By Raza Syed (Paris,France)
The Montmartre Harvest Festival, Paris. The air is filled with the scent of wine, autumn leaves, and roasting chestnuts. At the Republic of Korea pavilion, Ms. Kim Doeun presides over a tasting of Andong Hanwoo bulgogi, her demeanor a calm counterpoint to the festive energy.
London Post: Ms. Kim, thank you for making time. You’re here representing both Korea and your hometown, Andong. What is the core message you’ve brought to Paris this year?
Ms. Kim Doeun: The message is one of refinement and dignity. Abroad, Korean food is often seen as quick, bold street food—which is wonderful in its own right—but that’s only one part of the story. In Andong, we are the guardians of the yangban nobility cuisine, traditions preserved in written records like the Suwun Japbang. This isn’t just food; it’s a pillar of our national identity, and it deserves to be shared with the depth it embodies.
LP: You mention Suwun Japbang. For our readers who may not know, what is this text, and what is your personal connection to it?
Ms. Kim: (Her eyes light up) Suwun Japbang is a family treasure, a household compendium from the mid-15th century that has been passed down through my family for generations. It’s more than a cookbook. It contains preservation techniques, seasonal wisdom, rituals, and etiquette. There’s even a family legend that it was once buried in the earth during turbulent times to protect it. That speaks to the profound commitment to heritage it represents.
As a daughter-in-law in the jongga [hereditary family] system, I have inherited the responsibility for this text. One day, my own daughter-in-law will do the same. It’s a matrilineal chain of custody, not unlike the artisan guild traditions here in Europe, where knowledge is passed from master to apprentice, generation to generation.
LP: And how does that living tradition translate to the tasting counter here? I can smell the wonderful aroma of the bulgogi.
Ms. Kim: Exactly. This is Andong Hanwoo bulgogi. In Suwun Japbang, we find recipes for braised beef that honor the ingredient’s inherent quality. So today, we use soy sauce and sesame oil not to overwhelm, but to amplify the beef’s natural essence. I think this challenges a common preconception.
LP: Which is?
Ms. Kim: That Korean food is only about intense spice. While that is one beloved aspect, Korea shares with Europe a deep reverence for the ingredient itself. We value unexaggerated authenticity. This marbled Hanwoo beef, with its tender richness, doesn’t need to hide behind heat. It invites thoughtful pairings, much like a fine cut of meat here in France would.
LP: You’ve been coming to this festival for three years now. How has the conversation evolved?
Ms. Kim: Profoundly. In year one, it was about simple visibility—”Here is Korean food.” Now, it’s about understanding. We’ve moved from just tasting to conversing through flavors. I’ve learned which corners of Montmartre have the perfect Burgundy red or Loire white to complement our dishes. The festival is a celebration of pairing, and Suwun Japbang is, at its heart, a guide for such unions. There’s a beautiful synergy when a restrained soy-based dish meets a high-acid wine; it creates an elegant dialogue.
LP: So what are the visible outcomes of this deeper engagement?
Ms. Kim: We see it in the media narratives shifting from calling our food “exotic” to exploring its heritage and philosophy. We’re building networks with European cookery schools and wine academies. There’s interest in tourism ties—linking a visit to Andong with household immersions, stories from the Suwun Japbang, and wine classes. It’s becoming a true cultural exchange.
LP: For a European, how would you frame the essence of Andong’s cuisine to make it relatable?
Ms. Kim: I would frame it as terroir—a philosophy of place, time, and community. Suwun Japbang embodies ethics of fermentation, moderation, and balance. Andong’s unique waters, grains, and climate craft the taste. Five centuries of written records layer the culinary depth. And the daughter-in-law lineage provides the communal warmth. Through this lens, Korea’s noble table is not so distant from France’s own vineyard traditions.
LP: Looking to the future, what bridges do you hope to build next?
Ms. Kim: The ideas are flowing! We envision “Suwun Japbang × Wine” tasting events, pairing low-salt soy menus with tannic wines, with the pairings annotated by excerpts from the text. We’d love residencies and study tours, exchanging French sommeliers and Korean chefs. Perhaps exhibitions showcasing the “buried book” story, or scholarly projects like bilingual editions. For tourists, we dream of modules like “An Andong Table Experience”—Confucian homestays, curated dinners, and ritual music.
LP: As we conclude, amidst all this vibrant energy, what is the final thought you hope visitors take from your pavilion?
Ms. Kim: (Smiling softly) That Korean and European foods, while different, are not as distant as one might think. We are whispering here, not shouting, prioritizing texture and depth over spectacle. Here, Suwun Japbang transcends its pages to become a shared table. As Montmartre’s wines age gracefully, so, I hope, will Andong’s legacy deepen in European hearts—fostered at a patient, harmonious tempo.
