Tag: Korean cuisine

  • Why Korean Food Is Special: Fermentation, Jang, and the Wisdom of Korean Mothers

    Why Korean Food Is Special: Fermentation, Jang, and the Wisdom of Korean Mothers

    People remember places in different ways. Most of us build our memories of a space primarily through sight — which is why the first thing we do when we arrive somewhere new is pull out our phones and take photos. I used to be the same way. But my thinking has changed. When it comes to remembering a place, smell is just as powerful as sight.

    Every Country Has Its Own Cuisine — and Korea Is No Exception

    Every country in the world has its own unique foods. These dishes are shaped by a region’s distinct climate, the vegetables, produce, and meats that grow in that climate, and the cooking and preservation methods that climate demands.

    As a native Korean, I don’t think of Korean ingredients as particularly extraordinary — they’re simply what I grew up with. But if I had to name a single element that defines the flavor of Korean food, it would be jang (장류): ganjang (soy sauce), gochujang (red pepper paste), and doenjang (fermented soybean paste).

    Korea’s geography plays a major role too. Winters can drop to -15°C to -20°C, while summers climb above 30°C. Nearly half the country is covered by mountains and forests, and three sides of the peninsula border the sea. This landscape gave rise to a cuisine built on wild mountain greens used in namul (vegetable side dishes), and seasonings born from salt, meju (fermented soybean blocks), and the slow alchemy of fermentation — ganjang, doenjang, and gochujang.

    The Taste of Jang: A Foundation Unlike Any Other

    These days, most people buy their jang from supermarkets. But from my own memories growing up, ganjang, doenjang, and gochujang were the bedrock of every meal.

    What many people don’t realize is that traditional jang is not sweet. Its sweetness sits far below that of refined sugar — which is why older Koreans so commonly say, “Food these days is too sweet.” Restaurant food has drifted that way, and in my experience, Seoul-style food tends to taste noticeably sweeter than the food from Gyeongsang Province where I’m from.

    Korean Food and Its Closest Cousin

    Among world cuisines, I find Japanese food to be the most similar to Korean. Dishes like katsu, udon, and various rice-based meals share a familiar rhythm — and indeed, Japanese katsu and udon are now commonplace in Korea as well.

    Looking at what’s trending in Korea today under the label of “fusion,” the picture has shifted considerably. Traditional ingredients are increasingly being replaced or supplemented by cheese, imported vegetables (like cilantro), oyster sauce, and hot sauce. My reference point for “traditional Korean food” is rooted in what I ate growing up — a time before mayonnaise, oyster sauce, hot sauce, cheese, sausages, or imported spices were widely available or accessible.

    What to Eat If You Want to Experience Real Korean Food

    If you’re visiting Korea and want to experience its cuisine in its most authentic form, I recommend ordering jeongsik (정식) — a traditional Korean set meal.

    The elements that make Korean food globally distinctive are, at their core: rice (in its many varieties), gochujang, doenjang, ganjang (aged), and jeotgal (salted fermented seafood). Add to that kimchi, sesame oil, and perilla oil, and you have the soul of Korean cooking. Each region adds its own layers, and seasonal ingredients grown on Korean soil bring a rotating variety of flavors throughout the year.

    Even within a single category — say, gochujang — the taste and nutritional profile can vary enormously depending on how it’s made. Some gochujang uses wheat-based sweeteners; others don’t. The name is the same, but the flavor is a different world.

    Rice as the Foundation

    My dinner at a Korean sundae soup restaurant
    My dinner at a Korean sundae soup restaurant

    American staple meals center on bread. Japan and Korea both center on rice. If Korean food has a reputation for being healthy, it may be because it still uses fewer ultra-processed ingredients than many Western diets, and portion sizes — at least historically — have tended to be more modest. (That said, times have changed: my eldest son is nearly 190cm tall and close to 90kg. Maybe all that fried chicken when he was young had something to do with it — just kidding.)

    The Real Secret: Fermentation and Microbes

    The foundation of all Korean food is fermentation.

    It wasn’t until I learned about microorganisms that I truly understood why I had always craved the deep, funky, complex flavors of Korean cuisine when I was away from home. The human body contains roughly 30 trillion human cells — but it also hosts about 100 trillion microorganisms, most of them living in the digestive tract. In purely numerical terms, the microbes outnumber us. They are, in a sense, the true residents of our bodies.

    And yet, I had never really listened to them before.

    The flavor that microorganisms create appeals not to the eyes, but to the nose and mouth — something primal, instinctive. And it’s not just taste; it’s the way your body responds after eating. Many cultures around the world intuitively reach for broths and fermented foods when they’re sick — vegetable soups, chicken broth — and Korean food has operated on this principle for centuries.

    Korea’s four distinct seasons and rich biodiversity have given rise to a deeply developed fermentation culture. Each region has its own traditional foods, many of which — as Korea faces rapid aging and rural depopulation — are at risk of disappearing. Documenting where these foods come from and what they look like today matters more than ever.

    The Scent That Tells the Story

    Understanding the past and present of a cuisine opens up ideas for where it can go next.

