The Easiest Place to Start: Jajangmyeon

And today’s dish sits at the very bottom of the difficulty scale: jajangmyeon (짜장면), the star of Korean-Chinese cuisine.

Korean Chinese food dates back to the early 1900s, and over more than a century it’s been localized so thoroughly that it has really become a Korean cuisine of its own. China has its own version of jajangmyeon, but it’s a completely different dish from what you’ll find in Korea—think of it the way Japanese ramen traces back to China but became something entirely its own.

Korean kids start eating jajangmyeon as early as two or three, and I can honestly say I’ve never met a child who dislikes it (my own son excepted). It’s about as universally crowd-pleasing and inoffensive as food gets. As for what it actually tastes like… that’s genuinely hard to put into words. It tastes like jajangmyeon.

When I was little—about 30 years ago—it was easy enough to come by, but still wasn’t an everyday food. It was the meal my grandparents would treat me to on special occasions, like starting or finishing a school year.

It was also the classic moving-day meal. These days you can get almost anything delivered in Korea, but back then it was one of the few dishes that would come to your door—so on a hectic moving day, lunch was always, without fail, jajangmyeon. It’s a real comfort-memory dish for me.

Lately the trend has shifted again: jajangmyeon has gone upmarket, made with fancier ingredients and priced to match. Sometimes I look at the price and think, *really?* The range is enormous. A long-running old-school place might still charge 7,000 won, while a more upscale or newly opened spot will run 12,000. The priciest I’ve ever seen was at a place called Mutan in COEX, going for 55,000 won—apparently it comes with steak and truffle. Personally, unless you’re a serious foodie, I think around 10,000 won is plenty.

Types of Jajangmyeon, and Its Great Rival: Jjamppong

So is jajangmyeon the only thing worth ordering at a Chinese restaurant? Not at all. As the name “Chinese cuisine” suggests, most places serve a huge variety of dishes—it just happens to be the most famous.

For years I only ever ordered plain jajangmyeon, but once I grew up and realized how many varieties there are, I worked my way through them and went through a serious stir-fried-jajang phase. Here’s the basic idea: regular jajangmyeon is noodles topped with a sauce of onion and vegetables stir-fried in black bean paste, then mixed together. The stir-fried kind (bokkeum-jjajang) is tossed with the noodles as it cooks, so the seasoning soaks in better and, to me, tastes even better. The catch is that many places only make it in portions for two or more, so these days I default to gan-jjajang.

The difference there comes down to whether water is added while cooking the sauce—I find gan-jjajang richer, so it’s my pick. My husband goes the other way: he prefers the soft onions of regular jjajang over the fresh, crisp bite of gan-jjajang, and if there’s a minced-meat version (uni-jjajang) on the menu, that’s his choice. Beyond those, there’s a seafood version with squid and shrimp, a spicy Sichuan-style one, a chili version, and more—so it’s worth picking one to suit your taste.

And then there’s the dish that stands shoulder to shoulder with jajangmyeon at every Chinese restaurant: jjamppong(짬뽕). Some people are jajangmyeon loyalists through and through, but a surprising number of us agonize over the same question before every order—jajangmyeon or jjamppong? I’m firmly in that camp.

When I’m eating jajangmyeon I start craving jjamppong, and when I’m eating jjamppong I’m convinced the black bean noodles would’ve been the better call… the same dilemma, every single time, ha. So many Koreans feel this way that there’s even a half-and-half order of both. Personally, though, splitting it in two somehow mutes the flavor of each, so I don’t recommend it.

These days I do order jjamppong instead fairly often. It’s a spicy noodle soup built around seafood—squid, mussels, shrimp and the like—but I lean heavily toward the beef versions, especially the one made with thin-sliced brisket. If you love a spicy noodle dish, I’d recommend jjamppong too—just know it isn’t quite as beginner-friendly as jajangmyeon.

*Tip:* At most places you can ask to swap the noodles for rice—jajangmyeon becomes jajang-bap, jjamppong becomes jjamppong-bap: noodles out, served over rice instead. It has its own devoted fans. And if you’re a big eater, you can usually pay a little extra for a larger portion of noodles (gopbaegi); my husband, who eats a lot, checks that box every time.

