Chicken and beer have become serious institutions in South Korea. Korean style fried chicken started showing up around 1970, when cooking oil became more affordable. In the 1980s and 1990s, chicken “hofs” that served deep fried chicken and beer popped up everywhere. This was likely due to early forced retirement for mid-level managers in Korea Inc.’s chaebol conglomerates. Chicken hofs were sold as turnkey business solutions. Since so many opened on every corner, Koreans started going to them because they were there. These days, there are more chicken franchise locations in Korea than there are McDonald’s in the entire world.
The chicken hof has gone through phases. I’m a personal fan of the 1990s style. Small free range birds with papery breading and strong Asian aromatic flavors. Or as one chef I shared chicken with said, smelled like a cinnamon doughnut. The more modern style is closer to American fried chicken, dipped in a flour breading with all the nooks and crannies. There are a few franchises I like from this vein as well.
To sauce or not to sauce?
People debate whether Korean fried chicken needs sauce. I like to just get plain fried with some Yangnyeom Sauce on the side. “Yangnyeom” just means “seasoned” or “flavored.” In the Korean chicken realm it’s a sweet, garlicky, sticky, slightly spicy sauce.
Other popular flavors are soy sauce, buldalk “fire chicken,” and my other favorite, garlic chicken. This was invented in 1997 in the blue collar neighborhood near Daerim Station. Chopped garlic is stewed all day. After frying the chicken it’s baptized in this garlic mixture. Pure heaven!
How to know if it’s good
My rule of thumb is this. To tell a good chicken place, look at the people inside. If it’s full of beautiful young women taking selfies, likely isn’t good chicken. If it’s full of middle-aged men who look like life has kicked them in the teeth–GREAT CHICKEN!
Here are some consistently good chicken franchises and spots. Add your favorites in the comments.
How to use this list
Chicken places come and go quickly. Most of the places on this list are franchises. To find a location near you, copy the Korean name and paste it into Google Maps, Naver Map, or Kakao Map.
The Authentic Chicken & Beer Pub Crawl
Don’t take the risk. Join us for a fun immersive romp for loads of chicken and lots of beer. Click to check the dates and prices.
This classic style chicken has been around since 1986. They are brined for 24 hours before being coated in a spicy powder, breaded, and fried. You can get their mild version. You can also get their spicy version with spicy sauce. It’s a good satisfying challenge.
Everyone knows my love for Two-Two. It’s one of the oldest franchises and the first taste I had of Korean fried chicken. The birds they use are bony, but that means they aren’t factory raised. They actually have flavor. The crust is thin, delicate, and has that Chinese five spice and cinnamon scent that I always associate with Korean chicken hofs. This chicken screams for beer.
This is the one most Americans think of when talking about Korean fried chicken. The thing is, Kyochon is the only franchise I know of that does it this way–batter dipped rather than rolled in flour or starch. The batter is garlicky with a slight sweetness. The crust shatters and stays crispy a long time. If you order it “yangnyeom” style, they meticulously paint the sauce on each piece individually. Caution–the breading really seals the contents inside. Expect a hot geyser of chicken juice to burst out in your first bite.
Pronounced Bee-bee-kyoo. It’s the king of chicken franchises in Korea. They follow the American style of frying, but their flavor is unique. Claiming to fry their chicken in olive oil, they obviously feel like they have to chase KFC. They boast over 20 herbs and spices. BBQ’s flavor is unique and hasn’t been copied. You can smell a BBQ a block away.
They specialize in classic style, but they also make a mean pa dalk, boneless fried chicken thighs served in a sweetish peanut sauce and shredded leeks. The other half of their name refers to golbaengi, sea snails. For some reason they think that chilled spicy sea snail noodle salad goes well with fried chicken.
It sorta does, TBH. Reminds me of trips to the beach in my earlier times in Korea.
It’s been going through a re-branding to appeal to a younger crowd (note the two logos).
I have been so excited about this. It’s been my new favorite, and I can’t get enough of it.
Chickens are spit roasted over wood. Then they’re served on a sizzling platter of crispy rice. Usually it’s served with this sweet hot mustard and radish stem kimchi. Every time I take anyone to one of these places, the chicken is gone like velociraptors entered the building.
This style of chicken is called nureungji tongdalk 누릉지통닭, literally “scorched rice fried chicken.” It comes from Gangwon Province and has been growing in the Seoul Metro area. Gyerimwon is but one chain. Most all the places that serve this that I’ve been to have been outstanding. You’ll know it by the rotisserie chickens in the window, the ream of oak logs out front, and this heavenly smoked chicken smell.
Always start off with the original nureungji tongdalk. Then play with other variations, usually smothered in cheese, curry, or some other sauce. This will be your new favorite chicken and beer pairing.
Hanchoo 한추
Style: Batter
Not really a franchise. It’s a popular spot in Gangnam. It’s popular for being popular, but it has its fans. They serve fried chili peppers with their chicken, which is their schtick. I’m putting it here because people I respect like it. I personally had bad ju-ju with the owners when we were arranging a TV show to shoot there. One of them said they didn’t want more foreigners in their restaurant. I know where I’m not welcome.
Going into oven chicken territory, Goobne (GOOB-nay) has been getting popular lately. And it’s good. Even though Korea’s gone through many “well-being” food fads, for some reason chicken hasn’t registered. A Korean co-worker of a friend of mine said that since the fried chicken she was eating was Korean, it was healthy.
Goobne has promoted itself as a healthy alternative to fried. All I know lately is that when we order it, it’s stripped to the bone like those Winged Devourers did on “Beastmaster.”
Dishonorable Mentions
Just to shake up the anthill, there are a couple fried chicken chains I’m not too fond of.
The modern style of Korean fried chicken just has no flavor, no soul. It is not much different than bland versions of American style fried chicken. The only thing that makes it Korean is that you can get it tossed in sauce.
Basic rule: avoid chicken places with gimmicks. Miniature tongs, finger condoms, beer served in Pyrex measuring cups.
Saenghwal Maekju appears as one of the newer chains capitalizing on the popularity of craft beer. Don’t expect much from the craft beer itself. It’s mediocre. The chicken is even worse. The other menu items–worser worser worser!
Seriously. Gelato on stale tortilla chips. I ordered this thinking, “If they have it on the menu, maybe they’re on to something. You know, like dipping salty fries into a Wendy’s Frosty.”
Nnnnope. It’s as if a five-year-old took over as menu consultant.
Most people think they’ve eaten galbi because they sat at a grill, flipped something shiny, wrapped it in lettuce, and left smelling like smoke. That assumption is common, understandable, and usually wrong.
Seoul has no shortage of BBQ restaurants that look convincing. Wood-paneled walls. Stainless exhaust pipes. A server with scissors moving quickly from table to table. The performance is familiar. The result is often forgettable.
