined to less meat in the diet.

There are two other classics that Yun Hai does well. At least, they brought back memories of shopping breaks at Namdaemun, and the little eateries of Seoul.

I am not fond of raw spring onions, but the whole strips of shallot greens that lined the beautiful golden pancakes were surprisingly tender and sweet, and the little bites of chopped-up squid tentacles was a tactile contrast with the soft, eggy batter.

The other dish is bibimbap, the only Korean staple dish I can both pronounce and spell without going to the dictionary.

Jo was on hand to mix up the stone-pot rice properly. The secret is a light hand so you do not squash the vegetables, but softly fold them into the hot rice. And, I noticed, he avoided scraping the bottom of the bowl.

We understood why when, on second helpings, we found the residual heat had crisped the rice at the bottom into nice crunchy crusts.

Eating is as much about sharing culture as filling hunger, and when you choose to eat a cuisine from another country, it is to experience a difference in lifestyle.

Color, taste, texture and in a certain sense, ritual, are what make Korean food special. And at Yun Hai, the tradition is indeed carefully guarded by a culinary ambassador.

Contact the writer at paulined@chinadaily.com.cn.

(China Daily 11/23/2013 page12)