The Signature Sharing Dish: Tangsuyuk

When I go to a Chinese restaurant alone for lunch, I’ll usually just get a single dish and head out. But when a group gets together, the meal feels incomplete without tangsuyuk. Tangsuyuk(탕수육) is deep-fried pork served with a sweet-and-sour sauce. Occasionally we’ll order something else, like kkanpunggi, but nine times out of ten it’s tangsuyuk.

The usual group move is for everyone to pick their own noodle dish and then order a meat dish like tangsuyuk to share. Quality does vary—some places serve it long after frying, or with the meat cut too thin—so if you want to try it, I’d choose a restaurant that reviews specifically praise for its tangsuyuk.

Being such a signature dish, tangsuyuk even splits food-loving Koreans into two camps: the dippers and the pourers. The dippers say you should dip each piece so the batter stays crisp; the pourers argue that dipping is only necessary at places that can’t fry well, and that a restaurant confident in its tangsuyuk serves the sauce already poured on, because the batter won’t go soggy. Honestly, I don’t think it matters either way—but some Koreans really dislike having the sauce poured over everything, so if you’re sharing tangsuyuk with a Korean, it might be worth asking first.

Where to Eat

There are plenty of well-regarded Chinese restaurants, but I don’t think there’s any one place you absolutely have to go—a decently rated Chinese spot near you on Google Maps should do the job just fine. That said, if you’d rather seek out somewhere a little nicer, I’d suggest the Chai797 franchise, which takes a more upscale approach to Korean-Chinese food.

The jajangmyeon, jjamppong, and tangsuyuk in this post are from a restaurant called Junghwa Baekban (중화백반) in Gyodae, a district packed with offices. A Chinese restaurant that thrives in a busy business area is usually a safe bet—and sure enough, I had a genuinely delicious meal.

Then the country grew fast, and at some point jajangmyeon stopped being special. By the time I entered the workforce, Chinese food was a go-to for both team lunches and late-night overtime meals. The menu is varied enough that everyone can order what they want, the prices are reasonable, it’s cooked fast, and they deliver right to the office—pretty much ideal for busy office workers.

If you’re a foreigner who wants to try a wide range of Korean food—or someone who’s found that Korean food isn’t quite to your taste and is looking for something a little different—I really recommend giving Korean-style jajangmyeon and tangsuyuk a try at least once!

Seafood Restaurant List

• Junghwa Baekban (Seocho-gu)
• Chai797 (Jung-gu, Jongno-gu, Seodaemun-gu, Yeongdeungpo-gu, Seocho-gu, Gangnam-gu, Gwangjin-gu..)
• JU (Seocho-gu)

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The Five Royal Palaces & Shrine of Seoul: A Complete Overview

Seoul has five royal palaces: Gyeongbokgung, Changdeokgung, Changgyeonggung, Deoksugung, and Gyeonghuigung.

When I was young, all five looked pretty much the same to me—I couldn’t really tell them apart. But once I learned more about their history, I started noticing the differences. Let me break down each palace as briefly as possible:

Gyeongbokgung: The Heart of Joseon, The Primary Royal Palace

This was the first and main palace built by the Joseon Dynasty (a beopgung, or “primary palace”). It was designed to showcase the king’s authority and dignity—grand, orderly, and imposing.

Main Purpose: The official space for state ceremonies and where the king handled governmental affairs.

Changdeokgung: The Palace Kings Loved Most, Harmony with Nature

If Gyeongbokgung feels like a formal office space, Changdeokgung was more of a home—a place where kings actually lived and spent most of their time.

Main Purpose: When Gyeongbokgung was destroyed by fire, Changdeokgung served as the de facto primary palace for roughly 270 years.

What Sets It Apart: The palace was built following the natural terrain rather than flattening the land artificially. It also features Huwon (the Secret Garden), a masterpiece of traditional Korean landscaping. Highly recommended for nature lovers. Note: Separate reservation required for the Secret Garden.

Changgyeonggung: A Palace Built with Filial Devotion, A Living Space for Royalty

Built to house the royal family’s elders (like the Queen Dowager), this palace sits right next to Changdeokgung.

Main Purpose: Primarily used as a residential space for the royal family.

What Sets It Apart: It has a more intimate, feminine atmosphere compared to other palaces. It carries a painful history of being converted into a zoo during the Japanese occupation but has since been restored. Don’t miss the Great Greenhouse (Dae-onsil)—a Western-style glass structure. Personally, I found it especially beautiful during the nighttime opening, with all the lights on.

