Cover Korean food is so much more than fried chicken and barbecue—think bubbling hotpots, chewy rice cakes, and raw crab that demands your full attention (Photo: Samkeoli)
Korean food is so much more than fried chicken and barbecue—think bubbling hotpots, chewy rice cakes, and raw crab that demands your full attention (Photo: Samkeoli)
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Think you know Korean food? Think again. These are the soups, stews and feasts that prove the cuisine’s true depth
I’ll confess: I have never met a plate of Korean fried chicken I didn’t want to devour. The crisp batter, the glaze, the way you can’t stop at one piece—it’s a beautiful thing. And Korean barbecue? Don’t get me started on the theatre of it all: the sizzle, the balanced flavour of Hanwoo, Korean beef from the native breed of cattle, and the lettuce wraps. But here’s the truth about Korean food that the casual fan often misses: it has range. Real range—the kind that can reboot you after a night of poor decisions, surprise you with a 35-cm rice cake, drag you to the bottom of the sea, and then dress up for a tasting menu that demands your full attention.
Some hangovers call for remorse. Others demand haejang-guk, a hearty soup that is traditionally consumed the morning after drinking to settle the stomach, rehydrate the body and replenish electrolytes. At Joongang Haejang, the Wan Chai sibling of a Seoul original, that soup arrives gloriously pungent and murky with history. But I often get sidetracked by the gopchang jeongol, a blistering hotpot of beef intestines, mushrooms and tofu in a broth that tastes like it’s been bubbling forever. Rich, spicy and deeply savoury—exactly what you need when your dignity’s in pieces.
Above Joongang Haejang’s gopchang jeongol, a hotpot of beef intestines, is the kind of soulful broth that cures what ails you
Joongang Haejang’s gopchang jeongol, a hotpot of beef intestines, is the kind of soulful broth that cures what ails you
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For tteokbokki—those glossy, thick cylinders of pounded rice cake that are everywhere in Korea, from street carts to late-night snack spots—head to Young Dabang. The dish is simple in theory: rice cakes simmered in a sticky, spicy-sweet sauce until they’re soft on the inside and gloriously chewy on the outside. Young Dabang’s signature version stretches each rice cake to a full 35 centimetres, making them impossible to eat daintily. They’re substantial and come in a customisable pot with fish cakes, quail eggs and ramen noodles. For those who want the comfort without the sweat, the rosé sauce option is a gentler beast, creamier, less likely to fight you. Then, when the pot is nearly empty, they take what’s left—the caramelised dregs, the clinging sauce—and fry it tableside with rice, seaweed and flying fish roe. It’s a second meal built from the memory of the first.
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Above At Young Dabang, tteokbokki gets an upgrade: 35-centimetre rice cakes swimming in a spicy-sweet sauce
At Young Dabang, tteokbokki gets an upgrade: 35-centimetre rice cakes swimming in a spicy-sweet sauce
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The sea gets its due at Samkeoli, a restaurant whose name translates to “where three flavours meet”—seafood, beef and pork—though I’m most interested in the first element. The jogae jeongol, a clam and seafood hotpot, arrives at the table still bubbling, a tidal wave of flavour that demands you stop talking and pay attention. But the ganjang gejang, raw crab marinated in soy sauce, is where the meal becomes something else. You crack the shell open, ease the meat and roe out over a mound of warm rice, and let the marinade soak in. There is no knife or fork, just you, the crab and the quiet understanding that the best things in life require a little mess.
Above The ganjang gejang at Samkeoli, raw crab marinated in soy sauce, is best eaten with warm rice
The ganjang gejang at Samkeoli, raw crab marinated in soy sauce, is best eaten with warm rice
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And when Korean food dresses up, it goes all the way. Hansik Goo, a Tatler Best 20 Restaurant in Hong Kong, opens with a quartet of Hansik (Korean cuisine) starters: cuttlefish seasoned with salted clam sauce, sweet prawn, abalone yukhoe with gochujang and plum, and a composed bite of braised brisket, oyster and aged kimchi—each one a careful assertion of what’s possible when tradition meets precision. Then comes the jeonbok juk, an abalone porridge that could be forgettable in lesser hands, but here, it is quietly devastating, the rice broken down just enough, the sea present but never overwhelming.
So love your fried chicken. Treasure your barbecue. But the real soul of Korean cooking? It’s everything else on the table.
Above A quartet of Korean starters, including cuttlefish, prawn, abalone and braised brisket with oyster
Above The galchi-jeon, pan-fried hairtail fish, is served with a delicate soy-based glaze at Hansik Goo
A quartet of Korean starters, including cuttlefish, prawn, abalone and braised brisket with oyster
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A storyteller by day and a first-class food devourer by night, Fontaine is the Regional Dining Editor at Tatler Asia, overseeing dining content across all regions and shaping the brand’s editorial voice on food, chefs and culinary culture.
She is also Content Lead for Tatler Best and Co-jury Head for Tatler Best Hong Kong and Macau, guiding the awards’ editorial direction and evaluation process. With over a decade in the lifestyle and media industry spanning London and Hong Kong, she brings a cross-regional perspective to the table.
Follow her on Instagram at @fontimes.
