Simply K Wellness

In Korea, Lunar New Year, known as Seollal, is a special time for families to gather, share traditional foods, and welcome a new year together. One of the most familiar dishes served on this occasion is tteokguk, a Korean soup made with thinly sliced rice cakes. At first glance, tteokguk may look like a simple bowl of soup. Yet its white rice cakes, traditional preparation, and place at the New Year's table reflect wishes for a fresh beginning, a long life, prosperity, and family togetherness. For many Koreans, eating tteokguk on Seollal is also associated with becoming one year older. For me, tteokguk brings back memories of my mother preparing rice cakes before the holiday and our family gathering around the table on New Year's morning. Looking back, I realize that this familiar food was part of a much larger tradition connecting food, family, and the hopes people carried into a new year. Preparing Rice Cakes Before Lunar New Year When I was growing up in Korea, Lunar New Yea...

In North America, many sweet potatoes sold in supermarkets have orange flesh and become soft and moist when cooked. Korean sweet potatoes, known as goguma , can have a different texture and flavor, depending on the variety and how they are prepared. For me, their appeal goes beyond taste. They remind me of childhood meals, my mother's cooking, and the familiar foods that were part of everyday life in Korea. In the past, sweet potatoes were an important source of food in Korea, particularly during periods of food scarcity. As a hardy crop that provided energy, they helped supplement the food available to families. Today, Korean sweet potatoes are enjoyed in many ways, from simple steamed or roasted snacks to traditional side dishes and sweet treats. Their story reflects how an ingredient once valued for its practical role in feeding families can also become a much-loved part of food culture. How Korean Sweet Potatoes Differ from North American Sweet Potatoes and Yams When I first mo...

Why Koreans Eat Hot Ginseng Chicken Soup in Summer Imagine visiting Korea in the middle of summer and seeing people lining up for a bowl of steaming hot soup. While many people might look for a cold drink or a chilled dish on the hottest days, Koreans have traditionally done something quite different: they gather around hot bowls of samgyetang , or Korean ginseng chicken soup. This tradition is closely connected to Sambok , the three peak summer days known as Chobok (the start), Jungbok (the middle), and Malbok (the end of the peak heat). These days traditionally fall during the hottest period of summer and are determined according to the traditional Korean calendar system. Samgyetang became one of the best-known foods associated with these seasonal days. Why eat something so hot when the weather is already hot? One traditional explanation is the Korean idea of iyeol chiyeol , often translated as “fighting heat with heat.” This idea reflects an older food culture in which people believ...

From a Humble Winter Food to a Traditional Korean Ingredient What if the leafy greens and stems of a radish could be dried and saved instead of discarded? This simple practice is part of the story behind siraegi , a traditional Korean ingredient made from dried radish greens. In Korea, radish greens left after the harvest or kimjang season were traditionally dried and stored for later use. Drying made it possible to preserve a seasonal vegetable beyond its fresh season and use it during colder months and other periods when food supplies could be limited. This was not simply a cooking technique. It reflected a practical way of making careful use of available ingredients. Historically, with records dating back to the Joseon Dynasty, siraegi played a crucial role in Korea’s traditional food culture. During Borigogae (the spring hardship period), when stored grains used to run out before the next harvest, siraegi served as a vital food that helped satisfy hunger and sustain precious hum...

What Is Sikhye? Sikhye is a traditional Korean sweet rice drink made with cooked rice, water, and yeotgireum , or barley malt. In some parts of Korea, sikhye has traditionally been called gamju or dansul . In my family, we grew up calling it gamju . What makes sikhye special is the traditional process of saccharification. Enzymes naturally present in barley malt break down the starch in cooked rice into simpler sugars, creating the drink's characteristic sweetness. Traditionally, barley malt was soaked in water, often inside a small bag made from tightly woven cotton cloth. The malt was gently rubbed and squeezed to release its soluble components into the water. This malt water was combined with cooked rice and kept warm for several hours. As the mixture warmed, the rice grains gradually floated to the surface, a traditional visual sign that it was ready for the next step. This simple process reflects a practical kind of food knowledge passed down through Korean households. Long b...

When Mugwort Meant Spring to Me In Korea, the arrival of spring was something I could almost see in the fields. As the weather became warmer, young mugwort began appearing among the fresh green plants. When I spotted those small shoots coming up from the ground, I knew that spring had arrived. My first thought was often, “It’s spring. Let’s go pick mugwort.” As a child, I enjoyed carrying a basket and looking for young mugwort in the countryside. Bringing home a basket filled with young mugwort was a small but satisfying part of spring. Mugwort was also commonly seen at Korean markets during the season, where older women would bring bundles of greens they had gathered or grown and sell them. These scenes were simply part of everyday spring in Korea. My mother would carefully wash the mugwort we brought home and turn it into several different foods. One of the dishes I remember most is ssuk-guk , or Korean mugwort soup. She would make a savory broth with doenjang, add the fresh mugwort,...