Deoksugung: Where Tradition Meets Modernity

Originally a royal residence, it was upgraded to a palace after the Imjin War (Japanese invasion of 1592). This is where Emperor Gojong declared the Korean Empire, signaling Korea’s ambition to become a modern nation.

Main Purpose: A center of diplomacy and politics during the late Joseon period and the Korean Empire era.

What Sets It Apart: Traditional Korean buildings coexist with Western stone architecture (Seokjojeon) in the same space. Seeing a Renaissance-style building inside a palace is quite a unique experience.

Gyeonghuigung: The Quiet Palace in the West

A secondary palace (ignung) built for the king to retreat to in emergencies or to rest.

What Sets It Apart: Most of it was destroyed during the Japanese occupation, and only a portion has been restored. It’s small but offers free admission, and since it sees fewer tourists, it’s a lovely spot for a peaceful stroll while appreciating traditional Korean architecture.

Jongmyo: The Sacred Shrine Where Joseon’s Spirits Rest

Many foreign visitors assume this is a royal tomb, but it’s actually a shrine—not a burial site.

What It Is: The kings’ bodies are buried in the royal tombs (wangneung) scattered across the mountains outside Seoul. Jongmyo, on the other hand, is where the spirit tablets (sinju)—wooden plaques representing the souls of deceased kings and queens—are enshrined. Think of it as Korea’s equivalent of a grand cathedral housing royal memorial tablets, or perhaps a Confucian Pantheon—though rather than religious worship, the focus here is on filial piety (hyo) and ancestral remembrance.

If the palaces represent spaces of life and politics, Jongmyo is a space of spirit and peace.

Note: Except on Saturdays, entry is typically limited to scheduled guided tours only, so be sure to check the tour times in advance.

Which Palace Should You Visit in Seoul?

If I had to recommend just one palace to someone visiting Korea for the first time, it would have to be Gyeongbokgung—the main palace.

If you’ve ever watched a Korean historical drama (sageuk), you’ve probably seen scenes where the king sits in the center while rows of officials stand on either side, responding in unison or presenting their cases. That setting is the main hall of a palace called Jeongjeon, with Gyeongbokgung’s Geunjeongjeon and Changdeokgung’s Injeongjeon being the most famous examples. Between the two, Gyeongbokgung is more grand and imposing—which is why it’s been featured in countless Korean films, historical dramas, and even the opening scene of Golden‘s music video by Huntrix, Netflix’s popular K-pop demon hunter show.

For all these reasons, Gyeongbokgung makes the most sense as a first recommendation. But if someone asked me which palace is my personal favorite, I’d say Changdeokgung without hesitation.

When you step inside Gyeongbokgung, it’s undeniably majestic—but there’s something rigid about it. Everything is sharp, orderly, almost severe. The palace was literally built on flat ground in a strict grid pattern, and apparently the kings found it psychologically stifling. Changdeokgung, on the other hand, was constructed along the natural slopes of the mountain, making it feel much cozier and more comfortable—which is why kings preferred to stay there.

If Gyeongbokgung is the “official headquarters,” then Changdeokgung is the “real home and office” where kings actually ate, slept, and worked. Kings loved Changdeokgung with its beautiful gardens far more than the rigid Gyeongbokgung—and honestly, I feel the same way. I once visited Changdeokgung during a special spring opening when all the doors and windows were left open, and the palace surrounded by spring flowers was absolutely breathtaking. (For some reason, I don’t have a single photo left from that day ) The Secret Garden is the real highlight of Changdeokgung—it requires a separate reservation, but if you’re already visiting the palace, I highly recommend bundling it together.

Hanbok Rental: The Free Entry Perk

Except for Changgyeonggung, all palaces charge a small admission fee—but if you’re wearing hanbok (traditional Korean attire), entry is free.

I personally find hanbok absolutely beautiful, but the truth is, Koreans rarely wear it in daily life outside of childhood or during Seollal (Lunar New Year), the biggest holiday in Korea. After childhood, you might wear it at your wedding—maybe. Even that’s becoming less common because rental fees are so expensive. That’s why when they first announced the “free admission for hanbok wearers” policy, I thought it was a brilliant idea.

Hanbok rental shops started popping up around every palace, and as different styles emerged—from traditional hanbok to saenghwal hanbok (everyday hanbok) and gaeryang hanbok (modernized hanbok)—the palaces became the best place to spot people in hanbok, whether Korean or foreign.

