Dargung village is wedged deep in the crevice of Jirisan, mainland South Korea’s tallest mountain (Jeju Island’s volcanic Hallasan beating it out just a bit). Dargung means “Moon Palace,” named for its brilliant view of the moon rising over the village each night. Fresh springs run beside the road that cuts through the village, now lined with tables from restaurants serving a very peculiar type of Korean BBQ.

And it is here that you will find “Dargung Sikdang,” one of Korea’s truly great restaurants serving mountain-to-table cuisine that remains nearly undiscovered, even by local Koreans outside of the region.

Now when I say “truly great,” I mean the type of restaurant that, in my mind, would make the likes of Dan Barber weep. A place to keep going back to, year after year. Even though it requires a pilgrimage, it is certainly worth the effort. There are a handful of these places I have found in Korea, yet still it seems like outsiders have never even heard of them.

Dargung Sikdang opened in 1982 by the wife of a construction worker who helped build this road that now leads from this valley to the south side of the mountain. This road was essential for connecting Namwon in the north-west with Gurye and Hadong to the south. Unfortunately, her husband died while working on the road, leaving her to establish a 3-generation mountain-cuisine dynasty in the Dargung Valley village.

Originally, she sold baek-suk, a traditional medicinal Korean chicken stew wildly popular in the mountains of Korea. But soon, a new regional dish developed here, specifically in this village. Along with their traditional mountain dishes, native Jirisan black pork was cooked using oak wood smoke and fire.

Now, Dargung Village has become a village of firewood-cooked black pork. Driving through here, you will see dozens of roadside restaurants with crude grill houses billowing smoke and tempting smells of sizzling pork, assailing anyone who dare roll the window down to take it in.

Before we go any further, we have to talk about pork in Korea, because there seems to be a lot of confusion around the subject. Pork and pork dishes, even the beloved pork belly BBQ, were not really popular in Korea before the 1960s. The main proteins before this, including historical and traditional dishes, were chicken, beef, and fish. I’m not claiming no pork was eaten, but it certainly wasn’t eaten and prepared as it is today. Korean BBQ using pork, while certainly having roots in the much older beef-centric bulgogi and grilled fish traditions, is for the most part a modern invention (one regional exception to this rule is Jeju Island, which has always been a culture centered on pork dishes).

Before the Korean War, all native pig breeds in Korea were black pigs. Landrace pigs were imported into Korea and entered intense breeding programs after the Korean War to help stave off famine and pump more protein into the diet. Pink landrace pigs were much fatter and grew quicker, requiring fewer resources than the leaner native black pork found throughout Korea. Government intervention in the late 60s and early 70s caused a massive increase in pork farming using a hybrid breed of landrace mixed with native Korean pigs, giving rise to Korean BBQ as we know it today. Pork belly, pork bulgogi, and even pork soups and stews are mostly modern Korean foods developed to use the influx of pork in the country.

Jirisan has its own native black pork, prized for its lean meat with concentrated oleic acid, giving it a chewier texture and more umami-like cheesy flavor. And in the Dargung Valley, dozens of restaurants along the mountain road use oak wood and smoke to cook the pork belly, imparting a strong smoky flavor into the meat.

But the unique smoky pork is just the start of what makes Dargung Sikdang so special. As with any good Korean BBQ house, it is the banchan (accoutrements) that define its quality, starting first with the kimchi. Every year, the kimchi is made using their mother’s recipe before being tucked away in their “kimchi caves”, a giant humidity-controlled chamber by the stream whose walls are covered in Penicillium mold (whether this is intentionally added or natural, I have yet to ask).

The cave’s smell reminds me of many bloomy-rind cheese caves I visited when I worked for Murray’s Cheese nearly a decade ago. Barrels of kimchi are stacked by year, unused until hitting the ripe age of at least 3 years old.

When eating in Korea, certain things just become normal like this. But to think that the plate of fermented cheesy kimchi served at every table here takes at least 3 years to prepare is anything but normal.

The kimchi is then sliced and finished on the smoky grill, surprisingly soaking up a bit of that wood-fire taste; an incredible sour and funky match to the oily pork belly.

The rest of the mountain table is filled with wild mountain vegetables, herbs, shoots, and mushrooms, hand-gathered by the restaurant. All along the road, land is dedicated to certain edible plants and roots, grown in the mountain soil, collected, processed, dried, or eaten fresh. In the winter, maple trees are tapped for maple water, collected in the spring when it thaws and bursts out. Driving here through the early spring means seeing giant barrels of the maple water, something they call “gorosway.”

Some of the collected herbs are used to make various rice-liquor infusions: ancient mountain medicines. Others are dried to be reconstituted in the off-season to make sure the array of banchan remains vast even in the winter.

The fresh-picked mountain herbs, roots, and vegetables are washed in the cool, fresh Jirisan spring water, which runs just next to the restaurant.

Other mountain dishes they specialize in here include fresh sliced bellflower roots with a dish of mountain honeycomb from the restaurant’s personal apiary. Honey is a source of pride for this restaurant, and they even gather something called “seok-cheong”, which is a super rare wild honey harvested directly from the cliffs of Jiri Mountain. One jar will set you back about 400 USD and must be arranged a few weeks before your visit.

As if this wasn’t enough already, they also serve mountain-harvested baseot-jeon: savory crispy pancakes packed with garlic chives and mushrooms. Each bite is crispy, meaty, packed with mushroom flavor, and dipped in a soy-vinegar yangnyam sauce that cuts the oil perfectly.

But perhaps more than anything, it’s the laid-back mountain atmosphere that draws you in and back. Reading a description of this restaurant and what they offer, you might imagine some kind of chef-driven natural philosophy behind the family that runs this place. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. The painstaking dedication to gathering and hunting these ingredients, cooking with wood fire, infusing herbs, and fermenting vegetables; all of it is simply how Grandmother did it and how the family will keep on doing it. It’s cheaper to gather than to buy. It’s normal here. Buying processed ingredients is abnormal. Sit among the maple trees, eat from the mountain, drink to your health, and, if you feel like it, pay a small fee for a room to pass out in upstairs. This is normal. This is Dargung Sikdang in Jirisan.

Mount Kinabalu is the tallest mountain in Malaysia, standing at 4,095.2 meters above sea level. The winding mountain road climbs from Tamparulli to Kundangsan, taking about 1.5 hours. The clouds above quickly become sheets of rain and an ethereal fog as you climb high enough.

And it’s there, in that gray mist and chaotic thunder, that you smell it. Pork fat hitting wood fire, a smoke rising up like incense to the mountain gods. This is Sinalau Bakas; smoked wild boar of the indigenous Sabahan people, now turned an essential roadside meal, entrapping every visitor to the mountain.

Open-air grills packed with slabs of freshly butchered boar slowly turn pink as the smoke indirectly cooks and preserves the meat. The native people tending the fires, cooking the pork, and taking the money from customer after customer smile because they know what they got.

They know what their culture has gifted them. They know what their ancestors have gifted them. They know the spell they cast on every visitor who happens to drive by with their window down. I also fell under that spell.

The smoke preserves the boar, and locals often buy large pieces to take home to use in their own kitchens. But travelers like myself can ask for the meat to be finished on the fire so it can be eaten right away.

The sound of chopping blocks knocks constantly as crispy pork is cut into small bite-sized chunks before being drizzled in a tangy deep soy glaze and served with a side of vinegar chili sauce and a calamansi lime. When it hits the table, you can almost see the generations of hands it took to bring this single plate to life. A mountain temple of pork, holy ground, damn delicious.

These places change you in some way, if you let them. You pay for the food and for a brief moment, you are in their kitchen and their world and they are happy to have you in. Rain hits the roof so hard you have to shout to talk. Thunder rolls and dogs play, and each bite of pork bursts with deep smoke and fat mixed with lime and vinegar sauce. It’s just BBQ, sure, but it’s also a chance to sit next to something new and have a conversation with it.

