Korean food and I didn’t exactly hit it off straight away. When I first moved to South Korea to teach English, I was living in a small coastal town where my culinary comfort zone was getting tested daily. (And not for the better.)
Seoul changed everything.
A few weeks into my contract, I escaped to the city for the weekend and stumbled into Namdaemun Market and Gwangjang Market, not really knowing what I was doing. What followed was a crash course in Korean food that I’m still thinking about years later. Turns out I didn’t actually hate Korean food; I just needed to gobble down the right dishes.
Here are a few of the delicious Seoul dishes that turned me into a lifetime Korean food lover, and where first-time visitors can find ’em…
Korean BBQ (gogigui)
Korean BBQ is the one dish every first-time visitor should put on their Seoul foodie bucket list. And it’s an idea I can totally get behind.
This was one of the first Korean meals I actually enjoyed after arriving in the country. Living on the eastern coast in the small city of Donghae, where some of the more unfamiliar flavors were still giving my taste buds a hard time, Korean BBQ felt like familiar ground.
(I mean, it’s meat on a grill; it’s a concept many of us can get behind pretty quickly.)
Eating Korean BBQ in Seoul, though, hits different. There’s something about sitting elbow-to-elbow with locals in a smoke-filled room, cooking your own dinner on a grill, that makes every other version feel a tad weaker.
The setup is half the experience. A grill goes in the center of the table, a parade of banchan (side dishes) fills every spare inch around it, and then you become your own grill master.
The most popular order (and one of my surprising favorites) is samgyeopsal (pork belly), which is usually marinated in soy sauce, sesame oil, and garlic. Wrap a grilled piece in a lettuce leaf with a dab of ssamjang (spicy Korean dipping sauce), and you’ll understand pretty quickly why Koreans treat this as a national pastime.
For a reliable Korean BBQ experience in Seoul, Yukjeon Sikdang (map) in Dongdaemun is one of the hotspots I see most often recommended in the city. The thick-cut samgyeopsal here has a well-earned reputation among locals.
You should expect a bit of a wait here, but it moves quickly.
Dakgalbi
I arrived in South Korea in November, and dakgalbi quickly became one of my go-to comfort foods after a cool morning hike. I always felt there was something special about coming in from the cold and sitting down to warm up with a sizzling plate of spicy chicken.
The dish itself is deceptively simple. Dakgalbi consists of chunks of marinated chicken, cabbage, sweet potato, and rice cakes all cooked together on a hot plate at your table. The gochujang, Korea’s famous fermented hot pepper sauce, starts to caramelize into everything, and it becomes something far greater than the sum of its parts.
Many restaurants offer a cheese version, too, where a mound of cheese gets melted on top towards the end. (If it sounds excessive, it’s only because it kinda is.)
Outside of the obvious recommendation to eat dakgalbi in one of Seoul’s cool night markets, Ogeunnae Dakgalbi (map) in Yongsan comes on top thanks to a nod from the Michelin Guide. The restaurant has a reputation for using only chicken thighs for extra juiciness and flavor, and a homemade sauce that’s better balanced than most.
Korean fried chicken
I didn’t know it at the time, but these days, I can’t visit a Korean market without beelining for the closest Korean fried chicken stall. If you haven’t tried it, let me just say: You’re missing out on one of the world’s most delicious street foods.
Korean fried chicken might not sound that exciting on paper, but hear me out. Unlike many Korean dishes that can be an acquired taste for Western palates (I know this all too well), Korean fried chicken hits familiar notes while still remaining its own (freakin’ amazingly delicious) thing.
The secret is double-frying, which gives the chicken a crispiness that holds up long after it leaves the oil. The yangnyeom version, tossed in a gochujang-based sauce, adds a sweet, spicy, tangy coating that’s hard to stop eating.
(Gochujang is everywhere in Western supermarkets now, even in my small Northern Ontario hometown. The source material in Seoul, though, is on a whole other level.)
The classic way to eat it is chimaek, a portmanteau to describe Korean fried chicken served with an ice-cold beer. It’s less an established meal than a local favorite activity among drinking buddies.
Kyochon Chicken has branches all over the city and is a reliable starting point. (The soy garlic variety is the one most locals seem to reach for first, but I’m still gonna go for the gochujang-soaked one all day long.)
Tteokbokki
No matter where I went in South Korea, I saw these little silky rice cakes on the menu. Tteokbokki is everywhere, from street stalls to markets to hole-in-the-wall restaurants.
And for good reason. It’s one of those Korean snacks that’s hard to ignore once the smell hits you.
