From soju rituals to hangover soups: What I found out about South Korea's complicated drinking culture

CNA

07-06-2025

I gestured to the server some distance away, holding up my index finger before pointing to the empty green bottle on my table.
I could have practised what little Korean I knew, just sufficient to string together my request, 'Jeogiyo, soju hana juseyo.' (Excuse me, one soju please.) but failed to summon up enough liquid courage in the end.
The irony of escaping subzero temperatures – so cold it drained my phone's battery in minutes – to seek refuge in a cozy tented street food stall only to order ice-cold soju didn't escape me.
It's a dream come true, perpetuated by K-drama where the orange-tented pojangmacha usually sets the scene for developing romance between the male and female lead or colleagues drowning out woes after work.
Located between exits 6 and 5 of Jongno 3-ga Station, Jongno 3-ga Pojangmacha Street comes alive every evening till late. Further away, I stumbled upon some more on the street where Caffe Pascucci is at.
Irene Yoo, chef and co-owner of Orion Bar in Brooklyn, New York City, said: 'The Jongno neighborhood is a little touristy but very alluring for its crowded collection of pojangmacha.'
The streetside drinking experience wasn't as affordable as one might think. Soju was cheap but I found anju (food consumed with alcohol) a little pricey – for one or two persons – so I didn't order frivolously. I drank alone, surrounded by strangers, already committing a faux pas in a country that takes pride in drinking together.
FROM ANJU TO HOESIK
Alcohol is deeply ingrained in Korean social life from Buddhist ceremonies and holidays to homebrewing culture and Confucian ancestral rituals. As early as in the Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392), many dishes were created to be paired with alcohol.
My first meal in Seoul was at Samhaejip in Jongno 3-ga's Bossam Alley. It would have been a perfect spot to imbibe if not for the fact that we were there at noon. Top your bossam (boiled pork wraps) with oysters for a briny hit before slurping the piping hot gamjatang (pork spine stew) which comes free with every order. We knew we were at the right place seeing the boisterous group of elderly diners next table.
Today, anju is more than just bar food – it's an essential part of Korean drinking culture. Jokbal (braised pig's trotters) is usually enjoyed with soju and on rainy days, Koreans crave jeon and makgeolli. So common it is to have fried chicken and beer together, there is even a portmanteau for it – chimaek, made up of 'chikin' (chicken) and 'maekju' (beer).
At Majanggol, a butcher restaurant in Majang Meat Market, in between sips of soju and mouthfuls of perfectly-grilled chunks of hanwoo, we witnessed employees politely time their escape when their bosses got up to leave.
Zhang Anqi, who has been living in Seoul for more than two years, observed: 'I have hoesik at least once every two weeks as I work in a fairly traditional Korean company. It's definitely less frequent compared to pre-pandemic times and hoesik are usually not organised on Fridays to promote work-life balance.'
Hoesik is a unique aspect of Korean drinking culture – drawn-out after-work boozy dinners to foster team bonding and camaraderie.
Pandemic restrictions accelerated the ongoing shift away from hoesik culture following Seoul High Court's landmark 2007 ruling which made forcing subordinates to drink alcohol illegal and the 2017 #MeToo movement where women protested more openly against workplace sexual harassment.
'People still feel some pressure to attend though. If your boss enjoys hoesik, it can be hard to say no,' Zhang added.
Post-pandemic, Koreans do not succumb as much to the pressures of attending hoesik. Younger generations who do not like binge-drinking or hanging out with colleagues after office hours are more vocal in expressing their views and some companies are starting to take note.
Denise Tan, a Singaporean global coordinator based in Seoul, hasn't attended a hoesik since joining her company one year ago. 'From what I heard, the attendance was so poor and the atmosphere so awkward that the bosses gave up hosting them.'
KOREANS LOVE THEIR SOJU
Traditionally distilled from rice at 35 per cent alcohol by volume (ABV), soju is probably the most well-known sool (Korean traditional liquor). In 1965, facing postwar rice shortage, producers were banned from using local rice to make alcoholic drinks.
The soju in green bottles we are familiar with was born against that backdrop – made from cheap starches like sweet potatoes and tapioca, then distilled to over 95 per cent ABV before diluting to 30 per cent ABV and mixed with artificial sweeteners to make it more palatable.