At Jalan Segama in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia, cracking open a durian is like popping a bottle of champagne. The hatchet swings, and the crowd counts the number of fruits inside before cheering wildly. You would think the routine would slowly leak morale, but it continues, on and on, as the durians are hacked into pieces.

For some, visiting Borneo during peak durian season is a pilgramage. Durian heads who’ve tasted their way through dozens of varieties, taking notes of tastes, flavors, and texture, like many do with fine wine, come here for the abundance, quality, and price.

I don’t belong here.

I love durian. In fact, it is my favorite fruit and a taste I simply can’t get over. I never understood the bias against its intoxicating smell. And it’s hard for me to believe anyone who tells me they don’t like it. But I rarely have access to this tropical delicacy; I don’t understand the prices and qualities to look for, weather small or large means good or bad, or how old the tree was that produced it. The best I can do is point, pay, and trust.

But the people gathered here are not like me. Old ladies argue over prices and varieties. Men in business suits look like they would wrestle vendors to the ground for a certain fruit at a certain price. Colors, textures, and sweetness are all in a system that is studied by connoisseurs. D24: Sultan D197: Musang King D200: Black Thorn D175: Red Prawn. You can find it all after 5pm at Jalan Segama. Tents selling dozens of cultivars are set up on the street. Pick your fruit, pay by weight, and wait for them to hack it open and sing and cheer. Tables are lined up next to the vendors so you can sit and enjoy this love it or hate it delicacy.

Every time the spiky durian skull is split, the vendor smells it for quality. He then, I assume, looks at the buyer’s face, judging quickly if this particular face will understand the quality of this particular skull and the funky brains it contains inside.

When they study my fat American face, glistening with sweat on my now-gray beard, eyes wide like a toddler excited for the custard candy held within… yeah, there’s a good chance I got ripped off here.

Is ripped off the right word? And how would I even know? We can call it the “idiot tax.” A few extra for the right to sit among these durian gods for the night. Did I overpay? Did the fruit smell right when he stuck his nose in the wound? It doesn’t matter. I’m here. I paid. I belong for a few moments.

Because it’s peak season, a rare wild durian is hitting the streets. The signs called this “Dalit,” and the flesh has a distinct chalky red. I read about it online. Online told me I had to try it. Online said it is super rare. So now, my online brain tells me I have to try it and pay whatever they ask.

The rare Dalit durian didn’t taste anything like durian. It was more of a dark chalky chocolate nib without any funk or sweetness. It is hard to imagine this wild durian was transformed into the intensely flavored versions eaten now. I prefer the funky custard of Black Thorn.

Back at the hotel, I took a look at the normal price of Black Thorn in Malaysia these days, and I indeed paid about 10USD more than I probably should have. But I didn’t haggle, like most customers here probably do. You probably have to ask high, haggle low, and meet in the middle.

Being an idiot does not mean you were scammed. Sometimes, you pay the tax for being an outsider so you can join the club for a while. Next time, try your hand at haggling to see what comes of it.

Ask any serious Korean foodie where to find the best food in the country, and there is a good chance Mokpo will be mentioned. The southwestern coastal city is deep in the Jeonnam region, noted for both abundant farmland and easy access to the sea. Understanding Mokpo's food means engaging with its geography, one that shaped its incredibly complex economic and colonial history. Fertile Honam agricultural land, the Yellow Sea, islands, tidal flats, fisheries, and the port all converge here. Its prime location has meant that the city, historically, has been coveted, fought over, and exploited for its food resources. This is why Mokpo still carries scars of a Japanese occupation in its unique architecture and history.

Today, to Korean foodies, Mokpo stands as a symbol for those in the know: a pilgrimage to eat the best that Korea has to offer. In this guide, not only will I show you the best of the best among restaurants and foodie spots to explore, but also explain how to get there from Seoul, where to stay, and what to see and do. Also, don’t forget to check out the NAVER Map link with all of the spots featured in this guide and more!

If you’re coming to Korea on a foodie-centered trip, I would pick Mokpo over almost any other destination; however, this city has so much more to offer!

EWIG Ultimate Mokpo Guide Map: https://naver.me/xKyK4aRD

From Seoul to Mokpo

Mokpo, despite its distance from Seoul, is a surprisingly easy 1-night, 2-day trip due to Korea’s high-speed KTX infrastructure. Seven KTX trains operate from Seoul Station to Mokpo Station, while eighteen KTX trains operate from Yongsan Station to Mokpo Station each day. Many travelers don’t realize that Yongsan Station is just a few kilometers away from Seoul Station, meaning it is basically another hub for taking easy trips outside of Seoul.

I recommend taking the 7:39am train from Seoul Station or the 8:20am train from Yongsan Station to arrive at Mokpo before lunchtime.

One more tip: book your KTX tickets early, as they may sell out on the weekends. And be sure to arrive at the station early, as you can never predict Seoul traffic (if arriving at the station by taxi).

Once you arrive in Mokpo, you will be within walking distance of nearly everything the city has to offer. So that’s it. Just 1 short train ride, and you will find yourself in the depths of Jeonnam, ready to experience a regional food city that is wildly different than what you might find in Seoul.

Rough 1-Night, 2-Day Itinerary

We’re going to get deep here, so before we begin, I want to share a rough idea of the overall flow to make a great 1-night, 2-day trip to Mokpo, just to give you some idea on how you could schedule your trip:

11:00 Arrive Mokpo Station → 11:30 nakji lunch → historic district/museum → cafe → 17:00 mineo/baendaengi/hongeo dinner depending on season → 20:00 drinks/food/cable car ride → 23:00 88 Pojangmacha → next morning coffee and bread/kongguksu breakfast → 11:00am crab/tteokgalbi lunch → 13:00-15:00 KTX home.

Where to Stay in Mokpo

I usually plan a Mokpo trip with friends, as the city is full of great late-night places to eat and drink. We typically split the cost of an AirBnB near the historic Japanese district, as it is within walking distance of great restaurants, historic sites, cafes, museums, and markets. There are no commercial hotels near there, so booking a private home via AirBnB has been my best choice.

So far, I have had luck with these 3 AirBnBs in Mokpo.

1. https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/1242372596828753051?check_in=2026-09-23&check_out=2026-09-25&guests=1&adults=1&s=67&unique_share_id=8120560e-bc6c-4033-b018-a0669a971317

This spot is great for large groups with 3 private bedrooms, a large kitchen, and great rooftop space to end the night.

2. https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/1617054022029441968?check_in=2026-09-23&check_out=2026-09-25&guests=1&adults=1&s=67&unique_share_id=a8dd7056-c6f7-460e-bd76-27b99344e3b3

This is a great little Japanese-style stay above a cafe, which is also dog friendly. This is suitable for a couple, though.

3. https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/654118832916254402?check_in=2026-09-23&check_out=2026-09-25&guests=1&adults=1&s=67&unique_share_id=c0aebffa-85b0-472a-a316-5d4f797f9618

This boutique hotel offers a few room options that are very centrally located.

Essential Mokpo Food

Before we get into the historic sites and cafes, let’s get right to the food. Mokpo and the Jeonnam region have many specific specialty dishes that you either won’t find in Seoul or will have ruined other versions for good. Here are the main specialties you should seek on your food trip to this amazing city and a few places to find them.

Nakji Yori (Octopus Dishes)

The long-arm octopus thrives in the vast mud flats surrounding Mokpo, and a wide variety of traditional dishes have developed around this local delicacy. The most famous is “nakji-tangtangi,” which is sliced raw octopus, famously eaten while the nerves are still squirming and moving. This dish is known to be the best in this region, and the freshly caught mudflat octopus has a distinctly softer texture than octopus from other regions.

In the fall season, there is an even more delicate octopus in season called “sebal nakji,” which is much smaller and thinner. This is usually served in a bowl, still alive in water at the table. It is then wrapped around a chopstick and eaten whole.

The next most popular is “yeonpotang.” Unlike most Korean soups, this broth is simmered just below boiling temperature as octopus is dipped in and out of the soup until barely cooked. The light, delicate broth is served with this super-soft octopus that is nearly like the texture of a marshmallow.