What keeps mediocre galbi alive isn’t malice. It’s repetition. Once enough people accept the version in front of them, the original quietly steps aside.
Table of Contents
What Galbi Used to Mean
Galbi 갈비 means ribs. Not ribs as a flavor category, but ribs as structure.
Older Koreans still talk about wang-galbi without irony. Large ribs. Real bones. Meat that varies in thickness and shape because animals are not symmetrical. It bends on the grill. It resists the scissors once before giving way.
The bone is not decorative. It changes how heat travels. It slows the cook. It keeps the meat from drying out before the sugars in the marinade caramelize. You notice it most in the bite closest to the bone, where the flavor deepens instead of sweetening.
That style of galbi still exists, but it no longer dominates.
When Substitutes Become the Standard
At some point, practicality crept in.
Smaller cuts were easier to portion. Uniform shapes were easier to price. A clean bone added familiarity. Food-grade binding agents made it possible to attach one to the other.
Nothing about this is illegal. Nothing about it announces itself as wrong. Once marinated, grilled, and cut tableside, most diners never question it.
The scissors clatter. The smoke rises. The table fills. The difference disappears unless you’ve felt it before.
Cheap Galbi, Not as a Moral Problem
A friend of mine, Injoo, has spent years chasing cheap BBQ with a kind of cheerful persistence. Three-thousand-won pork belly. Five-thousand-won galbi. He treats new price points like rumors worth investigating.
Most of the time, the results are predictable.
One night, after a long day wrangling kids at a Halloween carnival, he suggested another bargain galbi place. I hesitated. Cheap galbi often means shortcuts, not because the owner is dishonest, but because something has to give.
This place held.
The grill came out empty. Then the charcoal arrived.
The Fire Chief Still Tells You Things
In older galbi houses, someone still handles the fire.
Charcoal comes fast and hot, dropped into the pit with the practiced indifference of repetition. Ash lifts into the air. Heat rolls across the table edge and into your sleeves. It smells sharp, unfiltered, and temporary.
Gas grills are tidy. Charcoal announces itself. You notice it later, on your jacket, when you think you’ve left dinner behind.
When the Meat Hits the Grill
The sound is dry and immediate. Sugar catches quickly. Soy and garlic darken if you hesitate. Fat drips, flashes, and sends smoke back up into the hood.
The scissors move fast. Metal clicks against metal. Pieces fall where they land.
This is usually the moment when substitutes reveal themselves, not through drama, but through texture. Uniform cuts behave politely. Real galbi pulls unevenly. One section yields. Another holds for a second longer.
You don’t need to know why to feel it.
About Rules, and the Lack of Them
Every few years, someone decides galbi needs etiquette. One lettuce leaf only. Garlic cooked but not raw. Sauce in a specific order.
None of that holds at the table.
Koreans eat galbi according to mood, appetite, and whatever is within reach. Garlic raw or grilled. One leaf or two. Kimchi folded into the wrap because it fits better that way.
There is one rule that does seem to persist. Don’t put your rice spoon into a shared stew. Everything else adjusts.
LA Galbi Has Its Own Story
LA galbi exists because butchers in the United States cut beef differently. The solution was to slice across the bone. Thinner meat. Faster cooking. Easier to handle.
It can be good. It is not a replacement for wang-galbi. It solves a different problem.
When a restaurant offers only this cut and presents it as tradition, it’s usually a sign of what they value most. Speed. Predictability. Familiarity.
Where Galbi Still Feels Like It Used To
You tend to find it in places that are slightly inconvenient.
Restaurants with uneven menus. Grills scarred from decades of use. Ventilation that rattles louder than the music. Tables filled with people who don’t photograph their food because they’ve eaten it before.
These places don’t announce themselves. They don’t need to.
You don’t stumble into them the way you once could. You notice them because something about the meal feels slower, heavier, more complete.
A Quiet Ending
None of this means you were fooled. It means the city changed around a dish that once had a narrower definition.
Galbi didn’t disappear. It loosened. It adapted. It learned to behave.
If you’ve eaten enough of it, eventually you notice when something feels different. Not worse exactly. Just smoother, easier, and oddly forgettable.
That recognition tends to arrive mid-meal, when the smoke hangs a little longer and the bone finally makes sense again.
This post was originally published on Oct. 29, 2005. Updated in 2026.
Move over Valentine’s Day; there’s a new Hallmark holiday in town—only instead of candy hearts, we get sizzling strips of pork belly. March 3rd is Samgyeopsal Day in South Korea, and yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like: an entire day dedicated to grilling fatty pork in all its glistening glory. If you’re surprised this is a thing, trust me—it’s as real as Korea’s obsession with four seasons once was.
The Pork-Backed Origin Story
Samgyeopsal Day didn’t spontaneously manifest from the communal soul of Korean culinary tradition. Instead, it was created back in 2003 by the Paju Yeoncheon Livestock Corporation—essentially the pig industry’s way of shouting, “Hey, we exist, please buy more pork!”
Why March 3rd? “Samgyeopsal” literally means “three-layered meat,” so the date 3/3 is a neat pun. Marketing genius, right?
Why do Koreans love it? Possibly because there’s a built-in excuse to eat more pork—and who doesn’t like a reason to binge on BBQ?
As cynical as that might sound, the holiday worked. It boosted domestic pork sales, propped up farmers, and before you knew it, it became an actual, if unofficial, tradition. Now we’re all telling our friends, “Happy Samgyeopsal Day!” like it’s the Year of the Pig or something.
From Pariah Meat to National Staple
Believe it or not, pork wasn’t always the superstar in Korean dining. Beef was traditionally held in higher esteem, but supply issues in the 1980s nudged the government to push pork onto the dinner table. Add in some corporate powerhouses like Samsung and Lotte getting into meat processing, plus scientific hog-raising methods (think less barnyard funk, more succulent slabs), and you’ve got the recipe for a “pork renaissance.” By the ’90s, samgyeopsal was the new normal for big nights out.
Why Does This Holiday Even Matter?
Economic Kudos: Pig farmers thrive on this annual sales boost. If Hallmark can bankroll Mother’s Day, pig farmers can do the same for Samgyeopsal.
Food Soul: Despite its marketing-engineered roots, the communal act of sharing grilled pork belly has genuine warmth. Like a good kimchi jjigae, it’s become a comfort food staple that feels authentically Korean—even if it started as a PR campaign.
How Koreans Celebrate Samgyeopsal Day
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Restaurant Promotions Expect your social media to blow up with “Samgyeopsal Day 50% OFF!” ads. If you’re a carnivorous bargain-hunter, this is your Christmas in March.
Home BBQ Feasts Got a portable grill and a decent ventilation system? Invite some friends, grab soju, and fill your house with the sweet smell of sizzling pork belly (just hope your neighbors don’t mind).