The texture is the first thing that surprises most first-time eaters. It’s dense and chewy in a way that I’d describe as closest to gnocchi, though that comparison only goes so far.
The rice cakes are cooked in a gochujang-based sauce (there it is again!) that’s simultaneously spicy, sweet, and a little tangy. The balance between those three flavors varies wildly depending on where you get it.
(From my experience eating these across the country, no two stalls make it quite the same way.)
I personally prefer my tteokbokki with a bit more spice than sweetness, but I’d recommend trying a few different versions before deciding where you land. It’s genuinely a love-it-or-leave-it dish for some people, though in my experience, most visitors end up in the love-it camp once they find a stall that jibes with their taste buds.
Gwangjang Market is one of the best places I’ve found around Seoul to try tteokbokki, with multiple vendors offering their own take on the sauce.
Kimbap
When you first see kimbap in a Korean market, you’ll probably think it looks like a sushi roll. But don’t let its similar look fool you: It’s a completely different dish.
The ingredients in kimbap are fully cooked, the rice is seasoned differently, and the whole thing leans savory rather than fresh. (Think of the sushi comparison as a useful shorthand, and little more.)
I’ll be honest: Kimbap was not an instant hit for me. When I first arrived in South Korea, I wasn’t even a sushi fan, so anything wrapped in seaweed was a tough sell.
But kimbap was my gateway to a more rounded palate.
Getting comfortable with kimbap in South Korea led me to give sushi a proper chance, and it eventually became one of my favorite foods.
(For what it’s worth, I still think Japanese sushi edges out kimbap. But kimbap got me there, so I’m forever grateful.)
Kimbap isn’t just a favorite around Seoul; it’s one of Korea’s great everyday foods. It’s cheap, filling, portable, and available everywhere, from dedicated kimbap restaurants to convenience stores on every corner.
(Once I got the taste for it, I ate more convenience store kimbap while living in South Korea than I’d care to admit, and it’s good even at that level.)
For a proper sit-down version, Kimbap Cheonguk, the chain with the orange sign you’ll spot all over Seoul, is where I’d start. The restaurant’s name translates to “Kimbap Heaven.” It’s a bold claim, but the tuna kimbap here makes it hard to argue with. Order it with a bowl of miso soup, and you’ll have snagged yourself one of the tastiest cheap lunches in the city.
Mandu
I’ve already mentioned (probably too many times) that a lot of Korean dishes took time to win me over. Mandu was not one of those dishes.
These Korean dumplings were an instant favorite from the moment I tried them at Namdaemun Market, and they’ve stayed near the top of my list ever since.
I’d go so far as to say mandu are one of my favorite street snacks on the planet, not just in South Korea.
They’re similar in concept to Chinese xiaolongbao (which I become hopelessly addicted to when I’m visiting Shanghai or Taipei), with a silky smooth wrapper and a filling of meat, vegetables, or kimchi. You can get them steamed, boiled, or fried. Each version has its own thing going for it.
(The fried ones in particular have this crispy-bottomed, soft-topped thing happening that I find almost impossible to resist.)
The kimchi version is worth seeking out specifically on your first day in Seoul.
I wasn’t a kimchi fan when I first arrived in Korea. (Actually, that’s a major understatement.)
The kimchi mandu at Gamekol Son Wangmandu near Gate 5 at Namdaemun Market was the first time I started to actually appreciate its sour, spicy flavor combo.
(Looking back, this was probably the beginning of the end of my kimchi resistance.)
For the finest mandu experience in Seoul, Gwangjang Market is another excellent hunting ground, with vendors rolling and steaming them fresh in front of you.
Bibimbap
Bibimbap is one of those dishes I’d recommend trying on your first trip to Seoul, even though it took me a while to come around to it myself. It didn’t really “fully” click for me while I was living in South Korea. (I came to appreciate it more as I got more Asian travel experience under my belt.)
That said, bibimbap is absolutely worth seeking out on your first visit to Seoul. I’ve seen plenty of travelers love it immediately, so don’t let my experience (and my then-immature taste buds) put you off.
The dish itself is simple in concept: a bowl of warm white rice topped with an assortment of sautéed and seasoned vegetables, usually with a fried egg and sometimes a slice of meat on top.
The key to enjoying bibimbap (and where I went wrong at first) is mixing everything together properly before you eat it—especially that gochujang sauce!—so the rice gets evenly coated.