Horong-gui is also a popular dish, where octopus is wrapped around wooden chopsticks and grilled over charcoal with a sweet and spicy gochujang sauce.

There are several spots to try these delicacies in the city, but here are a few of my favorites and places that have been around for decades.

독천식당 (Dokcheon Sikdang)

Dokcheon Sikdang has been a local favorite since the 1980s. The large cafeteria-like kitchen is pumping out some of the best nakji dishes in the city, with their famous yonpo-tang, front and center. Go for their “gal-nak-tang” for a beef-rib-infused version as well.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/5tJtoevd

Address: 전남광주 목포시 호남로64번길 3-1

Phone: 061-242-6528

신안뻘낙지 (Sinan Bbeol-Nakji)

This is a slightly more local and rustic spot doing nakji right. What is most famous here is their raw nakji mixed with raw hanwoo beef.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/F74rDsRO

Address: 전남광주 목포시 청호로 16 신안뻘낙지식당

Phone: 061-243-8181

독천골 (Dokcheongol)

This one is across town and in the newer district but worth the taxi ride. A younger crowd, a more modern take on classic dishes, and a bit more of a relaxed atmosphere. This would be my number one choice if it were located a bit more centrally.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/GOPe4acw

Address: 전남광주 목포시 옥암동 1095-6

Phone: 0507-1488-0043

동부시장 (Dongbu Market)

Inside the famous Dongbu Market in central Mokpo you can find many fresh nakji sellers and restaurants. Pick one out yourself and have them cut it up for you on the spot. This is a great experience if you want something a bit closer to the source and faster than a restaurant experience.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/xbA5So9Q

Address: 전남광주 목포시 영산로257번길 15

The Mineo Table (Wild-Caught Croaker)

In midsummer, croaker season comes to Mokpo, where an entire street in the historic district is dedicated to serving this dish. Elaborate Jeonnam tables fill with banchan as locals gather to eat this giant, rich fish. Much like the more famous samgyetang (whole chicken soup), croaker is seen as a restorative and healthy fish to be eaten in midsummer. Locals and tourists alike gather here in July and August to eat this massive fish.

You can try croaker sliced raw, including the swim bladder, gills, and skin, as well as fried as jeon or in a muchim salad. There is even a classically trained chef in the area making elaborate charcuterie using this fish, which is a must-visit spot.

Honestly, you can take your pick among the many legendary croaker restaurants in this district, but here are two essentials.

피시테리안/피시테리 (Fisterian)

This tiny spot is run by a chef who is expertly crafting croaker charcuterie and small dishes using the famous Mokpo catch. Chicharrónes made by deep-frying croaker swim bladder, smoked croaker, croaker chorizo, and croaker tartare are all on the menu. This is a must-visit spot for any foodie seeking an appetizer of some of the most unique food on the peninsula!

Naver Link: https://naver.me/GtUZCBmB

Address: 전남광주 목포시 수강로 11-2

Phone: 0507-1387-0386

중앙횟집 (Chungang Hoe-Jip)

This legendary spot is almost as famous for their banchan as their freshly prepared croaker dishes. An open kitchen pumps out elaborate plates of the summertime fish along with 5-year-old kimchi. That’s right: the kimchi here is aged for 5 years before it hits the table. In true Jeonnam style, your table will fill with dish after dish, banchan after banchan, all perfectly balanced with the oily fish. Croaker gills, croaker swim bladder, croaker belly, and croaker skin are all served raw here.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/xeAPl8fo

Address: 전남광주 목포시 번화로 44-1 중앙횟집

Phone: 0507-1381-5040

Mokpo-style Tteok-galbi (Minced beef patties)

While seafood is king in this town, it is also known for this incredible beef dish that is distinctly different from the more famous Gwangju version. Beef rib meat is meticulously separated from the bone by hand, roughly minced, and marinated in a soy-based sauce before being grilled over charcoal. This ancient Joseon recipe was developed in this region when exiled scholars wanted to eat beef ribs but didn’t want to get their hands dirty by picking up the rib itself. The Mokpo version is my favorite and very different from the typical versions you often find in markets in Seoul.

성식당 목포본점 (Seong Sikdang)

There are two branches of this legendary spot, both run by the same family, and both of the same quality. I recommend the 2nd branch for friendlier service, though. The banchan here is what attracts me the most, as they use classic Jeonnam-style doenjang, which has a peanut-butter-like texture and a sharp, acidic bite.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/xafmFRW2

2nd Branch: https://naver.me/G8s9eQT9

Address: 전남광주 목포시 수강로4번길 6 1,2층

Phone: 061-245-1401

영암식당 (Yeongam Sikdang)

This is also an excellent choice, up closer to Mokpo Station. Again, high-quality beef grilled over charcoal. You can’t go wrong here.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/FLyTcMLA

Address: 전남광주 목포시 마인계터로15번길 23

Phone: 061-244-4600

Hongeo (fermented skate, for the daring)

Mokpo is known for Korea’s infamous fermented skate dish called “hongeo.” Skate is caught around the nearby island of “Heuksan-do,” and sold all over town here. The fermented skate is notorious for its strong smell and unique taste. I am biased because I love it. I think it tastes like a well-fermented bloomy-rind cheese or strong mushroom, with a bit of menthol or Sichuan pepper. Other people describe the taste as closer to the way a urinal smells…so keep that in mind before deciding if you want to try it for yourself.

Here are 2 great places to try it. The first is for advanced users, and the second is for those looking to dip their toes into the world of hongeo for the first time.

덕인홍어집 (Deogin Hongeo Jip)

This is a legendary old-school hongeo house that does it right. Well-aged skate is paired with sliced pork and old kimchi. This place is for the super adventurous or well-initiated, as it caters to locals who know the taste well and crave it. (This is my regular when I visit Mokpo.)

Naver Link: https://naver.me/Gn04Zt5H

Address: 전남광주 목포시 영산로73번길 1-1

Phone: 061-242-3767

2. 조아홍 (Jo-ah Hong)

This tiny shop seems to have a singular mission to spread the love of hongeo to those who might not be so familiar with it. Call ahead or send a message to ask for a tasting, or buy a small packaged box that is easy to try on your own time. The hongeo here is lightly fermented, much less pungent, and more approachable. You can also reserve a table for a hongeo course dinner and learn directly from the chef. Reservations can be made via Naver.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/5k7zoDyN

Address: 전남광주 목포시 번화로 40 전남 목포시 중앙동1가 6-7

Phone: 0507-1427-4230

Baendengi-Hwe (Raw sardines)

Locals here call this dish,“Song-oh hwe,” which is a dialect word for “baendengi.” This confuses even non-local Koreans, as song-oh is the word for trout. But trust me. They aren’t serving raw trout at these local port locations. Really, there is just one key place I recommend here, but occasionally the line gets so long or they sell out, so it is good to have a backup if you want to try this delicacy.

만선식당 (Manseon Sikdang)

Honestly, this might be my favorite raw fish house in Mokpo and maybe even in Korea. Not only are the fresh sliced sardines incredibly special here, but the table fills to the brim with local Jeonnam-style banchan. This is the kind of table you won’t see in Seoul: nothing imported, nothing bought in, all handmade by the auntie-chefs who run this place like army generals. It’s small, with a low ceiling, but intimate and local. Be sure to order their seabream “orok-tang” as a finisher as well.

Be sure to arrive early or prepare for a bit of a wait. Locals flock here nightly, and it can get very busy.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/F5DoPfrZ

Address: 전남광주 목포시 서산로 2 만선식당

Phone: 061-244-3621

선경준치회집 (Seongyeong Junchi Hwe Jip)

Just up the street is another legendary spot serving this dish. Also very reputable. This is a great backup if Manseon is a bit too busy. Really, you can’t go wrong here as well.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/F3TX64w8

Address: 전남광주 목포시 해안로57번길 2

Phone: 061-242-5653

Raw Chicken Pub Food

Jeonnam is known for having clean ingredients, including free-roaming chickens raised on large farms. As such, nearby regions such as Haenam are famous for many chicken dishes, including raw chicken (consume at your own risk!). In Mokpo, there are a few pubs selling raw chicken gizzards and raw chicken feet, which have become local favorites for anju. Here I will share the only pub you should go to for these dishes as well as a more traditional Jeonnam chicken restaurant if you want something a bit more elaborate.