Diluted soju became widely popular because it was cheap, allowing for people of all social classes to clink glasses, talk more casually, and bond. During the economic boom of the 70s and 80s, Koreans wanted drinking to be efficient too – it was faster to get drunk on soju.
Domestic sales of diluted soju hit 3.7 trillion won (S$3.5 billion) in 2020, ranking as the top alcoholic beverage with a 42.1 per cent market share followed by beer at 39.7 percent. Last year, soju exports exceeded US$200 million for the first time, on the back of an unfaltering K-wave and growing demand for low-alcohol beverages.
Hitejinro first introduced Chamisul soju in 1998 with 23 per cent ABV, then launched a lower-proof version called Chamisul Fresh in 2006. Chamisul Fresh's alcohol content was further reduced to 16 per cent last year. Likewise, Lotte Chilsung Beverage also lowered the ABV of its flagship soju Chum-Churum from 20 per cent in 2006 to 16.5 per cent in 2021. Increasingly-popular fruit-flavoured soju is even milder – at about 13 per cent ABV.
In recent years, the widespread popularity of green-bottled soju has given rise to an interest in artisanally-made ones, closer to how soju should be – undiluted and tasting more like whisky.
At the same time, with rising inflation and high interest rates, many Koreans are also opting to spend more thoughtfully and drink at home, either alone or with friends, sometimes indulging in premium alcohol.
Yeonghwi Yun, co-owner and manager of Bar Cham, said: 'Like us, many bars are now making cocktails with various Korean spirits, including soju. Premium distilled sojus like Hwayo, Won Soju, and Tokki Soju are also becoming widely known around the world, changing perceptions of soju.'
Bar Cham is known for its innovative cocktails that honour Korean heritage. I took a risk – turning up at opening time as bookings were notoriously hard to score. It worked. I had my first 'gimbap' there, a delicious concoction crafted with Tokki Soju and complemented by fragrant sesame oil and cucumber.
For those interested to learn about traditional Korean liquors, a good place to start would be at The Sool Gallery, a government-run tasting room offering free tasting sessions in English. Email them if you do not have a real name-verified Naver account to make a reservation. There is a small exhibition and you can buy sool to take home too.
HANGOVER SOUP AND OTHER CURES
An unmissable part of Korean drinking culture is haejangguk, or hangover soup, not unlike Singapore's post-revelry supper of bak kut teh or pig's organ soup. A comforting bowl of broth that's easy on the stomach to rehydrate and cure a hangover? This is something I can definitely get behind.
Whether you prefer kongnamulguk (soybean sprout soup) or hwangtaeguk (dried pollack soup), there's a haejangguk for everyone. Instant noodles work just as well to combat that dreadful hunger-nausea.
Founded in 1937 during the Japanese occupation, Seoul's sixth oldest restaurant Cheongjinok specialises in Seoul-style haejangguk, with cow blood curd – a big draw for me – and soy bean paste. Despite the mixed reviews in recent years, I found it satisfying – and my children asked for seconds.
I asked Yun if he had a go-to haejangguk eatery. 'It's a gamjatang place in Jongno district. I've been working in this area for more than 10 years now and Gwanghwamun Ttukgam is still my all-time favourite.'
For those who would rather not slurp their hangovers away, anti-hangover products offer a straightforward alternative. From bottled drinks to gummies and gelatin sticks, hangover cures are typically enriched with vitamins, electrolytes, and Korean herbs, all promising to curb the effects of over-drinking.
Fueled by widespread alcohol consumption, South Korea's hangover cure market was valued at 347.3 billion won (S$323 million) in 2023, up from 224.3 billion won in 2021 – significant enough to prompt government regulation. Starting January this year, manufacturers will need to conduct clinical trials to back up their product claims.
I've learnt the hard way that the most challenging part of hitting up a pojangmacha isn't figuring out when to stop ordering more soju but making it through the morning after.
At the first convenience store I came upon, serendipitously playing Le Sserafim's Unforgiven on repeat, I desperately asked the cashier for hangover remedy recommendations. The pills didn't have much effect on my throbbing headache and nausea. Eventually, I found relief in cup noodles. I should have known better.