DIY Lettuce Wrap Stations A key part of samgyeopsal’s charm is how interactive it is: get your ssamjang, garlic slices, kimchi, and fresh lettuce (or perilla leaves), then wrap ‘em up. It’s build-your-own taco, Korean-style.
Creative Takes Feeling fancy? Try gochujang marinades or a drizzle of sesame oil, salt, and pepper. The combos are endless, and so is the potential for Instagram food porn—just keep it real, yeah?
Themed Sides and Culture There’s more to a proper feast than pork. Japchae, kimchi, or even a little cucumber banchan bring texture, color, and that comforting sour-spicy contrast Koreans can’t live without. Throw on some K-pop, or do a mini history lesson about why we’re doing this in the first place—beyond just “3/3.”
Craving a Real Samgyeopsal Party? Book The Ultimate Korean BBQ Experience
Fun Ways to Celebrate at Home
Host a Korean Drinking Game Night: You’ve got the soju, you’ve got the pork. Add a few rounds of “Baskin Robbins 31” or “Titanic” (the soju-floating-in-beer-cup game), and watch the night unfold.
Fusion Feast: Feeling adventurous? Wrap your grilled pork in tortillas for a “K-Mex” twist, or stuff it into kimbap for a bizarre but surprisingly tasty roll.
Solo Samgyeopsal: Who says you need company? Fire up your grill pan, binge some K-dramas, and enjoy the privacy of not having to share.
Is Samgyeopsal Day Overhyped?
Of course it is. But so is Black Friday. We’re talking about a day conceived as a marketing gimmick that morphed into a borderline national celebration. Yet, here we are, excitedly marking it on the calendar. In a sense, that’s Korea’s magic: turning a PR stunt into something that actually feels meaningful by weaving it into the social fabric—food, friends, and family.
Final Thoughts
If you think Samgyeopsal Day is just another corporate-manufactured holiday, well, you’re not wrong. But it’s also a delicious excuse to gather around the grill and enjoy the smoky scent that’s as comforting to Koreans as fireworks on the Fourth of July are to Americans. Sometimes, that’s all the reason we need.
So, on March 3rd, do what Koreans do: celebrate a silly date that turned into a cherished tradition—and partake in that warm, interactive fun of sharing grilled pork belly with good company. Just be sure to crack a joke about how you’re doing your patriotic duty to support local farmers by chowing down on one more slice. Ssamjang optional—but highly recommended.
Happy Samgyeopsal Day, Everyone!
Put on your stretchy pants, gather your favorite humans, and toast to the “three-layered meat” that’s wrapped this country’s heart in smoky, savory goodness for decades. Marketing ploy or not, it’s time to feast. Enjoy!
Korean cuisine is often praised for being healthy, balanced, and nutrient-rich, making it a great choice for those looking to lose weight. While not every Korean dish is diet-friendly (sorry, samgyeopsal and tteokbokki), many traditional Korean foods are naturally low in calories, high in fiber, and packed with essential nutrients.
South Koreans consistently rank among the thinnest populations in the modern world, and their dietary habits play a significant role. If you’re looking to shed some pounds while still enjoying flavorful meals, here are three Korean weight loss foods that are both delicious and satisfying.
Tofu steak has been a popular trend in the Korean diet food world for years. Unlike simply grilling a block of tofu, this dish takes inspiration from Korean-style hamburger steak (Donggeurang Ddaeng, 동그랑땡) but substitutes beef with tofu for a leaner, high-protein alternative.
Why It’s a Great Korean Weight Loss Food:
✔ Low in calories, high in protein – Helps with muscle maintenance and keeps you full. ✔ Rich in umami – Shiitake mushrooms (Pyogo mushrooms, 표고버섯) add a meaty, savory depth. ✔ Healthier cooking methods – Use olive oil or grapeseed oil instead of deep-frying.
How to Eat It: Pair it with a side of steamed vegetables or a light Korean dipping sauce for a satisfying, low-calorie meal.
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Did you know that Korea is one of the few cultures that eat acorns? Acorns naturally contain bitter tannins, making them difficult to process, but Koreans have mastered the art of turning them into a nutrient-rich, weight-loss-friendly food.
Dotorimuk is a zero-fat, low-calorie Korean diet food that has a unique chewy texture similar to gelatin. It absorbs the flavors of seasonings and can be eaten in many different ways.
Why It’s a Perfect Korean Diet Food:
✔ Almost zero calories – Great for anyone counting calories. ✔ High in fiber – Keeps you full for longer and aids digestion. ✔ Rich in antioxidants – Helps detoxify the body.
How to Eat It:
Chilled Acorn Jelly Soup (묵사발, Muk Sabal) – A refreshing, light dish similar to naengmyeon (Korean cold noodles).
Dotorimuk Salad – Acorn jelly tossed with sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, and fresh vegetables.
This is one of the best Korean foods for weight loss because it fills you up without adding extra calories.
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3. Barley Bibimbap (Boribap, 보리밥) – The Fiber-Rich Rice Alternative
If you love bibimbap but want a healthier, weight-loss-friendly version, boribap (barley rice bibimbap) is the perfect choice. Unlike traditional white rice, boribap is made with a mix of barley and whole grains, making it higher in fiber, protein, and essential nutrients.
In the past, white rice was considered a luxury in Korea, and families would mix barley, beans, and black rice to stretch their rice supply. Today, boribap is making a comeback as a staple in Korean healthy eating.
Why Boribap is an Effective Korean Weight Loss Food:
✔ High in fiber and whole grains – Supports digestion and keeps you full longer. ✔ Low glycemic index – Helps regulate blood sugar and prevent cravings. ✔ Nutrient-dense – Packed with vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants.
How to Eat It:
Mix barley rice with fresh vegetables, sesame oil, and gochujang.
Skip the egg and add extra greens for an ultra-light version.
Pair it with fermented kimchi, which boosts digestion and gut health.
This traditional Korean food for weight loss proves that you don’t need to sacrifice flavor to eat healthy.
I don’t have a recipe for this one because there really isn’t a recipe. You just cook some barley in your rice. Or even better, get a lot of mixed grains and rices. People get all fancy with bibimbap. In a typical Korean household, it’s a means to get rid of leftovers. For me, as long as I can douse it in sesame oil and gochujang, I’m happy.
Final Thoughts: Korean Diet Foods for Weight Loss
If you’re looking for healthy Korean food options to help with weight loss, Korean diet foods like tofu steak, acorn jelly, and boribap are excellent choices. These dishes are low in calories, high in fiber, and packed with essential nutrients, making them perfect for maintaining a balanced and sustainable diet.
💬 What are your favorite healthy Korean dishes? Have you tried any of these Korean weight loss foods? Share your thoughts in the comments!
Korea’s Christmas traditions may not have the same historical weight as in the West, but they’ve come a long way since the late 19th century, when missionaries introduced the holiday, even installing a Christmas tree in the palace by request of the queen. I’m not sure if any Christmas drinks were included in these early celebrations. We cover the history of modern Christmas in Korea on The Dark Side of Seoul Podcast.