88포장마차 (88 Pojang Macha)

From 5pm until 3am, this legendary pub is pumping out incredible anju. Not only are they famous for the aforementioned raw chicken dishes, but their seafood salads and fried pork dishes are among some of the best in Korea. The gimbap is a must here as well! This is the perfect place to end your night in Mokpo. Soju, beer, and incredible anju to pair with the drinks.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/G0DXgdSv

Address: 전남광주 목포시 영산로329번길 3-1 88포장마차

Phone: 061-276-8248

2. 산너머옛집 (San Nomo Yet-Jip)

If you want Jeonnam-style chicken dishes, this is the place. You can buy a large domestic “tojongdak” to be prepared (3-4 people) in 3 different course styles. Style 2 includes the raw dishes, but for the less adventurous, you can spring for the “jumulok” instead: chicken is marinated in a spicy gochujang sauce before being grilled and eaten with ssam. This is a countryside rustic food. I would call ahead if possible.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/FuN8sZ9h

Address: 전남광주 목포시 해양대학로187번길 10 해양대학로 187번길 10

Phone: 061-244-7854

Marinated Crab

Mokpo is also famous for its marinated blue crab dishes, notably spicier here than in other regions. The crab meat is mixed with spicy sauce and rice to make a unique food that many Korean people travel to experience in this city. Below are two great options for this dish.

장터식당 (Jangteo Sikdang)

This is by far the most famous restaurant serving this dish. As such, expect a long wait. Raw crab meat is blended with their tangy, spicy sauce, mixed in rice, and eaten with dried seaweed. While it may be busy, it is delicious.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/FO9ovcVc

Address: 전남광주 목포시 영산로40번길 23 장터식당

Phone: 061-244-8880

목포돌게장 (Mokpo Dolgae-jang)

Honestly, this might be my first pick. It’s not as famous as the one above, but the marinated seafood set here is an incredible mix of Mokpo seafood. Crab, salmon, shrimp, and turbanshell are all served in a plate of their signature soy marinade.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/5ch6dHbn

Address: 전남광주 목포시 해안로 174 목포돌게장

Phone: 0507-1476-7142

Fried Duck Legs

Mokpo takes the standard fried chicken and beer to another level with this one. Duck legs are expertly cut to form easy-to-eat medallions on the bone, breaded, and deep-fried. These beer-snack morsels are the perfect end to any night in Mokpo and a must-try dish when you’re in town. Here are my two favorite spots.

용당반점 (Yongdang Banjeom)

This is the most famous place in Mokpo which has been serving this dish for decades. This restaurant is likely the original Mokpo-style fried duck legs. I say go here if you can. But expect long lines and a chance they will sell out. Also, they are only open until 8pm, which can make it a bit difficult for a late-night beer snack to cap off your night.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/xxYVpySF

Address: 전남광주 목포시 영산로270번길 19

Phone: 061-272-4010

선희네호프 (Seonhui-ne Hof)

This late-night pub does it nearly as well as the original, and they are open until 12:30am, making it much easier to enjoy. If you have delivery apps, you can also get the duck legs to your doorstep.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/FzsEk7cp

Address: 전남광주 목포시 양을로41번길 5-1

Phone: 0507-1399-9366

Mokpo Cafes and Historical Sites

If you’re like me, sightseeing is mostly biding time between meals. Luckily, Mokpo has great cafes and historical sites to explore while you digest. Here are a few must-see places, and a much more comprehensive list will be shared on the Naver Map.

Mokpo Modern History Museum

There is so much to like about this incredible museum, and I think it is a destination worth seeking out on a trip to Korea. This building was built on the hill overlooking Mokpo and the port in 1898 by the Japanese occupiers. Now, the museum offers a comprehensive history of how Japan abused and exploited the land and resources of Korea, using Mokpo as a central port for exporting Korean rice and other resources to Japan. Not only is it a beautiful way to see Mokpo and understand the history of Korea and modern Korean food, but it is also a way to understand the difficult past that shaped this country.

행복이가득한집카페 (Happy Garden House Cafe)

This 100-year-old Japanese house is beautifully maintained as a great cafe and the perfect spot for a rest between meals and sightseeing. The fig bingsoo is a must here if you’re looking for a dessert. (Figs are grown abundantly in Mokpo and available from mid-summer until early fall.)

화신연쇄점 (Hwasinyeon Department Store)

Despite the name, this is not a department store anymore. It is a cafe that now occupies what was once a Japanese-style department store built in the 1930s. The modern architecture gives this cafe a very unique atmosphere, and the coffee drinks are excellent.

Mokpojin Naval Base Site

If you’re okay with a short hike up a steep hill, you can visit this historic naval base built during the Joseon Dynasty. This is a beautiful spot to take pictures of the city and port.

Beyond Mokpo

Mokpo can also act as a hub for a few deeper food-driven adventures. If you were to extend your trip for more than 1 night, here are some unique places to discover with unbelievable food culture.

OPTIONAL 1-NIGHT EXTENSION: Take a ferry to spend 1 night on Hongdo

From the Mokpo ferry terminal, there are several interesting and off-the-beaten-path places you can go. If you’re looking for something incredibly unique, a bit more remote and adventurous, or want to try your hand at fishing, I recommend a ferry ride to Hongdo. This small island is the furthest west you can possibly go in Korea but is surprisingly well set up for visitors. There are several small hotels and wild-caught raw fish restaurants on the island, including a late-night haenyeo village where locals gather to enjoy sliced raw fish and soju.

Once off the ferry, your hotel will pick up your bags on small mopeds while you walk to your destination. Don’t be surprised if the ajjumas and haenyeo offer you free beer as you walk in, as they coax you to visit them later and enjoy raw fish at their tents. One side of the island has a beach where locals swim in pristine waters. You can even dive for abalone if you want.

A few raw fish restaurants can be found by the beach, offering wild-caught fish. You can hike the incredible mountains and even order some fried chicken for a late-night snack from the island’s sole chicken restaurant.

Be sure to book the boat tour at the main dock, leaving twice daily, to see the incredible cliffs around the island. Toward the end of the boat tour, a small fishing boat will meet your boat, slicing raw fish for about 10,000 to 20,000 won per plate. Be sure to bring cash, as they hand over wild-caught sliced fish to patrons, which you can enjoy in the ship’s dining area. This is one of the most unique dining experiences you can find anywhere in the world.

Yes, this island is super remote. But there is plenty to do and see for a 1-night trip. And the food is incredible. (I think I might include this whole trip in a future guide. In the meantime, please DM me if you need help with the logistics of this one.)

I haven’t done it myself, but my friend Andy often rents a local fishing boat team to take him amberjack fishing on this island.

Be aware that the ferry can take time and the water may be choppy. Those with motion sickness may have a difficult time getting here.

Drive to the Wolchulsan Green Tea Plantations

If you have access to a car, driving just a bit east will grant you access to some of the most beautiful and under-visited sites in all of South Korea. Wolchulsan is famous as the area where Dasan Jeong Yak-yong, a renowned scholar, was exiled by the king. He brought with him an obsession with green tea, establishing a plantation at the foot of this beautiful rocky mountain. Today, you can enjoy green tea prepared by the descendants of Dasan Jeong Yak-yong’s understudy (Teashop Link: https://naver.me/G0Duq4gm). This is also one of the most beautiful places in the area for photos.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/5z58sNeX

And this is a food guide, right? So if you plan a trip out here, I recommend one of two local specialties.

