Tag: Korean folklore

  • The Weird Science Behind Korean Food Nationalism

    The Weird Science Behind Korean Food Nationalism

    A 2023 paper published in the Journal of Ethnic Foods argues that Korean cuisine developed in isolation, authentic Korean food isn’t spicy, and even that royal court cuisine isn’t truly Korean. In this episode, we examine the paper’s historical, linguistic, archaeological, and scientific claims to see where the evidence supports the authors and where nationalism appears to outweigh scholarship.

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    Credits

    Produced by Joe McPherson and Shawn Morrissey

    Music by Soraksan

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    Angel Earl
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    Ashley Wright
    Edward Bradford
    Boram Yoon
    Chad Struhs
    Stewart MacMillan
    Louise Dreisig

    The Weird Science Behind Korean Food Nationalism

    Academic papers carry a certain weight. Most of us assume that if something has been peer reviewed and published in a scholarly journal, it has survived careful scrutiny. That doesn’t mean every conclusion is correct, but it does mean the evidence should be solid.

    That’s what makes a paper published in the Journal of Ethnic Foods so fascinating.

    The paper, Science and Philosophy of Korea Traditional Foods (K-food), sets out to explain what makes Korean cuisine unique. That’s a perfectly worthwhile subject. Korean food has developed into one of the world’s most distinctive culinary traditions, and its growing global popularity deserves serious scholarship.

    The problem isn’t that the authors celebrate Korean food.

    The problem is that they often abandon careful scholarship in favor of sweeping conclusions that the evidence simply doesn’t support. It’s perpetuating more of the weird myths we’ve talked about in a previous episode.

    It Starts With the Conclusion

    One of the first things the paper does is argue that previous historians have misunderstood Korean food because they relied too heavily on Chinese historical sources. The authors state that their goal is to correct these “distortions” and present the “scientific truths” about Korean cuisine.

    That’s an unusually bold claim.

    Good research normally begins with a question. It follows the evidence wherever it leads. This paper often feels as though it already knows the answer and spends the rest of its pages trying to prove it.

    That pattern appears again and again.

    The Myth of an Isolated Cuisine

    A central argument of the paper is that Korean food developed in relative isolation because the peninsula is surrounded by mountains and seas. It even invokes the old nickname “The Hermit Kingdom” to reinforce the idea that Korea evolved largely apart from its neighbors.

    History tells a much more complicated story.

    For thousands of years, Korea maintained relationships with China, Japan, the peoples of Manchuria, and later the Mongols. Ideas crossed borders constantly. Buddhism entered Korea from China. Confucian philosophy reshaped Joseon society. Trade moved ingredients and cooking techniques throughout Northeast Asia. Wars, migration, diplomacy, and commerce all influenced what people ate.

    None of that makes Korean food less Korean.

    If anything, it makes its evolution even more impressive. Great cuisines don’t emerge in sealed laboratories. They develop through adaptation.

    Distinctive Doesn’t Mean Unique

    The paper also argues that Korea’s banchan culture exists nowhere else in the world.

    Anyone who has enjoyed a Korean meal understands why banchan feels special. A table filled with small dishes creates an experience unlike most Western dining.

    But that doesn’t mean Korea invented the concept of serving a staple food alongside multiple shared dishes.

    Across East and Southeast Asia, meals commonly revolve around rice accompanied by various communal dishes. Korea developed its own version, complete with its own etiquette, flavors, fermentation techniques, and seasonal traditions.

    That’s already a remarkable achievement.

    Claiming that nobody else does anything remotely similar simply isn’t necessary.

    The Strange Claims About Sugar and Oil

    One section of the paper argues that Korean cuisine developed without sugar or oil as elements that make food delicious.

    That immediately raises questions.

    Traditional Korean cooking has long relied on sesame oil and perilla oil. Honey and grain syrups have been used as sweeteners for centuries. Traditional desserts like yakgwa would be difficult to explain if Korean cuisine truly developed without either oil or sweetness.

    The authors seem to be trying to distinguish Korean food from neighboring cuisines so aggressively that they end up making statements that don’t match Korean culinary history itself.

    Can Genetics Explain Recipes?

    Perhaps the biggest leap in the paper comes when it moves into population genetics.

    The authors discuss ancient invasions, changes in male genetic diversity, and the role of women in preserving language and culture. From there, they conclude that Korean food could not have come from China or Japan.

    That’s an extraordinary conclusion.

    Women absolutely played an essential role in preserving food traditions throughout Korean history. Recipes, techniques, and family customs often passed through generations of women.

    But ancient DNA cannot tell us where recipes originated.

    Population genetics and culinary history are two very different fields. Connecting them requires evidence that simply isn’t presented.

    Is Korean Food Really Not Spicy?

