It's not easy to tell exactly why makgeolli is the latest ― and abrupt ― craze among drinkers these days.
Yes, people tend to resort more to alcohol during economically difficult times, but during previous slumps, they used to drink hard liquor such as soju ― and whisky if they were rich ― rather than this traditional rice wine, which is only slightly stronger than beer. One might just guess the low alcohol content could be one big appeal for the modern-day guzzlers, many of whom are also health nuts increasingly preferring softer drinks.
Whatever the reason, makgeolli, which has long been regarded ― or despised by some of the nouveau riche ― as the wine for farmers and urban poor, is roaring back, with its production, sales and exports all registering increases of up to 40 percent this year. Moreover, even ultra-chic cafes around universities, club houses on golf courses and airlines are serving this milky-colored, sweet/sour wine, whose price is almost the lowest of all alcoholic beverages in the country. An unexpected victim bearing the brunt of renewed makgeolli boom is wine, which saw its imports plunge by up to 30 percent for the first time in a decade or so.
Another backdrop behind this apparently unforeseen popularity of makgeolli could be a cultural one, as increasingly wealthier Koreans have come to have pride in everything of their own, in part encouraged by the Korean pop culture boom of ``hallyu'' in East Asia. It was the Japanese colonialists that kept the Korean families from brewing their own makgeolli, which should be called the real traditional Korean wine, considering soju, the most popular distilled liquor, originally came from Mongolia during the Goryeo Kingdom. Ironically enough, it was also the Japanese tourists, particularly figure-conscious women, who helped to rekindle the makgeolli fervor.
We see a great potential in this regard for the wine with thousands of years of history to re-emerge as the popular drink not just for Koreans but for all global villagers. People can hardly drink too much makgeolli and become intoxicated or obese, as this unrefined wine makes them feel full easily. In short, most people ― except for incurable winos of course ― can remain slim, sober and satisfied in alcoholic terms.
As anyone who has drunk this time-old wine would admit, however, makgeolli has a long way to go before making this sudden popularity into an enduring fad both here and abroad. First of all, it is urgent to upgrade its quality to meet the tastes of a wider range of drinkers. One easy way is to use home-grown, high-quality rice instead of cheap, imported materials, which will also help to cut down on the ever-swelling stockpiles of government-purchased rice.
Second, the government needs to quickly standardize its production, stipulating details starting from raw materials to brewing and packaging so that consumers, both near and far, can enjoy the same quality of wine for a far longer period of time. Third, Korean producers and consumers should join hands to cultivate a cultural product related with this particular wine, ranging from peculiar porcelain bowls exclusively used as makgeolli cups to traditional Korean taverns, as people know French cafes for wine and Japanese ``nobadayakis" for sake.
Last but not least, Koreans will need to be more attentive to keep their traditional cultural property from foreign pilferers; some Japanese firms have already preemptively registered some of Korea's most famous makgeolli brands as their own trademarks. Kimchi has long been vying with Japanese ``gimuchi'' over its originality, and soon makgeolli will have to do the same with the Japanese ``matkori.''