양지가든 (Yangji Garden)

This incredible restaurant serves local specialties, including rare mudskipper dishes. Mudskippers are caught abundantly in the summers in the mudflats around Mokpo and Gijang. These mudskippers are eaten raw or in a thick gravy-like soup.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/FxFhPdjg

Address: 전남광주 영암군 삼호읍 녹색로 1392-23 1층

Phone: 0507-1492-3640

돼지연탄석쇠불고기 배진강 (Dwaeji Yeontan Seoksoe Bulgogi Bae Jin-gang)

Just a bit further west, you will find Gangjin’s famous grilled pork village. This tiny village is famous for marinated pork grilled over yeontan charcoal briquettes, served alongside handmade Jeonnam-style banchan.

The best part is you can easily visit the famous “Jeolla Provincial Military Garrison Fortress Site” for a walk after. This was the center of the Joseon Dynasty military in the Jeonnam region and is a fascinating historic site where you can stretch your legs.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/FJbYX3Ny

Address: 전남광주 강진군 병영면 병영성로 107-16

Drive to Muan for Straw Fire Pork

If you have a car, you can also drive just 30 to 40 minutes north of Mokpo to eat at one of the best restaurants on the peninsula. Duam Sikdang has been open since 1954, serving a unique Korean BBQ style cooked over super hot rice straw. The smoky meat is paired with white onion kimchi and chilgae-jang, a local delicacy made by grinding tiny mud crabs with ginger, garlic, chilies, and rice.

Korean foodies consider this a top representative restaurant in Korea, and many make the pilgrimage here. Even though it is remote, prepare for a line of customers who travel far and wide to get a taste.

Naver Link: https://naver.me/5bVsWoDu

Address: 전남광주 무안군 몽탄면 우명길 52 몽탄 두암식당

Phone: 0507-1375-3775

Mokpo Will Draw You Back

Every time I visit Mokpo, I have a stronger desire to come back again. The food seems endless, and the quality is unquestionable. A few days here will open up more questions and ideas about what Korean food is and can be.

But I hope this guide can help you get out of Seoul and into the heart of what many Korean foodies say is the best city for food in the country. I will include all these spots and many more on my Mokpo Food Guide Map. These are tried and tested places I love.

Eat on, my friends!

We’re taking a break from Korea and Korean food for a minute. Well, a week. A week of eating in Sabah, Malaysia, a place Courtney and I have never been before. Which means we’re eating it all up and everything is new, so it’s easy to want to write it all down and get the emotions, joy, confusion, and excitement; capture it in a few words as we go along.

Welcome to Malaysia! Fook Yuen Cafe

Families jostle for tables, cut-throat. Who’s leaving next? Hovering is a war-like skill mastered by this Sunday crowd coming to get a Sunday meal after shopping at the Sunday market. A massive institution in the center of the city trying its goddamn best to hold it together as the sun to which this city orbits. Buffets of noodles, fried chicken, rice porridge, and a dozen other dishes.

In one corner, ladies spread kaya and butter on bread and toast. Coffee roasted with margarine and sugar is filtered through a sock, dark and caffinated as hell. One cup with a soft-boiled egg and the aformentioned toast is all you need here. Like lightning to the back of the brain, one cup in and you’re ready to conquer the world, with all the heat that awaits you.

This place is chaos under control. And I’ve never been so happy to be back in Southeast Asia. Kopi-tiam, baby!

Since 1892…

Kedai Kopi Yuit Cheong is the oldest restaurant in Kota Kinabalu, run by the same family, now into the 3rd generation. At 11am, they fire up the charcoal and start lining up the satay. We arrived at 11:30 and had to wait in line for a table.

4 lamb, 2 chicken, 2 beef, 2 tripe

We watch them flip the sticks of meat while an old man welcomes us to Malaysia. The owner invites us in and tells us the history of his store. The satay is sweet and savory, dipped in a peanut sauce.

Honestly, the taste was remarkable, but it’s the people that are getting to me by now. Everyone here is happy to see us, treating us like family, taking time to ask us about our lives and who we are. The kindness here is not forced. I feel like an old friend to these people already.

Laksa Wars Pt. 1: Yee Fung Laksa

The world needs more laksa. This curry noodle dish is fast becoming one of the most memorable foods for me. Noodles in a complex layering of flavorful broth. Curry, coconut milk, herbs, spices, calamansi lime, coriander, and protein of choice. From what I understand, there are dozens, maybe even hundreds of variations of laksa. But in KK, the locals argue over which bowl should represent their town.

Yee Fung Laksa is by far the busier and more viral of the two contenders here. But maybe for good reason. Three giant prawns, nearly the size of lobsters, get coated in that deep, rich curry broth.

Yu Kee bak Kut Teh

The world is sleeping on this dish. Pork bone tea. Pork bone broth. A ceremony-like ritual where meats, breads, rice, and veggies are dipped in small cups of broth. Unlimited refill broth that gets warmed up and renewed, sipped slowly, cut and balanced with sharp, astringent black tea.

I tried to order the spleen here, but the auntie told me no. She said to sit down. Don’t worry. I’m giving you my best tonight. In my experience, at legacy restaurants like this, when an auntie tells you “no” and decides your order for you, you shut your damn mouth and listen. You’re about to taste something special.

Suddenly, the table fills with various cuts of pork simmered in that herbal broth, and Auntie starts making a dark black soy glaze sauce with chillies and minced garlic. “Dip everything in the sauce,” she says as she takes my spoon and starts making her favorite combinations and bites for me to try.

I listen. I try. I taste. I savor. I listen again. And I’m thankful for it.

Bak Kut Teh, pork bone tea.

P.S. Get a coconut pudding for dessert.

Durian Season is a Party in KK

There is lightning and a sweet-rotten onion smell in the air. Durian season is at its peak. Thank God, I am at this corner of the universe at this time. Durian vendors chant as they crack the spiny skulls of each fruit with hatchets and machetes, counting the seeds hidden within.

Each durian cultivar is coded into a system with nicknames. D-200: Black Thorn. D-197: Musang King. Durian freaks take notes of taste, texture, flavor. And this street in KK is the Mecca of all durian lovers, as people haggle over prices and argue over quality, night after night.

My main target tonight is to try Sabah wild durian, known as Dalit. This rare delicacy doesn’t have a cultivar. The flesh is like a brick-red Crayola crayon, and can only be enjoyed during peak season in Borneo.

If I ever moved to Southeast Asia, it would be first for the kindness of the people here. But second, it would be for durian. Even now, 1 week past, I am craving it again.

For over six decades, the braising broth in this back alley jokbal restaurant in Seoul’s famous jokbal (braised pig trotter) alley has never stopped boiling, building layers of flavor and depth over time. It’s hard to imagine that this broth has been simmering for nearly twice as long as I have been alive. That is, until you enter the alleyway/kitchen and smell it for yourself.

The smell of the intense porky broth nearly stings your nostrils with a deep, almost burnt-caramel-like smell mixed with what I can only describe as hot dogs (I know it sounds weird, but that is what hit me). Your salivary glands activate automatically as you stand there, watching the chefs stir the pig trotters cooking in that dense, time-thickened liquid.

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I was riding on the train from Busan to Daejeon today when a large crew of what seemed like foreign social media influencers, surrounded by a dozen or so Korean handlers, boarded. When the excited travelers finally settled in, one handler came by to ask if they would like a sandwich or gimbap for their breakfast, holding a bag for them to choose.

“What’s gimbap?” one asked, which immediately surprised me. How could anyone fly all the way to Korea, enter this culture, and invest time being here without knowing gimbap?

One at a time, the visitors made faces at the mention of seaweed, asking instead for the sandwich.

This, I believe, was an act of disrespect.

Cultural Territory

The word “territory” elicits the idea of borders, dividing lines, land, and resources owned and protected by regulations, laws, and sometimes force. When territory is invaded, war breaks out and people get hurt or killed. The lasting effects eventually lead to deep-seated misunderstandings and prejudice for those on the other side of the line. “Territory” itself implies tribalism and protection from “others.”