While the holiday has taken on unique twists here, one thing remains true: food and drink are at the heart of any celebration. And while Korea doesn’t really have traditional Christmas beverages, I’ve discovered some drinks that feel like they belong at the holiday table.
Let’s explore these Korean Christmas drink ideas that add a little holiday magic to your winter.
Think of Moju as Korea’s answer to mulled wine, but with a cozy twist. This Jeonju specialty is what happens when makgeolli (Korean rice ale) meets a steaming pot of cinnamon, ginger, jujubes, and ginseng—all boiled together for a full day. The result? A warm, comforting elixir that’s low on alcohol (around 1–2%) but high on cozy vibes. This is Korea’s answer to mulled wine, but it’s sweeter, earthier, and way more chill—literally.
The Origins of Moju: A Mother’s Touch
The story goes that Moju (literally “mother’s wine”) was created in the 1600s by a queen consort’s mother. Exiled to Jeju Island (life wasn’t easy for moms back then), she found herself with leftover grains from makgeolli production and a need to survive. What does a resourceful queen mum do? She boils the grains with herbs and spices to create a drink that’s hearty, restorative, and—most importantly—sellable.
The original name was “Daebi Moju” (“Great Consort Mother’s Wine”), but over time it was shortened to just “Moju.” I guess when you invent the coziest drink ever, you don’t need a fancy title.
How It’s Made
The beauty of Moju is in its simplicity. Traditionally, it’s made using:
Makgeolli or leftover grains (술지게미)
Cinnamon and ginger (the heavy hitters)
Jujubes (Korean dates) for sweetness
Ginseng, kudzu root, and sometimes other medicinal herbs
The mixture is simmered for a full 24 hours. That long, slow boil removes most of the alcohol, leaving you with something that’s warm, smooth, and just a little sweet—like a hug in a cup. Think of it as the PG-rated cousin of makgeolli that you can sip on without worrying about getting too giggly.
Moju in Modern Korea
You’ll find Moju most famously in Jeonju, where it’s often served alongside steaming bowls of Kongnamul Gukbap 콩나물국밥 (bean sprout soup). This pairing is legendary—it’s Korea’s ultimate hangover cure. Imagine waking up after a long night of soju, stumbling into a Jeonju soup shop, and being handed a steaming cup of Moju to soothe your aching body and restless soul.
Fun Fact: In Jeonju, Moju is considered a Haejang-sul 해장술 (hangover liquor), but don’t let the name fool you. With its low alcohol content and medicinal vibe, it’s as close as you can get to drinking a health potion.
Even if you’re not nursing a hangover, Moju is just plain comforting. It tastes like a warm cinnamon hug mixed with the creamy goodness of makgeolli. Some places even serve it cold in the summer with a little ice—surprisingly refreshing!
Make It at Home (or Cheat the Process)
While traditional Moju takes hours to make, modern Koreans have hacked the recipe:
Grab a bottle of makgeolli.
Add cinnamon sticks, fresh ginger, jujubes, and a bit of sugar.
Simmer for about 40 minutes and voilà! Homemade Moju without the 24-hour wait.
For the full Jeonju experience, sip it hot with some bean sprout soup, a side of kimchi, and a hearty appetite.
Moju may not have the international fame of mulled wine or eggnog, but it should. It’s soothing, nostalgic, and tastes like winter should feel—warm, earthy, and just a little indulgent. If you find yourself in Jeonju, don’t leave without trying a cup. Your taste buds—and your hangover—will thank you.
Ginger Ssanghwa-cha (쌍화차): Korea’s Ancient “Power Tea”
I absolutely can’t think of an English equivalent for Ssanghwa-cha. It’s not just tea—it’s a full-on experience. Picture a boiling pot of over twenty medicinal herbs served in a heavy stone cup, bubbling like something straight out of a mad apothecary’s dream. Lurking underneath the surface you’ll often find pine nuts, walnuts, gingko nuts, sesame seeds, and sometimes even a poached egg. Yes, an egg. Before you recoil, let me assure you: it works.
What’s in This Magical Brew?
At its core, Ssanghwa-cha blends:
Baekjakyak 백작약 (white peony root)
Sukjohwang 숙지황 (steamed rehmannia root)
Danggui 당귀 (angelica root)
Cheongung 천궁 (cnidium)
Gaepi 계피 (cinnamon)
Gamcho 감초 (licorice branch)
This isn’t your cozy bedtime chamomile—it’s a bold, complex, herbaceous powerhouse. Sweetened with honey or sugar, it balances bitter roots with a gentle, earthy sweetness that feels like it could resurrect you from a long night of bad decisions.
The Story Behind Ssanghwa-cha
Ssanghwa-cha goes back to the Joseon era, where it was used as a restorative tonic for scholars, workers, and even royals. The name itself means “twin harmony tea”—a nod to its balance of flavors and health benefits. It was designed to restore energy, boost the immune system, and fight fatigue—basically, an ancient Korean Gatorade, but much classier.
My girlfriend and I stumbled upon the perfect Ssanghwa-cha experience during a trip to Jeongeup, North Jeolla Province. The town’s famed Ssanghwa-cha Street felt like a scene from an old Korean drama—tiny teahouses serving this ancient elixir in stone bowls, steam curling gently into the winter air. It was so cozy and atmospheric that I half-expected someone to hand me a quill and tell me to write poetry.
Fun Fact: Ssanghwa-cha was often consumed as a morning tonic to cure exhaustion. Modern-day Koreans still swear by it for fighting colds and recharging the body in winter.
The Ultimate Winter Tea
If you’re tired of peppermint mochas and cinnamon lattes, Ssanghwa-cha is the Korean winter drink you never knew you needed. It’s bold, restorative, and steeped in tradition—literally. It doesn’t just taste like Christmas; it tastes likehundreds of years of history wrapped in a warm, steaming cup.
Pine Needle Tea (Sulip-cha 술잎차): The Drink That Tastes Like a Christmas Tree
There’s something uniquely Christmas-y about Sulip-cha, Korea’s pine needle tea. If I find it on a teahouse menu, I order it immediately. Why? Because it tastes like I’m drinking a Christmas tree. Earthy, woodsy, with a faint whisper of citrus, this humble tea is both invigorating and comforting—like sitting beside a crackling fire after a walk in a pine forest.
Sulip-cha is made by steeping young pine needles, often from Korean red or black pines, in hot water to extract their subtle flavor and nutrients. The result is a brew that carries the sharp, resinous aroma of pine and a mellow, slightly bitter flavor. While it may sound niche or even a bit “too outdoorsy,” pine needle tea has a long history in Korea, rooted in both traditional medicine and rural life.
