Few things are more Korean than “baekban:” a tray of rice and soup, surrounded by assorted “banchan” (side dishes) like kimchi, vegetables, savory pancakes and perhaps braised fish or marinated meat.
There's no menu theatrics and no explanation required. It’s food that assumes familiarity, comfort and trust.
Baekban is how Korea feeds itself — or at least, it was. While Michelin-starred restaurants and European fusion cuisine dominate Korea’s food media and cultural prestige, the traditional eateries which used to be the backbone of everyday Korean dining are being pushed toward extinction.
The food that nourishes everyday life receives little applause, while imported culinary frameworks are celebrated as symbols of sophistication and progress. The irony is striking: As Korean food becomes globally admired, the most Korean form of it is disappearing at home.
Baekban is as simple as a meal can get, focusing on balance over excess, variety over pretense and seasonality over spectacle. It reflects home cooking and democratizes eating out. Office workers sit next to students, taxi drivers and elderly regulars. There’s rarely a fixed menu, except for perhaps one main dish like bulgogi or stir fried spicy pork.
Korean baekban is at a crossroads. It represents Korean culture, just like K-pop or cosmetics. It’s embedded in daily life, yet rarely celebrated. But if lost, it may change the landscape of Korean cuisine forever.
An image of Korean baekban at Yangpyeong restaurant in this file photo shows the rice, soup and side dishes that form the backbone of Korean cuisine. Baekban restaurants are getting harder to find, due to the high price of labor and ingredients. Courtesy of Hankook Ilbo
Traditional baekban eateries, many run by aging owners who have cooked the same food for decades, are closing their doors. Rising rents, surging ingredient prices, labor shortages and shrinking margins have turned what was once a sustainable livelihood into an economic gamble. For many of these owners, retirement or closure feels inevitable.
Adding to the pressure is a deep-seated expectation that baekban should remain cheap and abundant, a perpetual form of generosity. When some restaurants began charging for banchan refills, public reaction was swift and unforgiving. According to a survey by the market research firm Embrain, 64.8 percent of customers said they would not pay for additional banchan in restaurants. Many argue that free refills are part of what makes Korean banchan special, and most restaurant owners understand the cultural and sentimental significance. Charging more may help in the short run, but may lose customers in the long run.
Once unthinkable, paying for side dishes has now become an option for survival. But instead of empathy, these changes are often met with disappointment and sometimes even moral judgement. However, generosity cannot exist without sustainability.
Source: Korea Times News