What Are Korean Perilla Leaves? For many English-speaking readers, Korean perilla leaves may look like an unfamiliar herb or leafy vegetable. In Korea, however, kkaennip is one of the most familiar greens on the table. It is used at home, in restaurants, and especially alongside grilled meat and other strongly flavored foods. One interesting detail is that kkaennip is not actually a sesame leaf, even though it is sometimes translated that way. It comes from the perilla plant, Perilla frutescens, a member of the mint family. The leaves have a distinctive aroma and a slightly peppery, herbal flavor. So why do Koreans enjoy a leaf with such a distinctive fragrance? One reason is how well its aroma works with other foods. Fresh perilla leaves are commonly served with grilled pork, beef, and fish. Their fragrance can help balance rich flavors and strong food aromas, which is one reason they work so naturally with meat and seafood. At Korean barbecue restaurants, a perilla leaf can be used ...

In Korea, the changing seasons have always been closely connected with meaningful foods and traditions. Among these seasonal dishes, Dongji Patjuk , a traditional Korean red bean porridge enjoyed during the winter solstice, holds a special place in Korean food culture. Dongji is the shortest day of the year, when the long winter nights begin to slowly give way to increasing daylight. For generations, Korean families prepared this warm red bean porridge on Dongji, believing that the bright red color of adzuki beans symbolized protection and represented hopes for good fortune in the new seasonal cycle. Unlike ordinary porridge, Dongji Patjuk carries a story that goes beyond its simple ingredients. Made with carefully cooked red beans and soft glutinous rice balls called saealsim , this winter dish reflects the relationship between nature, tradition, and the values passed down through generations. Today, Dongji Patjuk remains a meaningful symbol of Korean seasonal food culture, preservin...

Many cultures have discovered creative ways to preserve fruit beyond its fresh season. Some transform fruit into jams or desserts, while others dry fruit to enjoy its natural sweetness throughout the year. In Korea, however, there is a special tradition of turning autumn persimmons into gotgam , a traditional Korean dried persimmon enjoyed during the colder months. Made by carefully peeling persimmons and allowing them to slowly dry in the natural air, gotgam is not simply a preserved fruit. It represents a different way of thinking about food — one that values time, patience, and harmony with nature. In today’s world, where convenience and speed often shape the way we eat, gotgam offers a meaningful reminder of a slower approach to food. The process cannot be rushed. The fruit must be given time to change, allowing its texture, flavor, and character to develop naturally. For many Koreans, gotgam carries memories of autumn harvests, family traditions, and special moments shared during ...

Why Barley Tea Became an Everyday Korean Drink In many Korean homes, barley tea was once more than a tea enjoyed occasionally—it was often the drink served in place of plain water. A pot of barley tea could sit in the kitchen or refrigerator, ready for family members to drink throughout the day. For someone unfamiliar with Korean food culture, this may raise an interesting question: Why drink barley tea instead of water? One reason lies in the simple appeal of its flavor. Barley tea, known as boricha in Korean, is made by steeping roasted barley in hot water. Unlike plain water, it has a mild toasted aroma and a slightly nutty, earthy flavor. Because barley itself does not naturally contain caffeine, boricha can be enjoyed as an everyday beverage without the caffeine found in tea made from tea leaves. The flavor of boricha (barley tea) begins with the barley itself. Before brewing, the grains are roasted, and this heating process changes their color, aroma, and taste. As the barley is ...

In many parts of the world, acorns are simply considered food for squirrels, deer, and other wildlife. Few people imagine that these small forest seeds could become a smooth, delicate dish served at the family table. In Korea, however, generations of people discovered how to transform humble acorns into dotori-muk (Korean acorn jelly), a traditional food that reflects patience, resourcefulness, and a deep understanding of nature. Unlike many modern foods that can be prepared quickly, dotori-muk is the result of a careful process that cannot be rushed. Acorns must first be cleaned, their natural bitterness removed, and their starch carefully extracted before they can become the smooth jelly enjoyed today. Although dotori-muk is simple in appearance, it represents centuries of traditional knowledge passed from one generation to the next. It reminds us that understanding nature often begins with careful observation, patience, and respect for the ingredients it provides. In this article, ...

When Gim Was Simply Part of My Everyday Life Gim was one of the most ordinary foods on my childhood table in Korea. I ate it so often that I never thought of it as anything special. One of my favorite memories is placing a sheet of gim on my palm, adding warm rice and a little soy sauce, and folding it together. It was simple, but to me, it was one of the best tastes of childhood. Some of the gim I remember most came from my mother's family home. My mother would sometimes bring back naturally gathered dol-gim , or rock seaweed, from the coastal area. I remember seeing local women collecting seaweed from rocks along the shore and spreading the thin sheets out to dry in the sun. The gim had a stronger sea aroma and a savory flavor that I still remember. At home, my mother would sometimes roast plain gim over a charcoal briquette fire. She would cut each sheet into four pieces and divide them among the family. We ate it with warm rice, and the pieces often disappeared almost as soon a...