    Another surprising claim is that authentic Korean food isn’t actually spicy because traditional Korean chili peppers are relatively mild.

    There is a kernel of truth here.

    Korean gochugaru is generally milder than many peppers used in Thailand, India, or parts of China. Korean cuisine often emphasizes balance rather than overwhelming heat.

    But saying authentic Korean food is never spicy swings too far in the opposite direction.

    Anyone who has eaten dishes prepared with generous amounts of gochugaru or Cheongyang peppers knows that Korean food is perfectly capable of delivering serious heat.

    Replacing one exaggeration with another doesn’t improve the scholarship.

    Royal Cuisine Isn’t Korean?

    Perhaps the most astonishing statement in the paper is the claim that Joseon royal court cuisine isn’t really Korean because it was influenced by Chinese cooking.

    That misunderstands how culture works.

    Joseon court cuisine developed inside Korean palaces. It reflected Korean politics, Korean ingredients, Korean tastes, and centuries of refinement by Korean royal kitchens.

    Every major cuisine absorbs outside influences.

    French cooking borrowed from Italy. Japanese cuisine adapted ideas from China. Korean cuisine transformed ingredients and techniques from many different sources into something unmistakably its own.

    Influence does not erase identity.

    National Pride and Good Scholarship

    None of this means Korean food isn’t extraordinary.

    It is.

    Korean fermentation techniques remain among the most sophisticated in the world. Kimchi alone represents centuries of experimentation and regional variation. The balance of vegetables, soups, grains, fermented sauces, and side dishes created a culinary tradition unlike any other.

    That’s exactly why this paper feels so unnecessary.

    Korean cuisine doesn’t become more impressive by claiming it developed in complete isolation. It doesn’t gain prestige by denying centuries of cultural exchange or by stretching evidence beyond what it can support.

    The real history is already compelling.

    Korean food grew through local innovation, foreign influence, adaptation, hardship, trade, war, and creativity. Like every great cuisine, it reflects both the uniqueness of its people and the world around them.

    That’s a far richer story than any myth of culinary purity could ever be.

  • The Korean Ghost and Mr. Skeptic

    The Korean Ghost and Mr. Skeptic

    After the release of Supernatural Encounters in South Korea, one of the comments Shawn received surprised him.

    Several readers expected a book about ghosts to be written by a true believer. Instead, they found a surprisingly skeptical approach to paranormal claims. One reviewer described the book as “a rather clever turn,” while another called Shawn “a more discerning Peter Underwood.”

    In this episode, Joe and Shawn discuss why skepticism is essential when researching ghost encounters, supernatural folklore, shamanism, and alleged hauntings. They explore pareidolia, memorates, social media ghost hunters, fraudulent psychics, and why cultural traditions should never be treated as automatic evidence for the supernatural.

    The conversation also examines famous haunted locations, including why Yongma Land is probably Seoul’s most successful ghost story despite not being haunted at all.

    Book recommendations

    • Into the Occult, Peter Underwood
      • So many books; others to consider:
        • A Ghost Hunters Handbook
        • Dictionary of the Supernatural
    • The Supernatural, Douglas Hill and Pat Williams
    • Shawn’s book! (Not too many books about true alleged encounters in Korea)

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    Join our Patreon to get more stuff

    https://patreon.com/darksideofseoul

    Book a tour of The Dark Side of Seoul Ghost Walk at https://darksideofseoul.com

    Credits

    Produced by Joe McPherson and Shawn Morrissey

    Music by Soraksan

    Top Tier Patrons

    Angel Earl
    Joel Bonomini
    Devon Hiphner
    Gabi Palomino
    Steve Marsh
    Eva Sikora
    Hunter Winter
    Cecilia Löfgren Dumas
    Ashley Wright
    Edward Bradford
    Boram Yoon
    Chad Struhs
    Stewart MacMillan
    Louise Dreisig

    Why a Ghostlore Researcher Should Be Skeptical

    One of the more surprising reactions Shawn received after publishing Supernatural Encounters in South Korea came from a reader who thought he believed too little.

    The reader had apparently expected a book full of unquestioning belief in ghosts, shamans, and supernatural encounters. Instead, they found discussions of skepticism, psychology, folklore, and the possibility that many alleged hauntings aren’t hauntings at all.

    They weren’t the only one to notice. One reviewer commented that reading ghost claims researched by a skeptic was refreshing. Another described Shawn as “a more discerning Peter Underwood.”

    That reaction says a lot about how people think paranormal research works.

    For some reason, people assume that if you spend years researching ghosts, you must believe every story you’re told. The opposite is usually true.

    The longer you spend around ghost stories, haunted locations, psychics, shamans, and paranormal investigators, the more skeptical you become.

    Not because mystery disappears.

    Because bullshit doesn’t.