The History and Health Benefits
Historically, pine needles were praised for their health properties and used in traditional remedies for centuries. Korean ancestors valued pine needles for their ability to:
Boost the immune system
Improve blood circulation
Prevent hypertension and diabetes
Detoxify the body
Enhance vision
Rich in Vitamin C, antioxidants, and natural compounds like flavonoids, sulip-cha was particularly popular in winter to ward off colds and provide a refreshing boost. It was often consumed by rural communities who relied on the surrounding pine forests for survival.
But there’s a catch: Pine needles aren’t something you can just forage and throw into your tea kettle. Modern environmental practices mean that many pine trees are sprayed with pesticides or treated with chemicals to protect them from pests and diseases. Harvesting the wrong needles can be dangerous, so if you’re craving a cup, it’s best to purchase commercially sourced, food-safe pine needle tea.
How to Prepare Sulip-cha
Preparing Sulip-cha is wonderfully simple:
Ingredients: Fresh pine needles or dried pine needles (ensure they are food-safe).
Method: Rinse the pine needles thoroughly. Boil water, then steep the needles for 5–10 minutes until the water turns a gentle golden green.
Optional: Add a drizzle of honey if you like a hint of sweetness to balance the bitterness.
The flavor can be adjusted depending on your preference—steep it longer for a stronger, more resinous tea, or enjoy it lighter for a subtle, almost herbal infusion.
Sujeonggwa (수정과): Korea’s Cinnamon Punch
If Christmas had a flavor, Korea bottled it up centuries ago with this spiced, sweet concoction. It’s what you drink when you’ve indulged in a garlic-heavy Korean feast, cleansing both your breath and your spirit, but let’s be honest—sujeonggwa tastes like pure holiday magic.
Sujeonggwa, often referred to as “cinnamon punch,” is one of Korea’s most iconic traditional beverages. A heady mixture of cinnamon, ginger, and sugar, it’s simmered for hours to infuse warmth and sweetness. The drink is served chilled, with a garnish of dried persimmons (gotgam) and floating pine nuts for that unmistakable finish. One sip, and you’re transported to a festive Korean table filled with steaming jeon (savory pancakes) and laughter.
A Brief History
The earliest record of sujeonggwa comes from the 18th century during King Yeongjo’s reign (1765), when it appeared in the royal Sujag Uigwe, an official record of banquets and ceremonial feasts. The name itself roughly translates to “water-based refined dessert,” but there’s nothing subtle about its flavors. Historically, sujeonggwa was considered a luxury drink for the wealthy. Ingredients like cinnamon and ginger were expensive, as Korea had to import them, while sugar was practically a delicacy in its own right. A bowl of sujeonggwa on a nobleman’s table was as indulgent as serving truffles and caviar today.
By the late Joseon period, sujeonggwa became an integral part of New Year’s feasts and important celebrations. Dried persimmons were added to balance the spiced notes with natural fruity sweetness, creating the perfect harmony.
Making Sujeonggwa
This isn’t your average holiday punch. It requires time and a little bit of love, but the payoff is worth every minute. Here’s how it comes together:
Ingredients:
Cinnamon sticks (around 10 pieces)
Fresh ginger (sliced, about 1 cup)
Sugar (or honey) to taste
Dried persimmons (gotgam), 2-3 for garnish
Pine nuts, a handful for the finishing touch
Method:
Boil cinnamon sticks and ginger in water for about 1–2 hours.
Strain the liquid, discarding the solids.
Add sugar or honey to the warm liquid and stir until dissolved. Chill the drink in the refrigerator.
Before serving, drop in a dried persimmon and sprinkle a few pine nuts on top.
Optional: Serve it in a rustic ceramic cup for that cozy Korean teahouse vibe.
The result is a dark, amber-hued punch that looks like liquid gold. The bold, spiced notes of cinnamon hit first, followed by the earthy warmth of ginger, and the sweetness of persimmon lingers at the end. The floating pine nuts? A final nod to tradition, offering a crunchy contrast and a touch of visual elegance.
The Cultural Experience
In Korean tradition, sujeonggwa often appears after feasts, especially during Seollal (Lunar New Year) and other festive celebrations. Its sweet-spicy profile aids digestion and cleanses the palate after rich, heavy meals—making it both practical and delicious. Koreans have long believed that sujeonggwa also warms the body and wards off colds, which explains its popularity in the winter months.
But it’s not just about function. Sujeonggwa is nostalgia in a cup. It evokes memories of gatherings with family, grandparents spooning the punch into tiny cups, and the taste of dried persimmons softened in cinnamon syrup.
Modern Takes
While traditional sujeonggwa still reigns supreme, it’s seen some modern twists. Cafés now offer it as a spiced holiday drink, served both hot and cold. Some adventurous cooks even add it to desserts, infusing cakes, panna cotta, or shaved ice (bingsu) with sujeonggwa’s unmistakable flavor.
If you’ve never tried sujeonggwa, think of it as Korea’s answer to spiced tea, with its own distinct personality. It’s festive, aromatic, and quintessentially Korean. Pour yourself a glass this winter, sit by the window, and savor the way it warms your soul with its cinnamon-kissed charm.
One thing’s for sure: Sujeonggwa belongs on your Christmas table. It’s Korea’s little gift to the season, and honestly, it’s a crime not to share.e.
Citron Tea (Yuja-cha 유자차): Vitamin C in a Cup
If you’re feeling a little under the weather during the cold winter months, yuja-cha is like a warm hug in a cup. It’s Korea’s answer to orange marmalade stirred into tea—a citrusy, soothing elixir packed with flavor and a punch of Vitamin C. Whether it’s served hot on a frosty day or chilled for a refreshing pick-me-up, yuja-cha is a Korean winter staple that feels both comforting and luxurious.
A Sweet and Tangy Tradition
Yuja-cha has been enjoyed in Korea for centuries. The tea is made by mixing yuja-cheong (a thick, honey-sweetened citron syrup) with warm water. Yuja, the Korean name for citron, is a bumpy, lemon-like fruit that grows throughout the southern regions of Korea, most notably in Goheung and Geoje. Citron itself has an intense, sweet-tart flavor, like a mix of lemon, grapefruit, and sunshine, making it the perfect fruit to transform into a warming tea.
Yuja-cha has been loved for generations not just for its taste but for its practical health benefits. Rich in Vitamin C, it’s a common remedy for sore throats, colds, and winter fatigue. In fact, giving someone a jar of yuja-cheong is one of Korea’s classic expressions of care, a subtle way of saying, “Take care of yourself.”
Making Yuja-cha: Sweet Simplicity
The beauty of yuja-cha is its simplicity. You only need two ingredients: yuja and sweetener (sugar or honey). The preparation involves slicing the yuja into thin strips—rind, pulp, and all—and preserving it in sugar or honey until it becomes a thick, syrupy marmalade. But really, you can just buy the jammy stuff at the Korean or Asian market.
