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.
You may be wondering why an unapologetic meat eater would be enthusiastic about vegetarian Buddhist temple cuisine. Temple cuisine is a topic that the average Korean wouldn’t be able to tell you much about. It’s pretty exotic over here too. My first experience with temple cuisine came from an article I was researching for a local magazine in 2007. One of the large temples was holding a tasting and meditation seminar, and I thought I’d check it out.
All from a bowl of mushroom soup?
We sat in a large temple, on the floor. We learned some basics of meditation, and then came the food. The monk who was holding the seminar taught us not only about the food but how to eat it. I was facing a bowl of mushroom soup. He told us to close our eyes and smell the soup. Then, with eyes half closed, we slowly ate the soup while learning eating meditation. I had never tasted mushroom soup like this before. We were in a Korean Buddhist temple, but I was being transported to crisp autumn mornings in my native Alabama. Walks through the woods. Memories I don’t remember having. All this from a bowl of mushroom soup.
From the past, the future of food
Even though this is the most traditional of Korean foods, it’s also ahead of its time. Just name a major food movement, and it applies to temple cuisine. It’s slow food. It’s local. It’s organic. It’s vegan. And it’s stubbornly seasonal. Even if temple cuisine is not your type of food, the messages it conveys are valuable to any meal.
The ideal diet from Buddhist scriptures starts with a breakfast of porridge for the mind, a lunch of solid food for stamina, and a dinner of fruit juice for fiber. You also shouldn’t sleep less than two hours after eating—something our doctors tell us all the time. Temple cuisine stresses efficiency, something people in the restaurant business would appreciate. Waste is greatly frowned upon. If you cook vegetables in water, reuse that water in a soup or cook rice with it. And when eating there should not be any waste. There’s the rice bowl, some soup, and some vegetables. And when a monk is finished, he takes his water and swirls it around the rice bowl and drinks it. That’s why the best job at a Buddhist temple is the dishwasher.
It’s also very seasonal. But Korean cuisine itself is highly seasonal. I’ve heard that every two weeks there’s a special day to eat a certain dish. For Buddhists The Scripture of Golden Light advises to have spicy and astringent food in spring; slippery, hot, salty and sour food for summer; slippery, cold and sweet food for autumn; and slippery, sour and astringent food for winter. By slippery, I mean vegetables like seaweed, mushrooms and fiddleheads.
More vegan than vegan
Ideally there is no meat. Buddhism is about life, and you should never kill anything. One time I was eating at a temple restaurant during summer, and the happiest housefly was buzzing around. That had to be the luckiest housefly in Korea. You should not kill your food whenever possible. And if you can help it, try not to kill any plants either. Just take what you can and keep the plant alive to produce more. Monks use the analogy that the bee doesn’t kill the flower to make honey. But this isn’t pure dogma. Sometimes meat is necessary depending on one’s constitution.
At its heart, it is locavore vegan cuisine, but it goes even one step further. Among the vegetables there are five forbidden veggies that incite anger when raw and sexual mischief when cooked. They are garlic, leeks, Chinese chives, and two other wild onions. It’s basically anything from the allium family—garlic and onions. How can you cook anything without garlic and onions?
What we can learn from temple cuisine
This is where we can learn a lot from temple cuisine. The historical rule of food is when one is given limitations, creativity flourishes. All the world’s great peasant cuisines, including Korean, invented amazing dishes out of necessity. It takes a great cook to make something with limited ingredients. When I watch cooking competition shows, I think it’s cheating whenever a contestant breaks out the foie gras. It’s too easy. It’s not clever to just throw in luxurious ingredients and serve them. But when you get all that taken away, you are forced to look at food differently. And it’s from this that we realize that we neglect a lot of what nature has to offer.
As diners, temple cuisine teaches us to appreciate our food. Eating meditation forces us to slow down and enjoy each bite. When a temple chef cooks, she does it with a happy mind. It’s what we always say about soul food and Sunday dinner at an Italian grandmother’s—what makes the food taste good is the love put into it. That is at the heart of temple cooking. But this continues on to the eating part.
Eating Meditation
When you eat, try this. Close your eyes half-way. Ponder where the food originally came from. Think of its journey from the field, the forest, the sea, the mountain to the kitchen to the table. Think of the sun putting its energy into the food and the rich minerals of the earth absorbed into it. Ancient materials creating new life. Think about the people you love and the people you’re with. Think of the moment. Consider how everything, from a star far away in space to the ancient earth to the people who affect your life are embodied in the meal before you. In eating meditation you are supposed to chew each bite forty times. Again, I think it’s a guideline. It does help the digestion, but the message is that we need to slow down and take each bite one at a time. We have a habit of thinking about the next bite or even finishing the whole dish without appreciating what’s currently in the mouth. You appreciate being alive and feeling alive through reflection. Eating meditation tells us to stop and savor. It could be temple cuisine. It could be a fancy meal. It could be a hamburger. But don’t try it with a Big Mac unless chemicals sets make you hungry.
Now, I’m still a carnivore, or rather, I’m an omnivore. I don’t think I could ever be a vegetarian, but Korea has taught me to put meat into perspective. I grew up thinking of meat as the big tumor at the center of the plate. But now I consider it a balanced player amongst a bounty of foods. I can eat vegetarian, even vegan, and be satisfied every now and then. Temple cuisine has taught me to look at food in a different way. To appreciate what I have and to explore new food possibilities.
This time I made sure to get to the temple bistro at a decent time. They were still busy when I walked in. I paid and headed to get my tray and plate and–oh! We have baru bowls and wooden utensils. I looked at the sign.
“비빔밥 입니다”
“Bibimbap imnida.”
Oh, we’re having bibimbap!