But of course, with the good comes the not-so-good. Hanbok has evolved through many eras and continues to change today, so I can’t outright say anything is “wrong.” But sometimes I see people wearing hanbok that looks so cheap—presumably because rental shops are cutting costs to stay profitable—that it barely resembles hanbok at all.

What I consider classic women’s hanbok in dramas:

To me, traditional hanbok (not saenghwal or gaeryang styles) means a slightly shiny fabric like gongdan (silk satin) with soft, elegant colors. Legitimate hanbok specialty shops charge quite a bit, so I understand that tourist-area rental shops have to compromise on fabric quality.

Traditional hanbok is worn long enough that your feet are just barely visible. But rental shops probably shorten the skirts to prevent the hemlines from wearing out too quickly. I can accept seeing shoes or feet, but I’ve often spotted skirts hiked up to mid-calf, with the inner pants (sokbaji) showing as people walk. Add some never-before-seen glittery gold patterns that look like they were painted on with craft glue, and honestly? It starts to feel like something other than hanbok entirely.

Visit a hanbok expo and you’ll see constantly evolving designs—new patterns, new styles, even suit-like hanbok. So who am I to say what’s “correct”? But in my mind, the essence of hanbok lies in its understated elegance, so I wanted to share my thoughts.

My color combination recommendations for achieving that classic hanbok look:

• For children: Bright primary colors on the skirt or colorful saekdong (rainbow-striped) jeogori (jacket) are perfect—playful and cheerful.
• For young adults: Pastel color combinations, or pairing one bold primary color (either skirt or jeogori) with a very soft, muted shade for the other piece. This creates a gentle, graceful look.
• For older adults: Muted, subtle color combinations, or a dark-toned skirt (like dark green or indigo) paired with a bright but low-saturation jeogori. This gives off a dignified, elegant, and sophisticated vibe.

Color combinations are ultimately a matter of personal taste, but generally I’d recommend: either both pieces in soft, muted tones, or if you use one dark or bold color, balance it with a light, subtle shade on the other.

If there are patterns, I prefer designs where the pattern color is similar to the garment’s base color—so the pattern doesn’t stand out from a distance but rather feels integrated with the hanbok. Royal hanbok often features elaborate patterns, but even those tend to complement rather than clash with the fabric colors.

My Personal Hanbok Photo Shoot Experience at Gyeongbokgung

Just before my son’s first birthday (*dol*), we rented hanbok and had a photo shoot at Gyeongbokgung.

We dressed our son in a *seja* (crown prince) outfit, and since he was the star, my husband and I chose colors that would complement him without stealing the spotlight—recommended by the shop staff. I don’t usually wear purple and wasn’t sure if it would suit me, but I ended up really liking it. And seeing the photos taken inside Gyeongbokgung made me love it even more.

Since my son’s birthday is in July, we did the shoot in mid-June… and with hanbok fabric being what it is, it was *scorching* hot. Between the blazing sun, holding the baby, and constantly trying to make him smile for about an hour and a half, we were absolutely exhausted. My husband, who really doesn’t handle heat well, had an especially rough time.

By the time the shoot ended, our son had completely passed out. After returning the hanbok, we were walking back when I spotted a place called *Dasaria*—an outdoor skewer bar. We parked the stroller and stopped for a drink. I will *never* forget that ice-cold draft beer. It was pure salvation.

Because this wasn’t just a casual visit—we had scheduled the day specifically for a professional photo shoot—it was more tiring than usual. But now it’s become such a precious memory. The hanbok was beautiful, the photos turned out amazing, and I’m already thinking about doing it again in autumn. The shop where I rented hanbok is called **Geumjundang (금준당)**. Their Instagram account has tons of gorgeous hanbok color combinations, so if you’re planning to rent hanbok or just curious, definitely check it out for inspiration!

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Why Winter Bangeo-Hoe Is So Popular

Peak Fat Content

Yellowtail accumulates fat as water temperatures drop between November and February. This gives winter yellowtail a rich, savory depth that rivals mackerel or tuna.

Different Cuts, Different Experiences

The belly, mid-section, and back each have distinct flavors and textures. The belly of a large winter yellowtail is famous for its melt-in-your-mouth quality.

Dramatic Seasonal Difference

Spring and summer yellowtail tastes mild and unremarkable, but winter yellowtail sees a dramatic upgrade in density and flavor. There’s a saying: “You can’t beat winter bangeo-hoe.”