To make the tea, simply:
Scoop a spoonful (or two) of yuja-cheong into a cup.
Add warm water (not boiling hot—you don’t want to destroy that precious Vitamin C).
Stir, sip, and let the soothing citrus magic do its thing.
You can also enjoy it cold by mixing the syrup with sparkling water for a refreshing yuja-ade—perfect for when you want something bubbly and bright.
A Winter Staple With a Bit of Luxury
Yuja-cha’s story is rooted in practicality, but its flavor feels like a bit of winter luxury. Traditionally, the process of making yuja-cheong was a labor of love, as yuja is an incredibly fragrant but stubborn fruit to work with. The rind is thick, the flesh has a bittersweet edge, and the seeds are numerous. However, when transformed into a sweet, sticky syrup, it becomes a versatile treat that lasts all season.
In Korea, a jar of high-quality yuja-cheong is treasured in winter pantries. It’s not just for tea—you can slather it on toast like marmalade, drizzle it over yogurt, or even bake it into cakes and cookies for a citrusy twist.
The Gift of Yuja
In Korean culture, gifting a jar of yuja-cheong is a loving gesture. It’s what your mom gives you when she notices you coughing, or what friends send to one another during the cold months. Historically, yuja was even reserved for the elite due to its rarity, and the syrup was cherished as both a delicacy and a form of medicine.
Yuja-cha’s reputation for curing colds has been handed down through generations. However, while it won’t replace your doctor’s advice, it’s still the perfect thing to sip when you’re feeling run-down. And hey, it’s a far more pleasant remedy than a spoonful of cough syrup.
Modern Twists and Global Fame
Thanks to Korea’s culinary influence, yuja-cha has gained popularity beyond its borders. Cafés around the world now serve it as “citron tea” or “Korean honey citrus tea,” often paired with trendy Korean snacks. If you’ve wandered into a Korean grocery store or Asian market, chances are you’ve seen jars of yuja-cheong stacked like golden treasure.
In Japan and China, yuja is called yuzu and often takes on similar uses. However, Korea’s yuja-cha stands apart with its unapologetically chunky texture, sweet-tart flavor, and deep ties to winter tradition.
So here’s my take: if you’re cold, tired, or just need a little citrusy sunshine in your life, make yourself a cup of yuja-cha. It’s cozy, nostalgic, and just the right mix of sweet and tangy to brighten up even the gloomiest winter day.
And if you’re feeling fancy, try a yuja spritzer with sparkling water or even a yuja cocktail with a splash of soju. You didn’t hear it from me, but yuja and booze are fantastic friends.
Conclusion: Bring Korean Drinks to Your Holiday Table
From the spiced warmth of Moju to the festive tang of Yuja-cha, these Korean Christmas drinks are perfect for cozying up during the holidays. They may not have Santa’s seal of approval, but they’ll definitely bring some holiday magic to your table.
Whether you’re looking for Christmas drink ideas to pair with a holiday meal or simply want to add a new twist to your traditions, these drinks will make your holidays unforgettable. So, pour yourself a warm cup and toast to a season filled with good cheer—and great flavor.
There’s an unspoken rule in the world of Korean fried chicken joints that many food enthusiasts have come to recognize. It’s a rule that may seem counterintuitive to some, but it’s one that has proven to be true time and time again. The rule is simple: the worse the cabbage slaw, the better the chicken.
This rule was put to the test during a recent visit to Two-Two Chicken in Myeongdong, a popular spot known for its delectable fried chicken. The coleslaw served at this joint was a far cry from the creamy, well-mixed slaw that many of us are accustomed to. Instead, it was a rather haphazard concoction of cabbage, mayo, and ketchup, seemingly thrown together without much thought or effort.
But this lack of attention to the slaw was not a sign of poor quality or lack of care. On the contrary, it was a bold statement. It was as if the restaurant was saying, “Our chicken is so good, we don’t need to impress you with our slaw.” And impress they did, but not with their slaw.
The fried chicken at Two-Two Chicken was nothing short of spectacular. Each piece was perfectly fried to a golden brown, with a crispy exterior that gave way to tender, juicy meat. The fries that accompanied the chicken were equally as impressive, perfectly seasoned and fried to perfection.
To wash it all down, a couple of glasses of beer were served, providing a refreshing contrast to the rich, savory flavors of the chicken and fries. The beer was cold and crisp, the perfect accompaniment to a meal of fried chicken.
This experience at Two-Two Chicken was a testament to the unspoken rule of Korean fried chicken joints. It was a reminder that sometimes, it’s not about the sides or the extras. Sometimes, it’s all about the main event. And in this case, the main event was undoubtedly the fried chicken.
So, the next time you find yourself at a Korean fried chicken joint and you’re served a less-than-impressive slaw, don’t be quick to judge. Instead, take it as a sign that you’re in for some truly exceptional chicken. After all, the worse the slaw, the better the chicken.
Cilantro Kimchi: A Forgotten Korean Recipe with Deep Roots
You’ve probably heard the claim: Koreans don’t eat cilantro. Many food blogs repeat it like gospel. They say cilantro—also known as coriander—has no place in Korean cuisine.
But what if that’s not true?
The Hidden History of Cilantro in Korean Food
Let’s look north. In North Korea’s Hwanghae Province, there’s a traditional Korean recipe known as gosu kimchi (고수김치). “Gosu” is the Korean word for cilantro. This dish features fresh cilantro fermented with radish and spices—just like other kimchi. That’s right: cilantro kimchi exists and it’s Korean.
Before the Border Split
Before 1953, Kaesong was part of South Korea’s Gyeonggi Province. After the Korean War, it became part of North Korea. Kaesong is famous for its cuisine. It was even the capital of Korea during the Goryeo Dynasty.
Food from Kaesong—including cilantro recipes—faded from view after the war. Much of North Korea’s food culture remains undocumented or hard to access.
Refugees Remember Cilantro Kimchi
Joanne Choi, a Korean-American blogger, shared her father’s memories of cilantro-rich dishes from Kaesong. She called cilantro “comfort food” for him—something he missed deeply. Sadly, she couldn’t find any cookbooks or recipes from that region, even in Korean bookstores.
Clues from North Korean Tours
In 2008, a travel blogger visited Kaesong and noticed something surprising: cilantro on the table. It stood out as unusual compared to food in the South. That detail backs up claims of cilantro being part of the northern diet.
South Korean Buddhist Temples Keep the Tradition Alive
Cilantro hasn’t disappeared entirely. In South Korea, Buddhist temple cuisine preserves many old recipes. At Sanchon, a famous temple restaurant in Seoul, cilantro is praised for enhancing flavor—especially with meat-free dishes.
The Language Tells a Story
Here’s another clue: Koreans use the native word gosu for cilantro. They didn’t borrow the word from English or Chinese. That suggests it’s not new—it’s been on the peninsula for a long time.
