Korean soups: guk, tang and jjigae explained
A field guide to the soups of the Korean table, from birthday seaweed soup and milky ox-bone broth to stews that arrive still boiling.
A Korean meal is built around two bowls: one of rice, and one of something hot and liquid beside it. The side dishes may change, the main course may come and go, but that pairing of rice and soup is the foundation the whole table rests on.
Korean has several words for what English simply calls soup, and learning them is the easiest way into the menu. Once you know your guk from your jjigae, you'll know roughly what will arrive, how thick it will be, and whether it is still going to be boiling when it lands.
Three words for soup
Guk are the lighter soups: more broth than solids, gently seasoned, and meant to be eaten alongside rice at an ordinary meal. They play a role not unlike miso soup in Japan, the quiet companion rather than the star.
Tang comes from the same character, 湯, that Japanese uses for hot water. It tends to mark heartier soups, often simmered for a long time from bones or meat. The line between guk and tang is blurry, though, and some dishes answer to either name.
Jjigae are the stews: thicker, saltier and more crowded with ingredients, with less liquid. A jjigae is usually cooked and served in the same small pot, often a heavy earthenware one, and it reaches the table still bubbling. Traditionally it is shared. Japanese diners already know this word as チゲ, as in キムチチゲ, and Japan also borrowed クッパ from gukbap, the Korean habit of serving rice in soup.
Guk and tang worth knowing
- Miyeok-guk is seaweed soup, made with miyeok (the same seaweed Japanese call wakame), sesame oil and soy sauce, usually with beef or seafood. It is the soup traditionally given to new mothers after childbirth, and because of that it is also eaten on birthdays, a small bowl of thanks to the person who brought you into the world. There is even a folk belief that you shouldn't eat it before an exam, in case the slippery seaweed makes you slip.
- Seolleongtang is ox-bone soup, simmered for many hours until the broth turns milky white. It arrives almost unseasoned, with salt, black pepper and chopped scallions for you to add yourself, and thin wheat noodles often hiding at the bottom of the bowl. The classic partner is kkakdugi, cubed radish kimchi. The name is often linked to an altar where Joseon kings made offerings for the harvest, though that story is more lore than record.
- Galbitang is a clear, savoury soup of beef short ribs, usually with radish and scallions and often glass noodles. It is gentle and meaty, a good first step into Korean soups.
- Haejang-guk means, roughly, "soup to chase away a hangover", and it is less one dish than a whole family. Versions might feature dried cabbage leaves, bean sprouts, dried pollack or congealed ox blood, all built to revive. Mexico's menudo does a similar job on the other side of the Pacific.
The jjigae family
Kimchi jjigae is the stew most Korean households seem able to make in their sleep. Well-fermented, properly sour kimchi is simmered with pork (or sometimes canned tuna), tofu, onion and chilli flakes. The older the kimchi, the deeper the stew, which is why this dish is often where tired kimchi ends up.
Doenjang jjigae is built on doenjang, a fermented soybean paste that is chunkier and funkier than most Japanese miso. It usually holds tofu, courgette, onion and potato, simmered in a light anchovy broth or with clams. If you know miso soup, this will feel like its louder, earthier cousin; our guide to miso types explains the Japanese side of that family.
Sundubu jjigae is soft tofu stew. Extra-soft, unpressed tofu, almost custard-like, goes into a spicy red broth with seafood or pork, and often an egg is cracked into the pot at the last moment so it poaches in the bubbling stew. The contrast between fiery broth and trembling tofu is the whole point.
How to eat at a Korean table
A few habits will make you feel at home.
- Rice is the anchor. In Korea rice and soup are usually eaten with a spoon, with chopsticks for the side dishes. Unlike in Japan, bowls generally stay on the table rather than being lifted to your mouth.
- Expect banchan. Small side dishes, from kimchi to seasoned vegetables, come with the meal, and in many restaurants they are refilled if you ask.
- Season it yourself. Soups like seolleongtang arrive plain on purpose. Add salt a pinch at a time, plus scallions and pepper.
- Try a spoonful of rice in the soup. Dropping rice into the broth is perfectly normal, and for some dishes it is the intended way to eat them.
- Respect the pot. A jjigae can stay ferociously hot for a long time. Ladle some into your bowl and give it a moment.
For another Korean classic, the ginseng-stuffed chicken soup samgyetang, see our piece on chicken soup around the world.
What I find lovely about Korean soups is how precisely they are named. There is a word for the everyday bowl, a word for the long-simmered one, a word for the stew you share, and dishes for birthdays, for new mothers and for the morning after. A cuisine that needs that many words for soup is one that takes soup seriously, and I think we could all learn from it.