The first time I set foot on Barnard College’s campus, I fell instantly in love. At the time, I was living near Lincoln Center, amid the hustle-bustle of the city. I loved that area, and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But when I emerged from the subway at 116th Street, it was like walking into a different world — a village within the city. Something just clicked for me.

I was still in the city, still close to everything, but the pace of life in Morningside Heights was a little slower … a little more suburban. And as I learned more about the school itself, I decided it was perfect. Just perfect.

Three months later, I moved into a dorm at Barnard. It was the spring semester, and although I was so excited to be there, I was also nervous and a little shy about everything. Thank goodness for good roommates. I lived with four people — three girls and a guy — and they were all so inviting and nice. Even when I wasn’t sure how to befriend them, they dragged me out and included me.

Two of those roommates are still among my closest friends, more than 10 years later.

Those same wonderful roommates also introduced me to the amazing world of Korean cuisine. If I close my eyes, I can take myself back to that first encounter. I was a little scared (new food! eek!) and a little apprehensive. But I asked my friends what I should try and took their advice.

The only problem with this whole thing? I loved that dish so much that I have never had anything else Korean. That first dish turned out to be an amazing, life-altering flavor experience. It was Bi Bim Bap (or bibimbap), a rice dish, sometimes served in a hot stone pot. Warm veggies, often sauteed and lightly seasoned, top the rice and then there is a fried egg on top of it all. Sometimes it’s served with beef too. Then you add some red chili paste. Oh, it’s divine.

At the restaurant we used to go to near the Barnard and Columbia campus, they would bring out these steaming hot stone pots, and we’d stir them vigorously, adding copious amounts of the red chili paste. It was a thrilling flavor experience. Every bite, from the tender beginnings to the crispy rice at the bottom of the bowl, was fabulous.

Unfortunately, I don’t often get back to that restaurant (or any other Korean restaurant), since I live and work in Connecticut, where there is a definitive lack of Korean cuisine. Yes, there are a few restaurants in New Haven and Hartford, but none are close enough to my house to warrant a trip.

Fortunately, I am all about adapting favorite dishes to be more accessible, and this one was perfect for that.

I’ve traded the hot stone pot (really, folks, that’s awesome at the restaurant, but not so much at home) for a more sensible bowl. The veggies are narrowed to just a few and served mostly raw. The egg is poached, instead of fried, since I find poached eggs easier to make. But the resulting dish? Absolutely divine. In fact, when I served it to Will and Paige (minus the Sriracha), they loved it. And Will begged for me to make some for his lunch the next day for school.

So, how do you make this Bi Bim Bap wanna-be dish ultra simple? It’s all in the prep.

• Make the rice first. I use a rice cooker, and it takes about an hour.
• Once the rice is nearly done, julienne-cut the veggies. This can be done really fast if you use a food processor fitted with a julienne blade or a mandolin fitted with a julienne blade.
• Use frozen chopped spinach. Simply heat 1 tbsp of olive oil and add two crushed cloves of garlic. Stir in the spinach, cover and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring twice.
• Have all the veggies cooked and ready when you slide the eggs into the water for poaching.

Korean-Inspired Rice Bowl
serves 4

4 cups cooked white rice
2-3 carrots, peeled and julienned
1 yellow bell pepper, julienned
1 cup chopped spinach, sauteed with two cloves garlic
4 large eggs, poached
Sriracha, to taste

Divide the rice evenly among four bowls. Top with carrots, yellow pepper, sauteed spinach and one poached egg each. Drizzle with Sriracha (if desired), and stir vigorously to combine.

Serve immediately.

There was one semester where we had Wrapp Factory for dinner at least twice a week. It was fantastic. The wraps were big and bursting with rice and things like teriyaki or jerk chicken. They made the wrap a meal. Mmmm. And their smoothies were great too, if we were in the mood for that — and had the extra cash.

In the past years, a great Chinese place, Empire Dynasty, closed. Our beloved Ethiopian restaurant Zula was shuttered too. Our local market, the West Side Market, closed and opened again. The student center where we got our mail was razed to make way for an enormous new student center and school building. It’s just amazing how much things can change . . .

Every time I hear about another neighborhood change, it’s like another of the tiny stings that tie the still youthful me to my college days is snipped. In my mind, the neighborhood should never change, because it was good as it was — with scaffolding and redevelopment and imperfectness — and because that was how it was when my class was there.

But I know that things do change, whether we want them to or not. The school will finish its new Nexus perhaps in the next year. A new class will enter the hallowed halls of Barnard in the fall, with a newer neighborhood than the one I lived in. They will laugh with friends as they cross the same College Walk, going to different take-out joints but attending the same classes. They are smelling the same scents of city life, but gazing with a younger, newer, fresher outlook. It’s new and it’s old. It’s the same and it’s different.

I can never get my experience back. No matter how much I would love to return to my college days, I can’t. The imperfect neighborhood and the imperfect me can only move forward and change with the times. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to be — if only for a day or two — that young woman free in the big city with infinite options and possibilities all around again.

For starters, just seeing people at this restaurant was a good sign to me. There were people coming and going, and a number of tables filled in the small space. That’s a huge improvement from the restaurants that filled those spots when I was a Plimpton resident five years ago.

Looking at the menu, it was difficult to choose just one sandwich. There are so many varied and unique combinations. The Arzu, for instance, combines smoked ham, goat cheese and pesto. The Andrea on the other hand has sliced Bartlett pears, brie cheese, arugula, toasted pine nuts and honey. I chose to try to the Ronaldo, which features Parma proscuitto, mozzerella di Bufala, tomato and extra virgin olive oil.

It was delightful. The flavors blended and melded together in such a glorious fusion that I couldn’t believe my mouth. It was creamy and savory all at once…Oh I am salivating just remembering it. I wholeheartedly recommend this place.

This originally appeared on Cucina Bella Reviews.

There was Zula, the Ethiopian restaurant that has since closed, where my friends and I would share great vegetarian dishes and eat until we were stuffed. Then, we’d order rum cake to top it off. I was so sad to learn that it had closed. I really want to locate another Ethiopian restaurant since that ranks among my favorite food.

Then there was Mill Korean at 2895 Broadway. Fortunately that is still there, and still serving the streaming Bi Bim Bap in a hot stone crock. I have never tried anything else there because that was just so delicious with the red chili sauce stirred in. If I remember correctly, that was the first restaurant my roommates and I went to when I started school at Barnard in the Spring 1999 semester.

I would be remiss to forget Saigon Grill, located at 1700 2nd Avenue on the Eastside and at 620 Amsterdam Avenue on the Westside. Their chicken satay with peanut sauce is to die for. Served over rice noodles, I just cannot get enough of it.

Of course, Che Bella at 1215 Amsterdam Avenue makes a good pizza. And Wrapp Factory at 2857 Broadway makes a mean (and large) wrap. (Update 8/2008: Wrapp Factory has closed.)