Pete Townshend was 20 when he wrote "My Generation" with the line, "I hope I die before I get old." "Old" being relative, most people that age probably peg a 30-year-old as old. But let’s be generous here and set the outer limit at 35. In this case, whether you were born before or after 1977 might determine whether you will be enamored by Red House.

A friend of mine forwarded me a diatribe being circulated on the Internet about being a 36-year-oldster and growing up without the advantages of youths today. It reads, in part: "There was no email!! We had to actually write somebody a letter — with a pen! Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox, and it would take like a week to get there! … There weren’t any freakin’ cell phones either. If you left the house, you just didn’t make a damn call or receive one. You actually had to be out of touch with your ‘friends.’ OH MY GOSH!!! Think of the horror … not being in touch with someone 24/7!!!"

Red House is made for a generation that grew up amid the multimedia blitz of portable games, phones and social media that allows them to take in all and filter out the extraneous. A huge rack full of Asian celebrity magazines covers a wall at the restaurant’s entrance, as if a diner needs the same distraction as those waiting in a doctor’s office or salon. I wondered who would pick up those magazines, but on my second visit, young foreign-born Asians gravitated to those racks.

Like Ni Hao before it, the locally owned Red House offers what for Hawaii is an experimental menu, but where Ni Hao mixed Chinese and Korean cuisine, Red House fuses Korean with elements of the Americas in a clublike setting, with one wall serving as a screen for K-pop videos and the attendant blare of saccharine pop.

I found it hard to avoid staring at the hypnotic screen, so on my second visit I sat near the windows so it wouldn’t be in my line of sight. I saw other oldsters sit down for a while, then move to my side of the room, likely for the same reason. The 20-somethings, on the other hand, were unfazed by the screen and loud music, just chomping and talking away. It helps that there’s a lot to eat here. Meat portions are huge, intended for a communal pupu experience, accompanied by soju, beer or Korean rice wine.

I was lulled into thinking portions were normal-sized after ordering a skimpy dish of chive pancakes, $6 for eight thin triangles neatly arranged pupu style, with a bare hint of chives. (For $10 you get twice as much. See photo.)Then, following up on the rise of the taco trucks, came the bulgogi wrap ($10), with soy-, garlic- and sesame-marinated meat rolled into two flour tortillas. This was one of my favorite dishes, showing that one culture’s spicy beef can substitute for another’s.

Beyond that, dishes can be huge, intending to serve two or three. You might try ordering a couple of dishes to start, and add on as you go, until you get a feel for portion sizes.

Among the dishes meant to be shared is the tonkatsu pizza, topped with mozzarella, a few slivers of bell peppers and light brown gravy. The mozzarella gave it the right flavor, and this dish will make you think of pizza in a new way. Here, the breading is a substitute for the crispy crust, with the pork in between the layers, rather than presented as a topping. Photos cannot convey the size of this creation. It comes on an oval pizza-size platter, and, comprising three large pieces of tonkatsu, it is equivalent to a small- to medium-size pizza. Share it with a couple of friends.

Kalbi ($24), stone-grill beef, arrives sizzling in bite-size pieces for two to four to share. It comes with a side helping of sliced kabocha.

Groups can also pick at one of the house specialties of Red House moa, morsels of chicken served up in crispy batter or Korean style, drenched in a sweet-spicy sauce ($26). The batter was not crisp enough to hold up to the heavy sauce, so I prefer the drier version. You can get deep-fried chicken "fingers" billed as Moa Tender ($10), which come with a small plate of yellow-curry flavored panko for dipping or sprinkling over the chicken. I think it’s another dish destined to become a favorite with many local diners.

Tofu stews ($12 to $16) and topokki, or rice cake in the shape of small cylinders, round out the menu. You can get a pile of topokki for snacking for $14 to $20, coated with a variety of sauces, from a go-to gochujang sauce to cream sauce.

Those always on the lookout for something new will find much here to buzz about on their social-media networks, but traditionalists will find little reason for straying from their favorite spots.

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Nadine Kam’s restaurant reviews are conducted anonymously and paid for by the Star-Advertiser. Reach her at nkam@staradvertiser.com.