So I piled the rice into my bowl and tried to arrange the vegetables on the rice tastefully. I then went nuts with the sesame oil and gochujang, as I do at home. The soup was “sea mustard.” Basically seaweed miyeokguk. The bibimbap was filling. I don’t know about you, but I think the perfect beverage for bibimbap is a glass of chilled clean water.
Ah, lunch time again! Today’s was a bit starchy. Here’s what was on tap.
Sundubu Guk – This mild soft tofu soup had mushrooms and was flavored with wild sesame
Mixed Rice – Same rice as before with kidney beans and other goodies
Mung Bean Jelly – Not much flavor, even with the flavoring, but satisfying texture
Radish Kimchi – These were good. They helped balance the starchiness of the other foods.
Chwinamul – Had this again.
Kelp in Soy Sauce – I normally tolerate kelp at best. This was really good. It was stewed in a very sweet soy sauce. Almost like candy.
Ddeok Jjim – Basically ddeokbokki. Rice cakes were stewed in a rich spicy sauce with cabbage. It was hearty.
I have a lunch meeting tomorrow. I don’t know where it will be. So I may not do a temple lunch. I still don’t know what to think about going vegan for lunch. So far, so good. I’ve been bad at dinner, though. Last night I made southwest chicken burritos smothered in cheese and salsa. I say this, though. Along with not getting the mid-afternoon sleepies, my stomach doesn’t get all acidy either. That’s a chronic problem with the males in my family. I’ve been able to tame it somewhat since moving to Korea in 2004. But it does flare up when I consume heavy or processed meats, rich foods, and lots of alcohol.
I was running really late today and ducked in for lunch before entering the office. I only had a slice of bread for breakfast while heading out the door. Here is today’s temple lunch.
Doenjang Guk – A thin soup of soybean paste and that really good tofu with some greens
Mixed rice – Had some beans in it
Cabbage Kimchi – It’s really sour here, so I gotta make sure I got enough rice on hand as a chaser
Japchae – Unlike a lot of foreigners, I find japchae boring. But this one was a little sweet and flavorful. Really good shiitake mushrooms in it.
Chwinamul – A peppery green herb that I like in small quantities. Just plainly steamed.
Kidney Beans in Soy Sauce – The dried kidney beans are partially rehydrated in a sweetened soy sauce. They have the texture of boiled peanuts, and they were quite tasty.
Mixed Salad – I love salads, and I like the way Baru does their salads. Too often Korean restaurants drown their salads in some sickly sweet cream dressing. Baru tends to use pureed fruit as its dressing base. Today it tasted like citrus, like yuja.
I sat at the bar facing the window. I noticed that the tree out the window was full of ripe daechu–which are like dates.
Click to see the dates up close
Since I had lunch a little earlier than I usually do, I’ve been munching on my bamboo salt almonds this afternoon. So… I’m making myself do this for a month, right?
Trying to do something new. Our office near Insa-dong is a short walk from Baru Gong, the Buddhist temple cuisine bistro. They have a W7,000 lunch buffet. Being Buddhist temple cuisine, it’s mega-vegan. I’m trying to take better care of myself–mostly. I tried to go vegetarian in college, and I ended up in a hospital emergency room. No real evidence that it was vegetarianism, but I was definitely malnourished.
So, I’ll go half-ass like I always do. I’m going to try to go four weeks eating Buddhist temple cuisine for lunch. And document it here.
(“Oh, joy! Another food blogger taking pictures of his lunch.”)
Yeah, I know. But some of it is interesting, and I thought I’d share a bit of what can be served as temple cuisine. Baru Gong itself is not fancy at all. It’s like a cafeteria. But the past few times I’ve been there, the food has been good and filling. And filling is a big thing for a carnivorous vegetarian. They try to educate diners a little bit about temple cuisine and the baru itself, which is the temple meal. Diners get a regular china plate and bowl. But on display at the buffet is the black lacquer wooden bowls, which fit inside each other like Matryoshka dolls. One is for rice, one for banchan, one for soup, and one for water. I wish they had more info on the meanings behind temple cuisine, like a trifold info sheet on a table about basic concepts. Eating meditation. The philosophy of not killing whenever possible–as in, the bee doesn’t kill the flower to make honey. And the notion that no bit of food is to be wasted. That’s one that doesn’t get through to diners, as I see plates and bowls with leftover food when I go to put mine away.
I’ve done articles on temple cuisine, have even given a lecture in New York. I’m not Buddhist, but I find it intriguing. I do find that I tend not to have my involuntary afternoon desk nap after a temple lunch. I do start getting a little peckish around four o’clock. But I have a remedy for that in the next post.
Here’s today’s lunch.
Being a buffet, it ain’t gonna look pretty on the plate.
Mixed Rice: Rice mixed with beans of different types. This is a typical Korean way of stretching the rice while adding protein. I like the earthy tones the beans add.
Radish Kimchi: Being temple cuisine, no fermented fish products are added, so fruit extracts are used to get the fermentation going. This was heavy on the ginger, which I liked.
Bireum Namul: I had to research this. The closest I got was Amaranth. It’s a tender wild herb.
Burdock Root: These were good! Slightly sweet pickled burdock root. I shoulda put more on my plate.
Nokdujeon: Mung bean pancakes. These are basically the same as bindaeddeok. They remind me a bit of cornbread. I wish there was a soy sauce to dip them in.
Acorn Jelly: When done well, acorn jelly can be very good. This was done a little similar to San Maul Boribap near my house in Anyang with lots of sesame. The texture of the jelly was softer and more rustic than usual.
Perilla Seed Soup: The secret to making temple cuisine taste good when you can’t use any animal products, garlic, or onions is liberal use of ddeulggei. Some call them perilla seeds. I prefer “wild sesame.” The soup had some bright greens and a hearty tofu with actual flavor.
