Hotteok, Myeongdong.

They look like squashed hockey pucks bathing in barely bubbling oil, but the people queueing in the cold suggest this pancake tastes better than it looks. And for once, the masses are right. Hotteok, 호떡 (often pronounced hodduck), Korean pancakes filled with a combination of sugar, nuts, seeds and cinnamon are an unlikely winter warmer. They’re sold on the street year-round, but as the cold intensifies, the hotteok stands multiply.

Mugwort hotteok, Yeonsinnae.

Each stand has it’s own variation. I’ve heard of savoury, japchae filled versions, but sweet is most common. They can be fried on a hotplate with plenty of oil, the yeast-based dough kept in check with a special hotteok-shaped squashing device, resulting in a hot, greasy and pleasantly chewy pancake. Or, they’re baked oil free in a special hotteok mold making an borderline-wholesome, flatbread style snack. Either way, the process of cooking the dough heats the filling, molten sugar mixing with spices and nuts, at once appetizing and a potential hazard to mouth and fingers.

The variations are endless. Dough can flavoured with 쑥 (ssuk, mugwort) or green tea or made with corn or other grains. It can be thin and crunchy, thick and yeast-risen, greasy, chewy, soggy or crisp. The filling presents even more possibilities.

Mugwort hotteok, Yeonsinnae.

An elderly husband and wife team set up shop in Yeonsinnae, northwestern Seoul, selling traditional style 쑥호떡 (mugwort hotteok), 500₩ (~40c AU) apiece. It’s mid afternoon and although the queue is short it’s slow-moving. People order seven pancakes, ten, and twelve. The man serves, adds clear oil to the hotplate while the woman sections off pieces of sticky green tinged dough. She flattens them with greased fingertips and fills them to bursting with a simple brown sugar, cinnamon mix. Each filled ball  makes its way from the cooler extremes of the hotplate forwards. First they’re left, still spherical, for the yeast to activate and rise. Then, they’re moved forward and squashed flat with a special hotteok sized implement. They’re oiled and flipped, forever moving forward, towards the hungry crowd.  The man fills paper bags and hands them across the hotplate, or wraps single orders in used paper squares, for immediate consumption. These hotteok are dangerously full of sugar, but the herbal chewy pancake offsets any prospect of cloying. A few bites in and it’s clear why the orders are so large here.

Hotteok, Myeongdong.

Warming, moorish and cheap, it’s tempting to rejoin the queue. But, the Korean winter is long and there’s always another hotteok stand just around the next corner.

Choraengi Rice Cake Soup with Dumplings 조랭이떡만두국 (Choraengi tteokmanduguk) at Koong

Tteokguk (떡국) is a traditional rice cake soup eaten in Korea to celebrate the new year. Long cylinders of tte0k rice cakes, cut on an angle and cooked until softly chewy and yielding are a necessary ingredient. Shredded or sliced meat, gim (김, laver type seaweed), ribbons of omelette and spring onion rounds add interest to the meaty stock. I’m certain that this celebratory food is best in the home, lovingly prepared and eaten with purpose of celebration.

Long cylinders of tteok.

Sometimes mandu (만두, dumplings) are added to form the variant tteokmanduguk (떡만두국), a preferable modification in my opinion. This version, eaten at Koong in Insa-dong is replete with small rice cake orbs, instead of the more common oval slices. These balls, called Choraengi, are present due to historical events, and hold their shape without softening and expanding in the soup as the others are wont to do. The broth, cooked for 12 hours, is clean yet full of flavour.  There is no egg, and it’s light on the gim, but four fat mandu more than make up for it. Filled with meat, tofu and chives with a thin wrapper, they’re simple and flavour packed. A huge picture of a Grandmother and Granddaughter adorn one wall, the elder having made these North Korean Gaesong-style dumplings for 75 years.

Cabbage and daikon kimchi, both sour and spicy red are provided, as well as a less common accompaniment. Dongchimi (동치미) looks like slabs of white diakon floating in cloudy water. It is a kind of kimchi that is only fermented for a short while, and is often not spicy. A spoonful of the ‘water’ tasted every-so-often clears and invigorates the palate wonderfully, with its lightly sour, complex flavour.

Koong serves other dishes, but is most famous for it’s tteokmanduguk and for good reason. It’s a tasty and satisfying, yet light version of a dish that I’ve only ever experienced as stodgy and oversalted, though my knowledge is understandably limited. Although it isn’t strictly a Korean New Years tteokguk, it’s the one I’d choose to eat. Happy lunar new year! 새해 복 많이 받으세요!

Koong
Choraengi Rice Cake Soup with Dumplings 조랭이떡만두국 – 8,000won.

Directions: Anguk station exit 6. Take the first major left down Insa-dong street. Keep walking until you pass the Ssamzie complex on your left, then take the next left. Take the next alley on your left and Koong is the first restaurant on the left. Or just look at the map.