Bigger Is Better

Yellowtail develops more fat as it grows larger. In winter, fish over 6kg are commonly caught, making the hoe exceptional.

Cultural Event Status

Every winter, social media, and food blogs spotlight “bangeo-hoe season,” creating a natural trend. “Gotta have bangeo-hoe in winter” has become part of Korea’s seasonal food culture.

Versatile Preparation

Beyond hoe, yellowtail shines as sushi, grilled, or in hot pot. Torched yellowtail sushi is a particular winter favorite.

The sweet spot is roughly November through February, but I personally recommend December to January — when it’s cold enough to make you say, “Wow, it’s really freezing out there.”

Where to Eat: Local Hoe Restaurants (횟집)

The most accessible option is your neighborhood hoe restaurant (hoejip). You can find one in almost any area, and if the place does decent business, they’ll likely carry yellowtail in winter. For after-work meetups, convenience matters, so I usually pick a busy spot near the meeting place or my home.

Pro tip: Go where there’s a crowd. Beyond the skill in aging and slicing fish, yellowtail is a large fish that tastes better when it’s big. Busy restaurants go through inventory quickly, meaning fresher, larger fish. Quiet places might serve yellowtail that’s been sitting in the fridge too long.

Recently, I met friends near their place at a restaurant famous for bangeo-hoe. Even on a weekday evening, we had to wait. The place had a 150-minute time limit due to demand — staff would give you a heads-up as time ran out.

We ordered via tablet at our table. Three of us, medium size — easy choice.

Like most hoe restaurants, various side dishes arrived first. This place, Honggildong Hoesusean, was pretty standard. Some places overwhelm you with banchan, but I’ve noticed those sometimes skimp on the actual fish. So I don’t automatically celebrate a mountain of side dishes.

Among the banchan, I spotted beondegi (silkworm pupae) and dasulgi (freshwater snails) for the first time in ages. These were common street snacks when I was a kid — maybe 100 or 200 won for a paper cup. I don’t eat them anymore, not because of taste but… let’s just say once you know what they are, the visual is harder to ignore. Many Koreans can’t eat beondegi either. One friend at our table, though, got nostalgic and happily finished the entire portion alone.

Then came corn cheese — that reliable banchan that never disappoints. Canned corn with mayo and a bit of cheese, baked until bubbly. Simple, impossible to dislike, and my childhood favorite at hoe restaurants.

After some chatting, the bangeo-hoe arrived. Medium size for three people, 75,000 won. The presentation was stunning. Large yellowtail means you get a variety of cuts, and this platter delivered — you could see how richly marbled the fish was just by looking.

There’s no single “correct” way to eat bangeo-hoe. Some wrap it in seaweed like tuna, and dipping sauces range from wasabi-soy to ssamjang (fermented bean paste) to chogochujang (sweet-spicy vinegar sauce). I personally love wrapping it in perilla leaves with ssamjang. Perilla has a strong, distinctive aroma that some people find off-putting, but it pairs beautifully with fatty fish. One piece of fresh yellowtail on a perilla leaf, a dab of ssamjang, a slice of raw garlic, a bit of rinsed kimchi — pure happiness. Add a shot of soju to cut through the richness, and you’ve got the perfect bite.

As we kept eating, sweet potato tempura and grilled fish arrived. The sweet potato was delightful, and we lucked out — instead of the usual grilled herring, we got yellowtail head. Tender, flavorful, excellent.

After a bottle or two of soju and plenty of life updates, we ordered maeuntang (spicy fish stew) to finish. Usually around 5,000 won at hoe restaurants, it’s made from the fish bones, radish, crown daisy, and spicy seasoning. The kick is perfect after all that rich hoe. Adding ramyeon noodles is also highly recommended.

Two and a half hours flew by. With people still waiting, our time was up, so we settled the bill and left.

If someone asked me what to eat in Korea, I’d enthusiastically recommend a hoe restaurant — especially bangeo-hoe in winter. But first, I’d ask: “Do you actually eat raw fish?”

If you’ve never had hoe, or if you’re not comfortable with that springy-chewy-soft texture, I’d hesitate to recommend it. Hoe restaurants are essentially all-fish establishments, so there’s not much else to fall back on if it’s not your thing.

