Adventurous eating in Joseon

A young man eating his dinner in the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

When Sumner Vinton and his wife traveled to Japan and Korea in 1918, they found themselves under strict surveillance. The world was still at war and visitors were few. It was only natural that they were suspected of being German agents and were questioned unmercifully. Vinton wrote:

"The Japanese secret service is indefatigable and unescapable. I do not remember having to tell the color of my grandfather's eyes or the age of my mother's stepsister, but every other detail of personal and family history was mercilessly uncovered in the exhaustive inquiries to which we were subjected at each stop."

Although the Japanese secret police were polite, Vinton was convinced that they held "a constant suspicion" of him and his wife ― especially when they discovered that the Americans' purpose for traveling was to take pictures for their religious publications.

It is a shame that Vinton did not describe the train ride from Fusan (Busan) to Seoul and then on to Pyongyang. Two years earlier, an American visitor described the wonderful service provided on the train ― especially the dinner which was declared to be "vastly better" than those served aboard trains in Japan:

"The tiffin (luncheon) was table d'hote and cost only one yen (50 cents). It comprised seven courses, and its main features, relieved of their French disguises, were soup, fish, chicken salad, beefsteak, brown potatoes, succotash, ice cream and lady fingers, apples, oranges, bananas and coffee. Plenty of everything good. Electric bell at every table. Speedy service. Eternal politeness. And if this were not enough, ice cream and wafers were served at 3 p.m.!"

Much of Vinton's description of Korea seems to have concentrated not so much upon the country but with his problems of the ever-present Japanese secret police who "practiced their English on us in securing the salient facts of our biographies."

A small Korean restaurant in the early 1900s / Robert Neff Collection

He did, however, described guksu, or noodles. It seems that Vinton somehow negotiated with a restaurateur to photograph a family shrine but there was some hesitation as the man feared that his family shrine might suffer from the "blinding glare" of a camera flash. Vinton wrote:

"While negotiations were pending, he [the restaurateur] invited me to be his guest at a dinner of [guksu]. Fearing to offend him by declining and thus lose my last chance at the shrine, I accepted the invitation. This was done, not without trepidation, I assure you, as I had heard other travelers speak in terms of varied comments on this dish."

According to Vinton, guksu was the "great national dish of Korea" and, sitting at a low table, he waited in anticipation ― if not fear.

"I watched the servant approach and set a bowl of [guksu] before me. The bowl contained about three pints ― an unusually large portion because I was an honored guest! The manner of making [guksu] is this: into a bowl partly filled with steaming vermicelli of the endless variety a large lump of ice is plunged. Over this is poured a portion of hot beef stew. The ice congeals the beef fat into little islands of grease, and one never knows whether the portion dangling from the end of one's chopstick will be icy cold or burning hot. The vermicelli, which is very strong and sinuous, is lifted to the mouth with the chopstick. Keeping a firm hold on it with lips and teeth, the implements are slipped down to lift again. Power of suction takes up the slack."

Despite that lengthy description, he never mentioned whether he liked it or not.

Vinton was like many American visitors to Korea in the late 19th and early 20th centuries who considered themselves adventurous but their courage, evidently, didn't extend to the dining table.

Horace N. Allen ― who came to Korea first as a missionary and later served as the American minister ― had a love-hate relationship with kimchi. He wrote, "The odour of genuine [kimchi] in all its strength is something remarkable." In 1885, while serving as a doctor, he was sitting at a desk in his office when he was assaulted by the "most penetrating smell" that he could not readily identify. He assumed it was coming from a very sick patient and admonished his staff for allowing patients to enter his office rather than be seen at the hospital. The staff quickly denied any wrong doing and, after a careful investigation, discovered "the odour came from an unsuspicious looking little jar left [near his door] by a grateful patient." It was a jar full of kimchi and he quickly had it removed ― but, it didn't go to waste.

"From the perfumed breaths of the coolies [laborers], thereafter, it was evident they appreciated it even if I could not."

Allen's children Harry and Maurice, however, were extremely adventurous when it came to Korean food. At a dinner they attended at the palace, the boys were well-fed on a number of dishes which they ate with great gusto. One dish ― a soup almost solid with noodles, chopped meat and cooked eggs and heated over a charcoal stove placed in the center of the table ― seems to have been especially favored by the boys. Their mother and the other Western women were less than pleased with it and nibbled here and there to appear polite. The boys' mother took the opportunity to try and deflect attention from her lack of appetite by sweetly remarking to their host, "Harry is very fond of Korean food." The young boy promptly declared ― much to his mother's embarrassment ― that he preferred American food.

Eventually, Horace Allen became quite the fan of kimchi ― sans the garlic ― and later bragged that he was one of the few foreigners who appreciated it and always had a large amount made for the winter. Years later he wrote that his experience with kimchi was a memory that pleasantly haunted him.

For the modern traveler and foreign resident in Korea, I would encourage you to go out and be adventurous ― explore not only the temples and palaces of Korea but also its cuisine. Let the food become a pleasant memory to haunt you for the years to come.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books including, Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.