I believe culture also has territory in much the same way. The borders are not drawn on a map, and the regulations and laws are not scrutinized by political figures, making cultural territory much more difficult to navigate without causing unintentional damage. But the damage can be real and lasting.

Cultural territory, in the broadest sense, includes the mores, rituals, rules, and customs shared by a group of people; it can also be reduced to smaller communities within groups and even individual families. For example, if you were to come over to my late grandmother’s house and refuse to eat her sour cream cookies, you better be damn sure the rest of your time with her would sting with a pall of awkwardness.

And we can imagine a scenario with the aforementioned travelers. We can imagine that the Korean, hosting this group from another culture, felt nervous about buying the gimbap for these guests. “Maybe I will buy some sandwiches, just in case,” he probably thought. Perhaps he has memories of sharing gimbap with his friends and family. Perhaps the gimbap, maybe subconsciously, meant something more to him than these Spanish visitors could ever know. And when they made a face when hearing the word “seaweed,” opting instead for the sandwich, the Korean learned not to be quite as vulnerable about sharing his culture next time. I am projecting a lot into this scenario, but just take the goddamn gimbap next time.

On the other hand, respectful exchange between territories can lead to enrichment for both parties. With political territory, you share and trade resources. But when cultural territory is respectfully met and exchanged, something much stronger begins to happen: you learn. You learn about fellow humans and how they live, laugh, eat, sing, pray, etc. You learn about yourself and your own culture. You learn that borders exist but are, for the most part, fabricated and divisive. A back-and-forth exchange can emerge that helps you realize humanity has more in common than less. So just take the goddamn gimbap next time.

Restaurants as Cultural Territory

This is why I love restaurants and why I am addicted to visiting them.

The restaurant is an open invitation into cultural territory that involves a transaction. The bill is your visa of entry, giving you access to a cultural territory that would otherwise be blocked. Now, in a much more liberating environment, you can explore another culture and what they experience without fear of causing harm.

Can you disrespect cultural territory in a restaurant? Of course. I’m not saying that just because you pay for what you eat, you now have permission to be hostile in that territory. But tasting something like butod (sago worms) in Borneo might feel a bit more stressful if being offered in the home of a Sabah native family than in a small cafe in Kota Kinabalu. If you don’t want to try it, order something else. It’s that simple.

There is a restaurant in Seoul called Manpo Makguksu run by a family of North Korean refugees serving North Korean-style steamed chicken and North Korean dishes that someone like me would otherwise have absolutely no access to. I recently visited here with my friend Bart of IGoBart fame. Bart is someone who constantly crosses cultural territory and respectfully grows and learns along the way. I admire the hell out of him.

As we sat there, a North Korean defector came to meet Bart, who has covered the Korean War and its highly nuanced effects extensively. For the defector, this restaurant was a way to enter back into his cultural territory and enjoy the food he remembers back home. So here, on the same day, a fat white American, a giant Dutch man, and a North Korean refugee who escaped tragedies my privileged mind would never comprehend were all together tasting food from the Pyeongyang-do region of North Korea. Each bite, dipped into the spicy mustard sauce, that magic North Korean sauce, was a gateway to sharing and understanding. It was this restaurant that allowed it to happen.

I asked the defector, “Is this restaurant close to the original?”

“Absolutely!” he responded. “I come here often when I miss the food of my home.”

At that moment, the DMZ just felt a little less real: a political border, not a human border. A border laid with countless landmines meant to blow the legs off of anyone who tried to cross. But this man crossed it. Somehow, he crossed that political border and found his way back through this chicken dish. And what a miracle, a great honor, that I too can taste the same food, even share a meal with him.

What I Had to Learn

When entering these spaces, we should be aware that we are, indeed, in another territory. Making faces, spitting out food, leaving “negative reviews” because it is something you’re not accustomed to can be hostile to that territory. We have a visceral reaction when we see it online because, deep down, we know it’s hostile to the culture and the hands that made the food. But there are other less obvious hostile acts we can commit when inside another territory.

Here are the two biggest mistakes I’ve had to cautiously work on over the years.

1. It’s not yours to dismiss or publicly belittle

If you follow me on social media, you may know that I don’t make negative reviews. I don’t “review” food at all, and I never want to be a “reviewer.” I want to tell cultural stories and the things I’ve learned about myself while in these territories. At this point, I can’t imagine stepping across a cultural border and making some judgment call on whether it tastes right or wrong to me.

This may sound extreme, but when visiting another culture, denying some food offered to you on the basis of it feeling foreign to you is an act of dismissal. Turning one’s nose away, or even saying something tastes bad or isn’t for you, is disrespectful (you may think it, but there’s no reason to share it).

When inside of another cultural territory, what value is there in sharing that you don’t like the way something tastes? What do you accomplish, as an outsider, by telling the world that something tastes weird or gross? The people feeding you likely rely on this food to support their families. This can drive those sharing their culture to think twice about offering authentic experiences to outsiders. Maybe this is why we get so many half-assed, tourist-driven restaurants that cut corners or alter recipes, robbing the world of authentic experiences, in an attempt to bend their cultural territory to please the ones who bought the ticket inside in the first place.

Save that for when you are in your own cultural territory. When inside another cultural territory, it is not the time or place to evaluate and judge whether something is “good” or “bad.” I know I might get some pushback on this one, but when I see people visibly recoiling at food in another culture, I can’t help but see them as childish.

2. It’s not yours to own.

I’ve lived in Korea, a cultural territory that is not my own, for 10 years now. Because of my social media and TV presence, I have had the opportunity to step into countless kitchens, travel to every corner of the country, and learn from grandmas and uncles about their regional recipes and secrets. Now, many people tell me that I am an “expert” on Korean food. The word makes me wince every time I hear this. What’s worse is when my Korean friends tell me that I must know more about Korean food than them.

This is not possible, simply because it is not my cultural territory. I am a guest here, learning from the people who know more than me. I may have entered more kitchens than the average person, but that doesn’t mean I have lived with the generations of knowledge passed down from families. I will never know what it is like to grow up eating Korean food. I will never know what it is like to be a Korean child being teased for the smell of their gimbap at their school overseas. I will never understand the horrifying reasons that my Korean grandmother refuses to make buddae jiggae.

This cultural territory cannot be mine, and it never will be. Cultural territory is not something to conquer but to visit and learn from. It is something we are invited into and, if we’re lucky, are allowed experience. Visiting restaurants, I have found, is the easiest way to keep on learning. This is why I will continue to do so, as long as the invitation stays open.

Scars of the Korean War penetrate the fabric of Busan. The same could be said of the entire country, of course, but Busan feels a bit different. During the war, Busan was the only safe haven for South Korea, as the northern forces pushed their way through the entire country. For a time, Busan became the capital of South Korea. In 1950, a massive humanitarian rescue mission was initiated to evacuate fleeing Koreans from the Hamheung region of North Korea, landing in Busan. Over 100,000 North Korean refugees took refuge in this southern port city. Hardship on top of hardship on top of more hardship. It’s cultural territory I can’t cross, no matter how many bowls of cold noodles I taste.

Today, I’m visiting “Naeho Naengmyeon,” a Hamheung-style naengmyeon (cold noodle) shop started by one of said refugees. This naengmyeon shop is perhaps the most historic in South Korea, tracing back to 1919, with the original restaurant from Naeho village in the Hamheung region. It’s so historic that it was even featured in the famous “Sikgaek” comic book series by renowned epicurean Hu Young Man.

This is exactly why I’m starting here: the Bosu-Dong Book Alley. This book alley began when a refugee couple from North Korea began selling used books and magazines to get by in the lean years after the war. Now, stores packed from floor to ceiling with books act more as backdrops for Instagram posts.

Today, I’m here to find Volume 27 of the comic book “Sikgaek,” written by renowned epicurean Hu Young Man. This seminal work documents the history and philosophy of Korean food while telling the story of two chefs traveling the country to learn about the food that shapes the culinary traditions of their country. Hu Young Man, famously, traveled throughout Korea himself, using real restaurants and their owners as characters, heroes in my mind, in the books. And Naeho Naengmyeon happens to be featured prominently in this volume.

