Hahm Ji Bach is a robust Korean family-style barbecue on 149th Place in Flushing, Queens, with room for 150 diners and tables with built-in grills. But during the World Cup, especially when South Korea is playing, Ham Ji Bach bustles with people indulging together, as well as single eaters with giant portions at tables for one.
“Today it’s all me,” said Kevin Cho, an off-duty waiter, as he held a giant South Korean flag over his spicy pork belly and grilled tofu. “Korea plays, so I eat like a monster.”
Yoon Kim, the owner’s daughter, walked among the diners, most of them transfixed by one of three 60-inch televisions. “Here you experience food from the past and the present,” said Mrs. Kim, 44. “They want Korea, we give them Korea.”
“And your clothes will smell like barbecue when you get home,” a waitress added as she passed by with a tray of braised ribs.
IN THE SEATS Playing hooky were Oliver Delgado of Brooklyn, a marketing strategist; John Auw, of Corona, Queens, an elementary-school tutor; and James Franken, a technology specialist in town from North Carolina, all of them 34. It was the first time the three men had met. They are no strangers, however — they have been friends for 18 years.
“This is the first time we meet face to face,” Mr. Delgado said. They connected in an online chat room their first year in college, he explained. “We all lived in different states and hit it off,” said Mr. Delgado, who was a freshman in Delaware. “Been good friends ever since.”
The three used to trade favorite underground rap tunes with one another online. “Got to thank Masta Ace and Prince Paul for bringing us together,” Mr. Franken said as he sat mesmerized by the TV screen showing the game between South Korea and Russia. “Look at us now, 18 years later, watching World Cup soccer in Flushing.”
ON THE PLATES “If Korea’s playing, you get free beer,” said Mr. Delgado, who was on his third bottle. “Enough said.”
The men were drawn as much by the restaurant’s nationality as by its food. They made it a point to watch South Korea play at a Korean restaurant. They preferred it to Russian food.
“If you’re at some sports bar in Midtown, you’re not going to get this type of excitement,” Mr. Franken said. “You’ve got to go where people get crazy. Otherwise I’d watch it at my hotel lobby.”
They all shared two main courses: yachae jeon ($15), a potato-scallion pancake, and a platter of daepae samgyeopsal ($20), pork belly grilled right at the table. The raw, curled pieces were scorching hot in seconds, and were finished in minutes.
Accompanying the entrees was a smorgasbord of dipping sauces in tiny white bowls — bean powder, soy sauce, hot-pepper paste, scallion, squid, radish and soybean paste with lettuce.
To wash it down, each of the men had several Coors Light beers (free when Korea plays), an OB Golden Lager ($5) and a Heineken ($5). In between each gulp was a loud cheer from anxious bodies hoping for a goal.
WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT Rising laughter filled the table; it was halftime, and the score was still South Korea 0, Russia 0. The game ended in a 1-1 draw.
“He doesn’t like squid, and just ate squid not knowing it was squid, and liked it,” Mr. Delgado said as he and Mr. Auw pointed at Mr. Franken.
Mr. Franken squinted and shrugged as he went on to the next dipping bowl.
As they reminisced, they mused on why their long-distance friendship works so well. “We’re all hilarious people,” Mr. Auw said. “Conclusion. Case closed.”
Mr. Delgado invited Mr. Franken to his wedding years ago, but Mr. Franken could not attend. They once tried to meet in Philadelphia, but that plan failed as well.
“The World Cup in New York on June 17 was meant to be,” Mr. Delgado said.
So when will they meet again?
The three looked at one another and shrugged. They didn’t know.
“We’ll be fine,” Mr. Delgado said. “Plus, the only person I talk to more than these guys is my wife. We’re good.”
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