    What I find most compelling about Korean food is its distinctive aroma — the smell that comes from fermentation, from the microorganisms native to the Korean peninsula, from the land and sea that produce its ingredients, and from the accumulated wisdom of Korean mothers who have worked with these elements for generations. Follow that scent, and you’ll find the path Korean food is meant to travel.

    The True Makers of Korean Cuisine

    Ultimately, Korean food — like the traditional cuisines of any country — is the product of mothers cooking for their families, thinking about health, using what the land around them provides.

    Korea, like the US and Japan, has its major food conglomerates: Samyang, CJ CheilJedang, Nongshim, Lotte Chilsung, Ottogi, Daesang, SPC Samlip. But even so, Korean shopping baskets still tend to lean more heavily toward vegetables than toward meat and fish compared to Western counterparts.

    Regional Diversity: No Two Kitchens Are the Same

    Korean food carries a strong national identity — but within that identity lives extraordinary regional diversity. Every region has its own way of making ganjang, doenjang, and gochujang, with recipes and flavors that differ from household to household. Think of how maple syrup varies from region to region in the United States, and you’ll get the idea.

    KBS runs a long-running program called Koreans’ Dining Table (한국인의 밥상), which has aired over 745 episodes across more than a decade. What the show consistently reveals is that traditional Korean side dishes and regional foods don’t follow a fixed recipe — they follow a mother’s hand. The flavor depends on who is cooking.

    And maybe that’s exactly what makes Korean food special: it belongs to a category called “food,” but no two versions of it taste exactly the same.

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  • Why soup is served in korean meals : A Cultural Deep Dive

    Why soup is served in korean meals : A Cultural Deep Dive

    why soup is served in korean meals

    In Korea, soup is called guk

    Traditionally, the basic menu for setting a Korean table has centered around rice and soup. And then we prepare the day’s side dishes or a main dish. At the very least, during mealtime in Korea, there must be either soup or stew—one of the two. And to this, we add kimchi and various other side dishes. In other words, without broth on a Korean table, it feels quite empty. That’s why from my mother’s time, whenever preparing a family meal, she always made soup.

    Soup was considered so important that this saying even emerged and is still used: “There’s not even broth left.” In Korean, when we say there’s not even broth left, it means there’s nothing at all. It means I won’t extend any more goodwill to the other person, and there’s nothing left for me. As a result, it means I won’t maintain the relationship anymore—in short, it signifies a complete break with you.

    This shows how we can glimpse the status of soup even in our language habits. Even in modern society, Koreans always prepared soup for meals. In my father’s time, and in my time as I became a father, Korean tables always have soup. The elderly used to say, “Without soup, you can’t eat rice.”

    Korean cuisine has particularly well-developed soup culture, and there are many varieties. We make soups using seasonal ingredients, and there are several soups we specially prepare for holidays or special occasions. On birthdays we eat seaweed soup, on New Year’s we eat rice cake soup, and on Chuseok we eat taro soup. Also, after drinking with friends, we eat hangover soups like bean sprout soup, dried pollack soup, haejangguk, or sundae soup to detoxify our alcohol-laden bodies. If you add all the regular soups we normally eat, the varieties of soup are incredibly diverse.

    According to my nephew who lives alone in Seoul while working, he used to mainly eat out before, but now he says restaurant food doesn’t taste good, so he cooks soup and rice himself at home.

    It’s said that in the 18th-19th century, the Korean king alone ate 64 different types of soup. So you can see how developed soup culture was in Korea.

    Is soup culture really a unique characteristic of Korean food?

    It’s clear that we love brothy foods including soups. And it’s also undeniable that Korean cuisine has many brothy foods including soups and stews. But does that mean we can say soup culture is a unique characteristic of Korean food? I don’t think so.

    Because various forms of soups and similar foods exist worldwide. Even in Western cuisine alone, there are various soup dishes and brothy foods. What immediately comes to mind is the soup that Europeans enjoy eating. European soups come in many varieties—there’s thick soup, stew with meat and vegetables, porridge, and broth. There’s clear consommé, thick chowder, and purée made by boiling and mashing vegetables.

    Chinese and Japanese cuisine are similar. Boiling and steaming cooking methods are used as basic recipes not only in Korea but throughout Asian cooking. Chinese and Japanese people also eat many types of tang, like our soup. In Asia, the form of boiling food in water and adding various ingredients is similar.

    Why soup culture is somewhat unique as a characteristic of Korean food?

    In Korean history, there’s a term called “il-sik sam-chan” (一食三饌). This means preparing one bowl of white rice with three side dishes for a meal. Soup is not included in this count. Soup is basically assumed to be part of il-sik sam-chan. For example, if I prepare dinner for my child today, I’d make rice, bean sprout soup, braised anchovies, braised beans, and seasoned vegetables, and for the remaining one dish I might add stir-fried spicy pork. In other words, in Korea, soup is included with rice. Rice and soup are not separated in a meal but integrated as one.