Yellowtail Hoe Restaurant List

• Honggildong Hoesusean (Jungnang-gu)
• Namhae Bada Macha (Seongbuk-gu )
• Uri Bada Susan (Mapo-gu)
• Daechan Hoetjip (Jongno-gu)
• Daegwangeo Hoejip (Gangbuk-gu)
• Uri Hoe Pocha (Dongjak-gu)
• Baegildo (Gwangjin-gu)
• Jamae Susan (Gangnam-gu)

Where to Eat: Noryangjin Fish Market / Garak Market

For the biggest seafood markets in Seoul, there’s Noryangjin and Garak. Both are massive, offering an incredible variety of seafood. If it swims, they probably have it — fresh and alive. Koreans love visiting these places too.

Things have improved over the years, but being traditional markets, some light soliciting still exists. There’s also lingering skepticism about price manipulation — stories of vendors weighing fish with water in the bag or pressing on the scale. Because of this, I personally prefer places with fixed prices.

Currently, the most famous vendor at Noryangjin is Hyungje Sanghoe, but I usually go to Dokdo Susan (stalls 002-004). You can order online for pickup with no waiting, or use the kiosk on-site with staff assistance.

On my recent visit to pick up yellowtail, I noticed Dokdo Chobap next door selling pre-made sushi lunch boxes — 12 assorted pieces for around 22,000 won. Seemed like solid value, though I didn’t try it since I had other plans. Even just looking at it, the quality appeared quite good.

The market’s real advantage is variety. Just wandering around is entertaining — so many fascinating things to see. Beyond hoe, you can pick up shrimp, crab, clams, live octopus, raw oysters, whatever catches your eye. Just know that fish market prices aren’t necessarily cheap, so do your research beforehand.

Once you’ve bought your fish, where do you eat it? I always take mine home, but if that’s not an option, head upstairs where restaurants will prepare your purchase. Tell the vendor you’re eating there, and they’ll direct you to a partner restaurant. Or pick one yourself. Hand over your bag of fish, and they’ll slice, cook, or prepare it however you want — hoe, grilled, steamed, stir-fried, soup — for a seating and preparation fee. Think ahead about how you want to enjoy your seafood.

If someone in your group doesn’t eat seafood, Garak Market might be better than Noryangjin. Garak handles both seafood and meat, so restaurants there can accommodate mixed preferences.

I bought a mini portion of yellowtail hoe (about 1.5 servings, 53,000 won) from Dokdo Susean plus some tuna belly from a second-floor vendor. The mini size meant fewer cuts, but the taste was excellent. Unlike popular restaurants with mandatory waits, the market has no lines, endless options, and plenty to explore — a worthwhile experience for tourists too.

Noryangjin Fish Market List

• Dokdo Susan (stalls 002-004)
• Son Seonjang (stalls 017-019)
• Jeonla Sanghoe (stalls 159-161)
• Hyeongje Sanghoe (stalls 168-172)
• Ilseong Susan (stalls 007-009)

Where to Eat: Korean-style-pubs Serving Seafood

If committing to a full hoe restaurant feels risky — maybe you’re not sure about raw fish, or someone in your group can’t eat seafood — consider a Korean pub or Japanese-style izakaya that serves a variety of dishes.

Being a full-service restaurant, there are fallback options if hoe isn’t working out. The atmosphere is usually nice for lingering, but expect higher prices for smaller portions, and alcohol orders are typically required. Reservations might be necessary given the limited seating.

Recently, searching for a bangeo-hoe spot near a friend’s office, I found Sujokgwan — a Korean-style pub. Despite the name meaning “aquarium,” they have more than seafood: flatfish and tuna hoe, abalone, sea squirt, live octopus, triploid oysters, steamed clams, and octopus, alongside Korean meat dishes like bossam (pork wraps) and LA galbi (short ribs). The bangeo-hoe(58,000 won) was excellent and my first of the season. For a foreign friend’s first Korea visit, somewhere like this might be the safer introduction.

Seafood Restaurant List

• Soo jok gwan (Gangnam-gu)
• Baboseom (Yongsan-gu)
• Badadang (Seocho-gu)

Ready to Try Winter Bangeo-Hoe in Korea?

Somehow, bangeo-hoe became my most-eaten dining-out dish this winter. I know that sushi and sashimi abroad often differs from what you get in Japan or Korea, so I can’t push this as a must-try for everyone. But if you’re comfortable with raw fish — that soft, bouncy, chewy texture — then Korea’s winter delicacy, winter yellowtail, deserves a spot on your list.

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