Where This Cilantro Kimchi Recipe Comes From
This version of gosu kimchi comes from a North Korean source—yes, really. The original website is blocked in South Korea, but I found the recipe through archived content and compared it to a South Korean version: Gypsy’s Gosu Kimchi.
Only the North Korean version provided detailed measurements. That’s what I based this recipe on.
Korean food tours, especially Seoul food tours, daunt travelers with all the choices. There is no one-size-fits-all experience. As I said on a previous post, TripAdvisor/Viator tours and others like them tend to be reposts of other companies’ tours with 15-30% sucked out for commissions.
Do the right thing. Book directly.
Top 9 Korean Food Tours
This is a list, NOT A RANKING. I’ve compiled it based on the most popular rankings and web searches. I know a lot of these operators personally, and they’re good people. We each have a different style. Find one that fits you.
1. ZenKimchi Experiences
I’ll just go ahead and post ours first to get it out of the way. ZenKimchi Experiences specialize in immersive–experiences. We avoid the touristy areas. When we design tours, our guides want to show off why we love this place. What is it that keeps us here?
I created the tours out of frustration that many travelers, especially solo travelers, were having bad food experiences in Seoul. A lot of food programs, especially government funded programs, were run by Koreans who held outdated shallow stereotypes of foreigners. They dumbed everything down and tried to push through foods that everyday Koreans don’t eat, like Royal Court Cuisine.
The big bus tour companies packed their starving tourists into restaurants that only made business from those tours. They served food that was close to prison fare. My wife used to be a tour guide, and she told me horror stories of these companies’ tactics. It was all about extracting more money from tourists rather than showing them a good time. Unfortunately, they dominate the airport kiosks and tour organization websites.
ZenKimchi creates curated experiences that are unlike any other. We want our guests to feel like they’re Korean for the night. We run a profit-sharing business model. This means that our guides own their tours. They aren’t college kids trying to make extra cash. They’re passionate professionals who know where to go.
Websites:ZenKimchi.com, KoreaFoodTours.com Tour Types: Walking Booking System: Automated instant online booking for Credit Card & PayPal. Bank Transfer & Cash need to contact through booking form. Private Tours: Yes Solo Travelers: Yes, for most tours Groups: Up to 20. Group discounts. Family Friendly: Yes, for most tours Hotel Pick-up: No Area: Seoul only
O’ngo is the granddaddy of food tour companies. They’re not just a tour company. They publish books, do research, and make video productions. The founder, Gina, is well respected in the Korean food community. They’re the most popular food tour company and cooking class entity. They have beginner to professional level cooking classes, and they even have special classes for company team building. I just saw they have a special North Korean cuisine class, which I think is the first of its kind. They conduct food tours in Seoul, Busan, Jeonju, and Jeju. They even do multi-day package tours.
Website:ongofood.com Tour Types: Walking, cooking classes, mutli-day packages Booking System: Form. They get back to you. Private Tours: Yes Solo Travelers: Tours cancelled if minimum booking isn’t met Family Friendly: Yes, for most tours Hotel Pick-up: Private tours Area: Seoul, Busan, Jeonju, Jeju
Veronica Kang is a powerhouse. She knows Korean food. She has great stories. When I talk to people who have taken her tours, they gush with love. She creates one-of-a-kind experiences.
Gastro Tour specializes in less touristy fare–Korean food for the already initiated. Advanced level stuff. I’m looking for a chance to take her “Tuscany of Korea” tour. It looks so good! The brewmaster tour is a good crash course in Korean alcohol. It’s life changing.
Website:gastrotourseoul.com Tour Types: Walking, day trips Booking System: Form Private Tours: Yes Solo Travelers: Tours cancelled if minimum booking isn’t met Groups: Can offer group discounts Family Friendly: Yes, for most tours Hotel Pick-up: Can arrange for a fee Area: Seoul, Taean Peninsula
Cooking classes you can find anywhere. What about home brewing classes?
“Sool” is the Korean word for liquor. The Sool Company specializes in teaching you about Korean alcohol traditions from tasting to making. Chinese records from 3,000 years ago stated that the people on the Korean peninsula were the best at making alcohol. The Sool Company was started by expat home brewing geeks obsessed with Korea’s rich drinking culture. They’ve studied under masters, and they have figured a way to distill that knowledge (see what I did there) into easy-to-learn classes. They even have a free online course.
If home brewing isn’t your cup of soju, then take one of their masterful Korean alcohol tasting tours.
Website: thesoolcompany.com Tour Types: Home brewing classes, walking tours Booking System: Online Private Tours: Solo Travelers: Classes need a minimum of 2 to run. Classes under 4 will get a W30,000 extra surcharge. Groups: Classes max out at 10 Family Friendly: Not if you want your kids to learn how to home brew Hotel Pick-up: No Area: Seoul
One Day Korea created an innovative tour recommendation system called “tumakr.” It helps you design your itinerary according to your desires. Similar to ZenKimchi, their guides create their tours. One Day Korea carries a lot of tours in different categories, one of them being food. The types of tours include street food, markets, kimchi making, Noryangjin Fish Market, and even hiking. This is a solution for you if you want to set up all your different tours under one provider.
Website: onedaykorea.com Tour Types: Walking Booking System: Online Private Tours: Yes Solo Travelers: No Family Friendly: Most tours are family friendly Hotel Pick-up: No Area: Seoul, Busan, Andong, Gyeongju, Jeju
I recently took a tour and class at OME Cooking Lab, and I just had to include them on this list. Their class is well done. You start out with a tour of the traditional medicine market and then one of the largest ingredients markets in Seoul. They explain a lot about Korean ingredients, and you get to sample them.
The cooking class is what truly impressed. They run a tight operation, and they’re personable. We made EIGHT DISHES. I’m a Korean cooking veteran, but even I learned a few new things.
Website: 5-tastes.com Tour Types: Cooking classes, walking Booking System: Online with deposit through PayPal Private Classes: Yes Solo Travelers: Yes Groups: Over 10 need special accommodation Family Friendly: Yes. Hotel Pick-up: No Area: Seoul
7. Absolute: Seoul Pub Crawl & International Party
Seoul is truly the city that never sleeps. It is one all-day all-night party. If you’re here to party then party with these folks. They’re the “ORIGINAL and LONGEST operating pub crawl of Seoul and one of the longest running in whole Asia.”
This isn’t a literal food tour. It’s all drinking, so make sure to get something in your stomach beforehand. I went on this one recently with one of my guests, and we had a good time. It’s a good way to meet people.