As I wandered the alley, peering into store after store, asking for Volume 27, I wondered if it were a futile attempt at meaningless romanticism. “We don’t have that one.” “That’s too popular!” “Check the next store!” Finally, the owner of one store sprang to life like lightning when I asked the question, and I was soon walking out with a copy of the comic book. Today’s mission was still on.

The Family that Escaped with a Recipe

Lee Yeong Soon opened her noodle shop in Naeho Village in Heungnam, South Hamgyong Province, in 1919, where locals lined up to try her recipe. The original name of her restaurant was Dongchun Noodle House; her reputation for making incredible noodles spread rapidly. In Hamheung, many locals simply referred to these noodles as nongma-guksu ("starch noodles"), rather than thinking of them as a separate dish called naengmyeon. It wasn’t until the war forced people like Lee Yeong Soon to relocate, the identity of Hamheung “naengmyeon,” as it’s known in South Korea, began to form.

In December of 1950, 6 months after war broke out, roughly 100,000 North Korean refugees were transported aboard dozens of American, South Korean, and merchant vessels in what was known as the Hungnam Evacuation. Lee Yeong Soon fled North Korea with her family and her recipe, landing in Uam-dong, Busan, displaced from her village and her life.

Now I could conjure up some story about how tough it must have been to go through what she did. I could try to describe it in vivid language and seriousness to convey the tragedy. But it wouldn’t be genuine. I will never know the struggle and hardship. I will never know the experience of this woman and her daughter. All I know is that I can taste her food, her recipe, her hands, an infinitesimally small part of the multitudes of her life. Thanks to the family that continued her legacy onward.

In 1953, Lee Yeong Soon opened “Naeho Naengmyeon” in Uam-dong, Busan. They chose the name as many refugees would remember the name of the famous village where they once ate the best nogma-guksu of their lives. I can’t imagine the beacon of hope that must have washed over these displaced people to see a beloved institution from their home region opening up in Busan.

Hamheung naengmyeon uses potato starch to form super thin, springy, and chewy noodles. These noodles are smothered in an aged “bibim” sauce composed of pepper powder, pureed pears, vinegar, garlic, onion, ginger, and secrets. These noodles are then topped with “goawri-hwe:” raw skate marinated in a vinegar-forward and spicy sauce as it ages.

The noodles are intensely flavored, more akin to a spicy and refreshing pickle taste than a savory one. The first time I tasted them, I was really thrown off by it. I am not sure if there is any other food to compare it to. But over the years, I have become completely obsessed with the taste.

2nd-generation owner, Jeong Han Geum, was the innovator in the family. The post-war famine made potato starch scarce, leaving Hamheung naengmyeon houses at a loss. The restaurant credits her with being the first to use wheat flour to make her noodles as one of the originators of the now ubiquitous “Busan Milmyeon.”

Milmyeon is thicker and still chewy, with an amazingly fragrant wheat flavor. Now, you can find milmyeon restaurants all over the city, making it one of Busan’s representative foods. Jeong Han Geum developed this recipe around 1959, and they still serve it here today.

3rd Generation and Beyond

Yoo Sang-Mo is the son of 2nd-generation owner Jeong Han Geum and the man who most enthusiastically shares the story of his family’s legacy. His wife, Lee Chun-Bok, is officially recognized as the 3rd generation successor, dedicating her life to serving customers her grandmother’s recipe. But Yoo Sang-Mo is the one who is dedicated to sharing its history.

He cries as he remembers the history in vivid detail, pointing to a hand-drawn map of Naeho village as he describes his ancestors’ longing to return home someday when the conflict with the North ceased. That day never came. As outsiders stepping into this cultural territory, the best we have is to listen to this great man tell the stories his family had to endure. And to sip and slurp each noodle with appreciation for what it represents.

His son, now 4th-generation owner Yoo Jae-Woo, is the one I am closest with. Despite the distance he has from his family’s tragedy, he understands the importance of preserving their legacy. When I came here long ago for my YouTune channel, he welcomed me into the kitchen. And when I arrived, years later, for SBS, he said yes, despite already being full to capacity with customers. He taught me the recipes and secrets, and my admiration grew for him when I saw the respect and dignity he gave to his staff and workers. Every visit is a meeting with an old friend, and I am sure this historical landmark will continue on for years to come.

Everyone in this family is a hero for their massive impact on Korean cuisine. My mission today was to get their autographs placed on the “Milmyeon” chapter of Volume 27 of my copy of “Sikgaek.” This book, purchased from a North Korean refugee’s bookstore, will remind me of how food can represent pain, suffering, and longing. But it can also represent hope, comfort, and legacy.

This is Naeho Naengmyeon in Busan.

I’m a professor working full-time at KAIST University in South Korea. The subject I teach has nothing to do with this newsletter, but many people seem curious about that. I teach technical communications: technical writing, proofreading, editing, presentation skills, etc. all in the realm of scientific research and engineering. But I’m not going to get into that part of my life here because I use this other side of me to escape from all that. Writing can be selfish at times.

My absolute obsession and passion is in crossing cultural territories through food. Cultures have territory just like countries have territory, and when invited across those borders, it can enrich the world. So long as you keep the doors in your mind wide open. Hell, burn the doors in your mind to the fucking ground.

When we enter cultural territories without blockades in our minds, we learn something new about ourselves and about the world. And the ones sharing their cultural resources with you feel happy. It’s an easy claim to prove. If I cook for you and you eat it up and make yummy noises, I’m going to be happy. If you sniff the damn thing first and slowly swallow, this newsletter is not going to be for you.

If you’re interested in burning those doors down with me, exploring deeper food culture, learning from the people who live it, making yummy noises all along the way, then join the community. Let’s explore and share culture territories togethers!

What to Expect

I will send at least 4 newsletters per month focused on culinary stories from my home base in Korea and beyond! Occasional essays and interviews will also be shared, case by case.

The regular lineup:

Notes from the field, bi-monthly (free)

These bi-monthly notes will include poems, mini essays, philosophical thoughts, mistakes, and lessons I’ve found while traveling and eating across Korea, as well as pictures and videos taken along the way.

Matjip Focus, First Friday of every Month (alternating free and paid)

Each month, I will go in-depth on a single restaurant with historic merit. These will be the places I love, including their secret recipes and techniques.

Guides to Open Doors, Monthly (paid)

Each month, I will release a guide for a specific city or food in Korea, as well as a custom and exclusive NAVER Map link that you can use to plan your own culinary journey. The guides will dive deep into historical context and explain why the food featured matters.

If you’re obsessive about how food can break down cultural barriers, then subscribe to this newsletter. I hope we can dive in together and create a like-minded community of door-burners.

HANWOO DEUNGSHIM AT DAEDO SIKDANG, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

First is the north, starting in Seoul. The legendary “Daedo Sikdang” in Wongshipni is now celebrating their 62nd year in operation, and they invited me for a special meal to celebrate. For Koreans, this restaurant has served generations of families and literally wrote the book on the famous “deung-shim” cut. In fact, without their popularity, deungshim might not even be as popular as it is today.

Deungshim is the “rib-eye” cut, but in Korean butchery, they divide it into two main pieces: the front deungshim and the back deungshim. The back is seen as lower quality, a bit tougher, and larger. The real prize is in the front piece, running along the back of the cow up to the neck. Daedeo Sikdang deals exclusively with the front piece, wet-aged and expertly butchered in their signature style.

Luckily, I have learned a lot about Hanwoo beef by continually visiting my friend Minseok’s farm and processing factory. Every visit, I learn something new about this incredible product. But seeing the grading process has burned in my memory, and I think about that day every time I eat this incredible beef.