Bibimbap is available at virtually every restaurant in Seoul, so you’ll have no shortage of opportunities to try it. For a more memorable version, look for dolsot bibimbap. It’s served in a sizzling stone bowl that keeps cooking the rice at the bottom until it’s crispy.
Hotteok
If there’s one Seoul street food I’d tell every first-time visitor to track down right away, it’d be hotteok. I stumbled across it on my first trip to Seoul at a stall near Gate 2 at Namdaemun Market. This one stopped me in my tracks.
Hotteok are like Korean street pancakes. They’re typically stuffed with sweet fillings like brown sugar, cinnamon, and nuts.
But there’s also a savory version of hotteok, filled with japchae (glass noodles seasoned with sesame oil and soy sauce) and vegetables. This is the one worth hunting for. (And the one I became immediately obsessed with.)
The closest comparison I can make is okonomiyaki, Japan’s famous savory pancake. (And another big Asian street food favorite of mine.)
But hotteok has its own thing going on. They’re pan-fried until the outside is golden and slightly crispy, with a soft, chewy interior that’s admittedly addictive.
In my opinion, hotteok is also one of the most accessible Korean street foods for first-timers. There are no weird, unfamiliar flavor profiles to navigate here, so there’s a very good chance you’ll like it straight outta the box. (Or grill, I guess?)
The cart near Gate 2 at Namdaemun Market is where I’d send any first-time visitor to Seoul looking for the savory version. Get there before the lunchtime crowds swoop in.
Kalguksu
Of all the dishes that surprised me during my time in South Korea, kalguksu might take the top spot.
This Korean noodle soup is based on a hearty broth, usually seafood or chicken, and topped with hand-cut wheat noodles.
On paper, kalguksu sounds simple. In practice, it’s full of complex flavors and was one of the most satisfying things I ate during my entire time in the country.
I tried it for the first time at Kalguksu Alley inside Namdaemun Market, just inside Gate 5, where an entire street is dedicated to the stuff. My trick in situations where I have no idea what I’m doing (which in Korea was more often than I’d like to admit) is to follow the crowds. They did not lead me astray here.
The noodles are the star of this famous Seoul street food. Hand-cut and slightly uneven, they have a chewiness that machine-made noodles just don’t replicate. The broth is clean but deeply savory.
(Much like the first time I tried pho and tonkostu ramen, kalguksu made me wonder how I’d eaten such boring soups my whole life.)
For a legendary version in Seoul, the Netflix-famous Gohyang Kalguksu stall at Gwangjang Market is worth the queue. The owner, Cho Yon-soon, has been hand-cutting noodles there for decades and still runs the stall herself.
Kimchi jjigae
If Korean BBQ is Seoul’s social food, kimchi jjigae is its comfort food. This dish is what Koreans eat at home when they want something warm, familiar, and deeply satisfying.
Although I didn’t eat any kimchi jjiage in Seoul, I had a homemade version of it while hiking with one of the parents from the school where I was teaching. Sipping the stew from a thermos by a river on a cool autumn day, I could see exactly why this was a cold-weather favorite in South Korea.
(This was also one of the first times I actually enjoyed the flavor of kimchi.)
The stew is fermented kimchi, pork, tofu, and vegetables simmered together in a spicy, tangy broth. The longer the kimchi has been fermented, the deeper and more sour the flavor gets. A well-made version has a richness that’s unlike anything else on this list.
Almost every Korean has a strong opinion on whose kimchi jjigae is best. (And it’s usually their own mother’s homemade recipe.) Any restaurant brave enough to specialize in it is worth paying attention to.
Gwanghwamun House (map) in Jongno is one of the most respected dedicated spots in the city and a solid starting point for first-timers.
Grilled lobster cheese
I’m sure you’re already scratching your head thinking about this one. One of the must-try street foods in Seoul is (wait for it) grilled lobster cheese.
And, yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like.
If you find yourself wandering around Myeongdong (and you should on any first visit to Seoul), you’ll eventually spot a crowd gathered around a hot plate piled with bright red lobster tails.
The vendor grills the lobster tails to order, stuffs them with melted cheese, and hands them to you on a stick.
As Asian street food goes, it doesn’t get much posher than this.
The lobster is fresh and sweet, the cheese is rich and gooey, and together they work in a way that’s hard to explain until you’ve tried it.
At ₩15,000 to ₩18,000, grilled lobster cheese is on the pricier end for Myeongdong street food, but you’re getting a whole lobster tail. It’s not a bad deal by any stretch.
Look for the bright red shells and the perpetual crowd on Myeongdong Shopping Street near the Myeongdong Theater. It’s impossible to miss it!