Website: absolutepubcrawl.com Tour Types: Walking Booking System: Online + PayPal Private Tours: No Solo Travelers: Yes Family Friendly: Heck no! Hotel Pick-up: No Area: Seoul
Food & Culture Academy has been around longer than anyone here. They have been instrumental on almost every Korean drama that revolves around food. I’ve worked with them multiple times, and I’ve been impressed at how thorough their knowledge is, along with their relaxed teaching style. If you want to learn a certain dish, this is the place to learn it. You can make your own tailored cooking class. Professional chefs go there all the time to learn new techniques. There are vegetarian classes, though they’re more on the pescatarian side. They even have classes for kids.
Website: koreanrecipe.co.kr Tour Types: Cooking classes, walking Booking System: Form Private Classes: Yes Solo Travelers: Yes, for a little extra Groups: Group discounts Family Friendly: Yes. Children’s discount on some products. Hotel Pick-up: No Area: Seoul
The spicy stewed pork ribs emerged from the kitchen. Two attractive TV hosts gawked at them in wonder. They gazed at a dish of decadence. A dish that broke all the rules. A dish that was Korean but smothered in mozzarella cheese. With small tongs one woman grabbed a meaty rib and wrapped it in stringy ribbons of dairy.
This was the hit Korean TV show “Tasty Road,” which featured new hot restaurants around South Korea. This episode sparked Korea’s current love for cheese, but it goes deeper than that.
Koreans love cheese
The conventional wisdom has been that Asians don’t eat dairy. I remember a short story I read in elementary school in the 1980s. It focused on a Korean-American girl adjusting to two cultures. She considered herself American, but her relatives pressured her to be more Korean. They forbade her to eat pizza because they said, “Koreans don’t eat cheese.”
That was true in the ‘80s.
Foreign influence and crisis developed the love of dairy on the Korean peninsula, starting with Seoul Milk. The largest dairy company in Korea started during its Japanese colonial period. After that time, Japan would figure again in the 1970s with Yakult Korea. This Korean-owned branch of a Japanese dairy sold yogurt drinks to school children. They’re notable for intentionally hiring an all-woman staff of salespeople, known as “Yakult Ajumma.” These iconic ladies in their mustard colored uniforms pushed carts near schools and were the Korean equivalent of the ice cream truck.
After the Korean War, the U.S. infected Korean cuisine with surplus from military bases. Hot dogs, Spam, and processed cheese became part of the culinary landscape. Cheese entered the famous Budae Jjigae, the “Army Base Stew” Anthony Bourdain raved about. Cheese Kimbap populated local diners. Sliced processed cheese found its way into instant noodles. Manufacturers marketed special “Einstein” cheese slices for babies.
In the early 1960s, a Belgian monk created Korea’s first domestic cheese industry in the rural southern county of Imsil. The curds from this village have become a source of pride for South Koreans, enjoying Imsil Cheese on pizzas and grilling it. In fact, some Korean BBQ places offer grilled Imsil cheese as an option alongside shaved brisket.
We can also talk about how Pizza Hut introduced pizza to Korea in the mid-1980s with ads of stretchy cheese. Yet none of those examples explain why cheese has become so dominant in Korea. These just paint the backdrop. The prelude.
It all comes down to crisis.
When Koreans feel stressed, they want to eat something spicy. It’s a form of cathartic endorphin-laced release. Whenever there has been a national crisis, spicy foods have flourished.
The 1997 Asian Financial Crisis fired up Buldak craze, an intensely spicy chicken no sane sober human should consume. It used to be all over Korea, but these days, it’s hard to find.
Then came the 2008 financial crisis. It took a while to hit Korea. When it did, the stressed masses turned to spicy foods.
A small mom-and-pop shop in the blue collar Sillim-dong neighborhood experienced a surge of customers craving their spicy smoky stewed ribs. The owner of Hahm Ji Bak was thrilled. When he had a breather, he ventured into the dining room and checked in on his customers. They said they loved his ribs. When he offered to get them more, they said that they were having spice overload. They wanted to eat more, but they physically couldn’t.
The owner experimented by melting a mixture of mozzarella and other cheeses with the ribs and dipping them as a fondue. The dairy countered the spice so that the customers could control their level of heat. Word spread about this place, sparking the new influential show Tasty Road to do an episode there.
This coincided with the rise of the “Matjip” movement. This was a renaissance of young people rushing to find the best and newest hot restaurants through social media. Hahm Ji Bak got slammed with new customers.
Soon came the copycats, not only copying the dish but the name of the restaurant itself. The hipster Hongdae area proliferated with restaurants serving spicy dishes overloaded with cheese. Lines formed outside each of these. The craze spread through Seoul and then throughout all of South Korea.
“New Iron Plate Chicken” at Flying Chicken 닭날다 in Hongdae
Now Korea is the fifth largest importer of American dairy and growing. It consumes so much cheese, it affects U.S. dairy prices. Yes, your milk got more expensive because of Korea.
When Koreans’ love for cheese in Korean food is influencing global dairy markets, is it too crazy to claim that cheese is now a Korean ingredient?
There’s a Bon Dosirak franchise near my day job’s location. This is the latest concept from Bon Juk and Bon Bibimbap. I’ve had a few of these dosirak (lunchboxes) before. I particularly like the way they pay tribute to regional cuisines, like the Andong Jjimdalk dosirak, the Sokcho Spicy Octopus dosirak, and the Chuncheon DalkGalbi dosirak.
I’m going to try to systematically go through as much as I can of their menu in the next couple of months. Honestly, there isn’t much else in this neighborhood. I also find these to be tasty, healthy, and not too harsh on the wallet.
Today, I went there for the first time. The owner was surprised to see a foreigner come in, read the menu (it’s all in hangeul), and order. She even gave me a free cup of soup because I was the first foreigner they ever had.
Today’s dosirak is the first item on their menu, Grilled Deodeok Gochujang Samgyeopsal Dosirak 더덕고추장삼겹쉬 도시락. This is a bit of a nod to Gangwon Province, where they grow deodeok. I’m a big fan of this root. “Bastard’s Ginseng.” It’s sweet and crunchy like a carrot, but it also has a little bite to it, like a horseradish. It’s cooked with some thinly sliced pork belly rubbed in gochujang.
The banchan is all designed to be a rice thief. They can’t be eaten on their own because they’re too sour and strongly seasoned. They need rice for balance. The set comes with a package of kim (dried seaweed) for making little rolls out of the banchan and rice. I also got a cup of maesil juice and the aforementioned doenjang soup.
Clockwise from the rice:
Pajeon (green onion pancake). It had a fresh oil flavor, like that of buttered popcorn.
Fried fishcake.
Deodeok Gochujang Samgyeopsal.
Imitation Crab stuffed with Sweet Potato Mousse. Delightful little morsel.
Jeotgal. Fermented sea critters. These really should just go on the rice. I love this stuff.
Pickled Cucumbers. These were so strongly pickled that they needed rice.
Stir-fried Kimchi.
The full set goes for W8,900. The “danpum” version without the four banchan on the right goes for W7,200.