At Hanwoo processing factories, 3 government workers judge the meat by analyzing the deungshim. The marbling is measured by noting the distance between the fat and protein, and finally a grade is given: 1, 1+, or the coveted 1++. Many measures are taken to ensure there is no corruption among the judges, as the price of 1++ grade Hanwoo is much higher. 2 workers independently submit their judgment to a 3rd judge. The 2 grades must match before the final judge stamps the beef with the grade. These workers must change factories, moving about the country, every 3 months to guard against bribes and relationships formed between the Hanwoo producers and government judges.

Every time the fat gets stamped with a 1++, I can feel Minseok’s heart flutter, even though he tries to restrain himself. I don’t think it’s money that motivates him, though. It’s the passion, study, and dedication to raising the best quality meat in the world that pushes him. I love just being around someone like him who is so driven toward perfection.

Eventually, meat like this gets sold to 3rd parties and eventually finds itself in meat lockers like the ones that greet you at Daedo Sikdang. 1++ Deungshim, wet-aged to perfection, is grilled on a cast-iron pan for the perfect sear.

I AM A GUK-BAP PEST

These days, I’ve been hitting the gym hard, trying to make sure this eating journey is sustainable long-term. It has also shifted my focus towards protein and getting plenty of it. My fat body needs a strong heart, and a strong heart needs more muscle, and more muscle needs more protein, or so they say.

Lukily, I live in Daejeon, which locals know is famous for beef rice stew. Every tourist goes to a place called “Tapyeong Seo-Gukbap,” and I get it. It’s an incredible bowl of soup. But their kimchi…that wet imported kimchi…It’s really their only fault. I still got love for the place. But a taxi driver once told me of another place, one without as much viral flare, doing the same food but for a much cheaper price.

Thus, my 38-year-old aging fat self has claimed this beautiful restaurant as my post-workout meal. Fresh sliced raw lean beef, laid out on the table, next to rich and deep Hanwoo beef broth soup and cabbage. The best part? A single bowl of gukbap here is just 6,000won (like 4USD at today’s rate). And they serve hanwoo!

That’s cheaper than the price of an Americano! That’s like 4 bowls of soup for just 1 pizza! Why would you order a burger for 12,000won if you can get 2 full meals? Don’t you know the price of that movie ticket costs 2.35 bowls of gukbap? I can buy a KTX ticket to eat in Seoul or 6.778 bowls of gukbap!! This is what they call a “gukbap-chung.” Someone whose entire identity hinges on the satisfying bowl tilt toward the end of the meal. Count me among them, and count me a regular here!

DIVING INTO INCHEON FOOD WITH JAMANE

Jamane, a Korean-Australian follower, contacted me and asked about hosting a food walk with him in Incheon. I will take any excuse to eat in Incheon, as the city has some very surprising hidden gems, and it’s quite far from Daejeon, where I am based. But what made me the most interested was that this was the first time I would be showing someone around a city where they themselves had roots.

Jamane visits Korea from Australia and stays with his grandmother. His aunts and uncles still live in the area, and he was already familiar with this city. So I knew I had to dig a bit deeper and look beyond the typical.

We first took a taxi down to Boksong-Po (북성포), a harbor hidden away behind Incheon’s industry where fishing boats sell wild-caught fish and a whole back alley on stilts sells fresh hwe. As we rolled up, it was nothing but dirt and backhoe loaders, wiping out a once lively and local fish market. The taxi driver hung around, knowing we would be getting back in the car to go somewhere else.

Korea is like this, constantly shifting and destroying the old but refusing to replace it with the cultural significance of what was once there. In Korea, high-rise buildings represent profit and prosperity, and while places like Boksong-po surely needed updating for safety reasons, I know the memory and cultural significance of this port will be completely washed away forever. This happens constantly here; my old videos are becoming like an archive of what used to be here. Seoul is perhaps the worst at this, demolishing the old and selling to the largest bidder, with no contract or promise to include the culture that was once there.

It feels strange that I have lived here long enough to reminisce… but life is too short to dwell on the things I cannot control.

Washbasin Naengmeyon

Jamane and I pressed onward, instead having lunch at the famous Hwapyong-dong Washbasin Naengmyon Street. This is another Incheon food with an interesting history! Check out my new naengmyeon guide for the deeper details about this dish.

After the meal, we stood outside the restaurant with the original owner, his son, and Jamane, three Incheon men with roots here. I admit, I felt out of place. Even though Jamane was born and raised in Australia, it became clear that a large piece of him belongs to this city, this food, and these people. Feeling out of place can be good. It reminds you that you don’t own anything or anyone or any food or any history. This is theirs, and they invited me in, and I feel grateful for being out of place.

Jukjae Coffee

We then went to an old dabang in a basement of Sinpo-dong. Dabangs are the old-school cafes and tea houses that are quickly disappearing in Korea. The owner was listening to Christian gospel on the TV with the volume pumping when we came in. She looked about 80, and we had to practically shout for her to know we came in. It was clear that her hearing was slowly slipping away from her.

We ordered “sangwha-cha,” which she is famous for. But she quickly went to the fridge and brought us 2 Budwisers. Again, we had to practically shout “SANG-WHA-CHA” for her to finally understand us. She was so proud and surprised that a “waygookin” came to try her sanghwa-cha.

Sanghwa-cha is a medicinal tea with cinnamon, jujube, licourice, and other herbs and spices, typically with a raw egg yolk cracked in. Many Dabang use poweder mixes, but here, she grinds everything herself.

After serving us the tea, she made phone calls to tell her friends that forigners had come into her shop, and she treated us as if we were some dignitaries in her shop, doting on us and taking care of us.

When she finally retires, this too will pass into memory.

Ongi Jokbal

I knew I had to take Jamane to what might be my favorite jokbal house in Korea. Ongi jokbal is a 3rd generation local legend that has perfected soft and herbal korean pig trotters. Many people don’t know that jokbal is actually a North Korean inspired dish, invented by refugees in Seoul who escaped North Korea after the war. Here, they still use malt taffy, closer to the original dish, instead of syrup in the broth. The seed broth here is over 10 years old, and her soy garlic sauce is made by steaming raisins, dates, and dried apricots before being blended into a garlic-infused soy sauce.

At this point, I could see Jamane acting a bit surprised. He said this was the best food he’d ever had in Korea and started to express how he never knew Incheon had such good food. I was so grateful that I could plug him into what he has been missing from his family’s hometown.

Dabok-Jip and Incheon Suji-Tang

We ended the night at one of my favorite restaurants in all of Korea. Dabok Jip serves “suji tang,” a famous Sinpo-dong drinking food consisting of beef knee boiled in a thick and rich beef broth that nearly resembles gravy. There are 2 restaurants remaining that serve this style of Incheon food, but I like this place because of the poet’s face that hangs over the door.

… was a poet who frequented this spot so much that the owner memorialized him when he passed away in 2003 by hanging his face over the door. Inside, it feels like nothing has changed. It feels safe from the constant destruction happening all around it. It feels like the poet is somehow protecting something sacred that should never be lost. It should never be lost. I hope this place is never lost.

Naengmyeon, Korea’s famous cold noodle dish, attracts a devout, almost cult-like following of epicurean obsessives who seek the best bowls throughout the country. These “nengmyeon-er” (a slang term mashing naengmyeon + lover together into a single term) devote blog posts and social media channels to evaluating each bowl with intense scrutiny, logging each slurp and sip as if charting a map in the new world.

But as with many Korean dishes, the knowledge of what naengmyeon actually is, its history and its origins, get distorted when transferred between languages. Simply put, understanding naengmyeon is difficult. It’s difficult even for Koreans who simply aren’t in the cult themselves. This gets compounded due to its history being primarily orally shared, not written down in any official encyclopedia.

I am among the obsessed, fully indoctrinated into the naengmyeon cult. I have traveled across Korea for over 10 years seeking bowl after bowl, meeting the families and masters who guard their secret recipes. These masters usually hide their knowledge behind a dismissive wall of “It’s not that special; why do you care?” But when you get to it, you see this food tied to hardship, suffering, and seeking comfort in familiar tastes from a displaced home.

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