Category: History

Samgyeopsal Day: The Most Delicious Marketing Ploy You Never Knew You Needed
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.
- Cultural Phenomenon: Samgyeopsal’s popularity soared with “hoesik” culture (post-work gatherings), where coworkers bond over soju and sizzling pork.
- 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
SAMSUNG CSC
1. 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.
2. 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).
3. 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.
4. 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?
5. 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!
March 3, 2025
Kimchi and Cheese: How crisis made dairy dominate Korean cuisine
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.
Budae Jjigae. Credit: Richard Lee on Flickrhttps://www.flickr.com/photos/70109407@N00/
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?
November 16, 2019
Woomi Dakgalbi, Chuncheon, Korea
Woomi is an old-school 닭갈비 dakgalbi restaurant that has been in the mountain lakeside city of 춘천 Chuncheon, South Korea, since 1970.
If you see the wagon wheel, you know you’re in chicken heaven. (Jeff Quackenbush photo)
This was the Chuncheon dakgalbi I remember from my teaching English in the city in 1997. That was before the 2002 Korean TV drama 겨울연가 Gyeoun Yeonga (Winter Sonata) turned the sites used for filming into a foreign tourism magnet as well as the 2005 closure of the U.S. Army’s Camp Page carried the city’s destiny in a totally different direction.
“Authentic” ingredients for the spicy marinaded chicken stir-fried dish Chuncheon is known for are 가래떡 garaedeok (large rice noodle), julienned sweet potato, diced Nappa cabbage, 껫잎 kkaenip (Perilla frutescens var. japonica), green onion, garlic and onion. Key components of the marinade are 고추가루 gochugaru (spicy red pepper powder), ginger, soy sauce and a dash of Korean- or Japanese-style curry powder.
More recent variations of Chuncheon dakgalbi include finishing touches of rice or noodles and lots of cheese.
This is where the tasty begins. (Jeff Quackenbush photo)
반찬 Banchan (appetizer or side dish) for our dakgalbi at Woomi was a small bowl of 동치미 dongchimi (“winter kimchi”) to refresh the palate. Leaves of romaine lettuce to slather with 고추장 gochujang (spicy red pepper paste) and wrap around the dakgalbi, raw onion and raw garlic.
This is where the tasty chicken ends up, laying on a bed of gorgeous lettuce with some raw onion tucked inside. (Jeff Quackenbush photo)
Going back to Chuncheon
Attending a friend’s wedding in mid-May was a good excuse to indulge in the many good reasons to visit Korea. For me, the most exciting reason was a return after 15 years to my Korean “hometown” of Chuncheon, located about 75 kilometers east-northeast of Seoul in 강원도 Gangwon province.
It used to be a two-hour train ride between Seoul and Chuncheon, but now there’s both ITX high speed rail — takes about an hour and has mostly reserved seats for ₩6,700 (about $7) — and a subway line — takes about 90 minutes with first-come seating for ₩2,800 (about $3).
If you have any doubt as to which train to catch, just follow the throngs of middle-aged men and women decked out in their matching hiking clothes and equipment. Most likely, they’re heading toward Gangwon for some prime hiking and camping somewhere in between.
For the possibly under-equipped hiker, an ajumma walked through the subway cars, selling wide-brimmed hiking hats, gloves and face guards.
This is not Joon-Sang and Yu-Jin’s Chuncheon station. (Jeff Quackenbush photo)
The first thing we noticed about Chuncheon’s ongoing facelift was the train station itself. The simple train platform we frequented, and seen in Winter Sonata, had been replaced by a architecturally modern glass-and-stainless-steel building.
This is what is left of Camp Page in May 2013: a water tower and a large green field. The imposing concrete wall topped with razor wire is long gone. (Jeff Quackenbush photo)
A second major difference: The tall razor-wire-topped concrete walls of Camp Page no longer blocks your entry into Chuncheon. Instead of spending an extra ₩2,000 in taxi fare to circumnavigate the base as we used to, we had a straight shot from the station through the former base grounds to downtown and 명동 Myeong-dong (the main shopping district).
We walked from the train station straight up 평화로 Pyeonghwa-ro/금강로 Geumgang-ro to the Myeong-dong plaza (on the right, just past 정강로 Jungang-ro). It would have been a 20-minute walk or a few minutes by taxi, but on the way we meandered through the underground shopping bazaar, which was under construction when we were last there.
“Dakgalbi Street,” an alley dakgalbi restaurants side by side, is off the central Myeong-dong plaza, with its Winter Sonata memorial Christmas trees on each light pole. (The trees recall a scene from the drama.)
Hubby and I would come to Dakgalbi Street after our morning classes, so being back there was like 1997 all over again. But at that time, rather than trees on light poles, the recurring motif in the shopping court was the soundtrack to the hit TV drama of the time, Star in My Heart, seemingly on a continual loop from music store outdoor speakers.
Woomi Dakgalbi (우미닭갈비)
Dakgalbi Street in Chuncheon’s Myeong-dong
50-5 Joyangdong (Chuncheon Myeongdong District), Chuncheon-ssi, Gangwon-do
조양동 50-5 (@ 춘천명동점), 춘천시, 강원도, KR
www.ccwoomi.com
October 25, 2013
Korea Didn't Get Peppers from the New World?
On the everything-you-know-is-wrong front, Korea Beat translates a story from Naver that a Korean scholar claims he has found evidence that Korea did not get hot peppers from the Americas by way of European traders—you know, how historically the rest of the world got them. He claims that they evolved independently on the peninsula, or rather, they had peppers before Columbus landed in the New World.
Read about it here.
For anyone interested, here’s what I wrote in the comments:
This comes as a big surprise, and I read books on food history more than anything.
To me, it looks like they’re trying a linguistic approach to proving their thesis. Maybe similar to us trying to say that hot peppers came to Europe from India in the Middle Ages because the writings of the time talked about the popularity of black pepper.
It’s highly unlikely that capsicum plants are indigenous to Korea–like it’s some big culinary secret that a small group held from the rest of the world until after the Portuguese started trading around east Asia in the 17th century and then SUDDENLY Asian cuisines as far west as India adopted hot peppers thanks to Korea alone.
What I do find interesting is this new mystery. What is this 고쵸 that the researchers have found? What was really in that early gochujang?
The idea that peppers in Korea evolved separately from peppers in Central America belongs in the same category as Mole People. You’d have better luck and a better chance of really pissing people off if you go ahead and try to prove that Japan got the original form of sushi by way of Korea–of which I think there’s a credible thesis.

February 27, 2009