In 2005, Kate Bratskeir, a New York-based food and health columnist, contacted Cecilia Hae-Jin Lee, author of Eating Korean, to inquire about the proper way to eat Korean food. Cecilia’s response was simple yet profound: “All banchan is communal.” Perplexed, Kate sought clarification. Cecilia explained that in a traditional Korean meal, only the rice and soup are served in individual portions; all other dishes, including banchan (side dishes) are meant to be shared among those seated at the table.

For most Koreans, the true essence of hansik (Korean cuisine) lies in savoring each bite — a harmonious blend of rice, soup and banchan all intermingling in the mouth. But how did this unique dining custom come to be? The cornerstone of the Korean diet is rice or bap, a grain prepared without the addition of salt, fruits or other ingredients. While it could serve as sustenance after meticulous chewing, it would hardly be considered a delicious experience. American linguist Dan Jurafsky suggests that cultures where cooked grains are a dietary staple tend to mix “starch foods” and “non-starch foods” together in their mouths. However, Koreans take this a step further, incorporating soup or guk into this harmonious blend, creating the ideal combination of rice, soup and side dishes. The prevalence of soup in the Korean diet can be traced back to the not-so-distant past when, less than a century ago, people primarily consumed rice mixed with barley or other grains instead of pure white rice. Even steamed non-glutinous rice was made with brown rice, with less of the husk removed than in modern times. This less refined rice, similar to other mixed-grain rice, required thorough chewing for proper digestion.

The practice of combining soup and banchan with each spoonful of rice emerged as an effective way to consume these less refined grains. Koreans find this combination not only palatable but truly delicious. As rice, a complex carbohydrate, is chewed, salivary amylase, an enzyme in saliva, is activated. Specifically, this enzyme in saliva breaks down the starch in the rice, converting it into sugars, hence the subtle sweetness you can taste when chewing rice. The addition of soup and banchan further enhances the experience, creating a symphony of savory flavors derived from amino acids. This unique blend of tastes defines what Koreans cherish as the authentic “flavor of Korea.”

There are Korean flavors that even non-Koreans love. In 2013, Jonathan Gold (1960-2018), the Pulitzer Prize-winning American food critic, tweeted on October 10 that a Korean dish was “…kind of mind-bending in its simplicity. And so good.” His followers chimed in with comments like, “My second favorite Korean dish” and “The bowl is so hot it seems to have been brought from a fusion reactor.” The dish that sparked this online conversation was none other than bibimbap. The secret to achieving the perfect harmony of flavors in bibimbap is gochujang, or red chili paste. When time is short, or when appetites are lacking, Koreans often turn to bibimbap, a simple yet satisfying combination of rice and banchan. Bibimbap is also often enjoyed with kongnamulguk (bean sprout soup) or seonjiguk (ox blood soup), essential accompaniments that elevate the bibimbap experience to another level.

The experience of having gukbap (soup with rice) offers a unique harmony as the rice and soup are served together in one bowl. This allows them to savor the amino acids in both the rice and the soup, enhancing the experience. However, they are also sure to enjoy kimchi or other banchan as they are eating it. That is how one gets the perfect balance of flavors through rice, soup and banchan, infusing the meal with genuine Korean flavor.

Koreans often extend the invitation, “Let’s grab a meal sometime,” after meeting someone new. This reflects a deep-seated belief that sharing a meal fosters closer connections. In the Korean language, there’s a specific word for a group of people who dine together: sikgu. The term traditionally refers to people who live under the same roof and share meals together. However, it can encompass individuals who work together as part of a larger community, implying a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

Koreans firmly believe that sharing a meal creates a sense of community, even among strangers. This is why at a shared table, only the rice and soup are served individually, while all the banchan are communal. While the COVID-19 pandemic has accelerated a shift towards solo dining, the underlying concept of sikgu remains deeply ingrained in Korean culture. The hope is that you too can enjoy -eoullim by sitting down for a meal filled with a sense of togetherness.

• Written by Joo Youngha
• Joo Youngha is one of Korea’s leading food anthropologists. He is a professor at the Graduate School of Korean Studies at the Academy of Korean Studies.

From the song APT., by BLACKPINK member Rosé and Bruno Mars featuring a traditional Korean drinking game, to the captivating games of gonggi (Korean jacks) and jegichagi (hacky sack) showcased in the Netflix series Squid Game 2, K-content continues to captivate global audiences, and interest in Korean recreation culture is also on the rise. We explore what makes “K-recreation culture” so appealing.

“Chaeyoung’s [Rosé’s Korean name] favorite random game…” These are the opening words to APT., the song by BLACKPINK member Rosé and pop star Bruno Mars that swept across the globe. This infectious tune, with its relentlessly catchy chorus of “Apateu, apateu” draws inspiration from a popular Korean drinking game. The game involves participants stacking their hands like the floors of a building and calling out a random floor number. As the players take turns moving their hand from the bottom of the stack to the top and count the floors, whoever’s hand falls on the designated floor has to drink. To showcase the origins of the song, the music video shows Bruno Mars and Rosé playing the hand-stacking game while seated in a studio. While the song’s inherent catchiness is undeniable, the incorporation of Korean game culture added another layer of appeal, contributing to its viral success, with countless videos of people worldwide playing it flooding YouTube.

This isn’t the first time Korean games have captured the world’s attention. The global phenomenon of the Netflix show, Squid Game, introduced a wide audience to traditional Korean games like red light, green light and the dalgona carving game, creating a global craze. Recently, Squid Game 2 has brought attention to games like gonggi (Korean jacks), jegichagi (hacky sack), and the number matching game round and round. What is the secret behind the widespread appeal of these unfamiliar Korean games? These games are incredibly easy to learn and play, yet they possess a captivating addictiveness that draws players in.

This inherent simplicity is a hallmark of Korean game culture. For instance, gonggi, featured in Squid Game 2, involves tossing and catching five small objects — pebbles, dice or even chocolate snacks — in a series of increasingly complex maneuvers. Games like red light, green light and round and round require no equipment at all; just gather a group of people and you’re ready to play. The rules are so simple that anyone can grasp them instantly. However, there’s one essential element that underpins these games: the spirit of togetherness or eoullim. Many traditional Korean games are inherently social, designed to be enjoyed collectively. Yutnori, a board game traditionally played during holidays, brings families, neighbors and friends together, strengthening bonds and fostering a sense of community. Ganggangsullae, a traditional circle dance performed by a group holding hands and moving in a circular pattern, embodies the interconnectedness of individuals. Neolttwigi, a seesaw game where two people alternate jumping on a long plank, requires cooperation and balance.