    When you go to a restaurant while traveling in Korea, the basic table setting places soup to the right of the rice. This is because it’s cultural. An easy way to understand it is to think of soup as food with liquid that’s generally made by boiling in water.

    While the West and Japan think of soup as separate, Korean rice and soup should be seen as a fused relationship that becomes one.

    Another reason Koreans prefer soup is not actually because we can’t eat rice without soup, but because rice and soup give such a sense of unity in a meal. We don’t find the characteristics of Korean food culture in soup simply because Koreans like brothy foods or because there are many types of brothy foods.

    For example, when eating samgyeopsal or spicy food, we serve mildly seasoned soups like bean sprout soup or seaweed soup alongside to soothe the spiciness from the food.

    When did soup culture develop?

    Historically, it appears our people (Korea) have enjoyed various soup dishes since ancient times. In terms of linguistic interpretation, what we call “guk” in Korean—food made by putting various ingredients in water or other liquids and boiling them—was expressed in Chinese characters as “tang” (湯). But in very ancient times, they distinguished more precisely and the names were really different. This story goes back to around the 1300s.

    Since these were ancient foods that existed before Hangul was created, we don’t know what they were called in pure Korean, but they remain in Chinese characters.

    Looking at documents from the Goryeo and Joseon periods in Korean history, it seems our ancestors really loved soup. The 18th-century Joseon scholar Seongho Yi Ik left this writing: “Bibimbap never gets boring no matter how much you eat it, but for filling your stomach, gukbap (soup with rice) is the best.” Historically, the Korean people were famous for enjoying bibimbap, but they equally enjoyed gukbap—that is, soup and rice. Back then, food wasn’t as abundant as it is now.

    Why did soup culture develop?

    Looking at Korea, Asia, and various countries, unique food cultures have taken root. The formation of these food cultures is influenced by various factors. Particularly, the country’s historical, economic, geographical, and climatic characteristics must have intertwined comprehensively to create a unique soup culture.

    As with any country, soup basically emerged as a way to eat food deliciously. In other words, in the process of food development, foods like soup and stew emerged either independently or dependently with other dishes.

    Another reason is to eat more rice. This may sound strange to modern people, but from an old perspective, the characteristics of Korean food are contained in soup culture. Some argue that soup is a product of poverty. They claim that because the Korean peninsula has many mountains and narrow terrain, grains weren’t abundant, so soup developed in the process of adding water to limited ingredients and boiling them to increase the quantity.

    However, historically, Korea was not a chronically food-scarce poor country. Also, soup actually promoted grain consumption. Unless it’s a separate dish like Western soup, having soup makes you eat more rice. In that sense, soup was a food of abundance and an upper-class dining culture. So the biggest reason soup culture developed in Korea can perhaps be found in rice, our staple food.

    Korean food culture developed centered on rice. In the West, it developed centered on bread. We eat kimchi as a basic side dish along with meat and various side dishes, all centered on rice and soup. Most side dishes also seem like supplementary foods to help us eat delicious rice-cooked meals in larger quantities. Also, borrowing my wife’s words about meals, side dishes play various roles in supplementing missing nutrients. These side dishes are also prepared differently according to the seasons.

    From a regional perspective, Korea’s ondol culture of always boiling water in cauldrons, along with climatic and environmental factors—cold and dry winters, hot and humid summers—probably also played a role. By eating hot broth, we warm our bodies, and even in summer, we can feel coolness by sweating sufficiently, so soup is consumed as an efficient food to endure the sweltering heat.

    Korean soup culture was formed not simply at the level of eating delicious food, but by Korean life and natural conditions all melting and mixing together. The reason soup emerged wasn’t just one reason but varied according to history, natural environment, and culture. Even now in Korea, soup is the most basic food that comes to the table.

    What do we mainly eat this winter?

    welcome my Tastykoreanfood youtube – link

    In cold winter, we mainly prepare soups that warm the body. The methods also differ from household to household. We try not to use sugar in these as much as possible.

    In cold winter, there are various options: bean sprout soup (soup made by boiling bean sprouts with a bit of salt), seaweed soup (soup made by stir-frying seaweed in sesame oil, adding various seasonings, and boiling thoroughly), soybean paste soup, kimchi soup, beef soup, radish soup, and more. The soup I prefer is definitely radish soup, which I learned from my mother-in-law and make often. The preparation time is short, and when you eat it, you feel warmth in your chest and stomach. Because it doesn’t have many ingredients, the taste is also clean. No sugar is used

    Today Lunch is pollack soup, Sugar free

    Bukeoguk (Dried Pollock Soup) 001-20260128
    Bukeoguk (Dried Pollock Soup) 001-20260128

    Korea traditionnal hangover soup , Pollack Soup, We call  Buk-eo Guk

    This is the classic hangover soup I had for lunch today: pollack soup(. I added a bowl of rice, and the three side dishes are as follows: seasoned red pepper paste, seasoned bean sprouts, and cubed radish kimchi (radish kimchi) from the left, clockwise. It costs about $9.

    To understand how rice and soup function together, see What Is Korean Food, what is mitbanchan