    Loving the Weird

    One of the first things Shawn discusses in the book is his lifelong fascination with the supernatural. It shaped the movies he watches, the music he listens to, the art he enjoys, and the books that fill his shelves. Gothic horror films. Doom metal. Horror comics. Folklore collections. Ghost stories. The weird has always been there.

    When he uses the word “weird,” though, he doesn’t mean unusual. Everybody calls themselves weird these days. If you have to tell people you’re weird, you’re probably not.

    He’s using the older sense of the word. The unexplained. The uncanny. The things that seem to sit just outside our understanding of reality.

    That’s what attracts him.

    It’s also why skepticism matters.

    The Problem with Charlatans

    The supernatural attracts charlatans the way streetlights attract moths.

    Religion is full of them. Folk traditions are full of them. Social media may have produced more than all previous generations combined. Spend enough time researching ghosts and eventually you’ll meet people whose stories don’t quite line up. Dates change. Timelines shift. Historical details are wrong. The supernatural claim gets bigger every time they tell it.

    The problem is that many people assume cultural tradition itself is evidence.

    It isn’t.

    Culture deserves respect. Folklore deserves preservation. Traditions deserve study. None of those things automatically prove that a ghost, spirit, ancestor, demon, or deity was actually present.

    This is one reason Shawn’s comments about Korean shamans occasionally surprise people. He doesn’t believe shamans automatically deserve to be believed simply because they’re shamans. The same standard should apply to everyone. Claims require evidence.

    Ghosts Have Gone Electric

    That includes ghost hunters.

    One section of the book, “Ghosts Have Gone Electric,” takes aim at the modern paranormal industry that has grown up around social media. Every week seems to produce another YouTube investigator waving blinking gadgets around an allegedly haunted building while dramatic music plays in the background.

    Many of these places aren’t haunted.

    Some aren’t even abandoned.

    Yongma Land is probably the best example. It’s routinely described online as one of Seoul’s most haunted locations. The problem is that visitors pay admission to enter. It functions as a photography and filming location. The ghost stories generate attention. The attention generates visitors. The visitors generate money.

    That’s not a haunting.

    That’s marketing.

    The Stories Behind the Stories

    None of this means ghost encounters don’t happen.

    Shawn makes it very clear throughout the book that he believes genuinely unexplained experiences occur. They’re simply much rarer than most people think.

    The biggest lesson he learned while researching the supernatural isn’t that ghosts are everywhere.

    It’s that most people who report ghost encounters aren’t trying to tell ghost stories.

    They’re trying to explain something they genuinely experienced.

    Whether their explanation is correct is another question entirely.

    That’s where skepticism becomes valuable.

    Not because it kills the mystery.

    Because it helps us get closer to whatever truth might be hiding underneath it.

  • K-Pop Demon Hunters: Folklore & Satire

    K-Pop Demon Hunters: Folklore & Satire

    K-Pop Demon Hunters: Folklore & Satire

    KPop Demon Hunters is loaded with Korean folklore beneath its neon spectacle. We dig into mudang rituals, dokkaebi, tiger and magpie tricksters, and the Honmoon “soul-gate.” We also talk about how the movie is both a love letter to K-Pop and a biting satire of idol culture.

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    Join our Patreon to get more stuff

    https://patreon.com/darksideofseoul

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    Credits

    Produced by Joe McPherson and Shawn Morrissey

    Music by Soraksan

    Top Tier Patrons

    Angel Earl
    Joel Bonomini
    Devon Hiphner
    Gabi Palomino
    Steve Marsh
    Eva Sikora
    Hunter Winter
    Cecilia Löfgren Dumas
    Ashley Wright
    Edward Bradford
    Boram Yoon
    Chad Struhs
    Stewart MacMillan
    Louise Dreisig

    KPop Demon Hunters: Folklore, Satire, and Soul Gates

    Netflix’s KPop Demon Hunters looks like another glitter bomb in the K-content machine. Neon, idols, sparkles. At first glance it seems like pure fan service. Scratch under the surface and you find a film loaded with Korean folklore. On top of that, it skewers idol culture while pretending to celebrate it. It works because it is both sincere and sarcastic at the same time.

    Shamans in Sequins

    Huntr/x, the girl group turned demon hunters, is basically a modern mudang trio. In Korea, mudang are female shamans who perform gut rituals with music, dance, and props to deal with spirits. The film reimagines these rituals as idol concerts with swords and choreography. Same concept, bigger light show.

    Their weapons come straight from tradition. Rumi uses the saingeom, a legendary sword tied to exorcism. Mira wields the gokdo, a polearm from the old Gaya confederacy. Zoey throws ritual knives. This is not a coincidence. The film is saying that K-Pop idols are shamans with better marketing.

    Monsters in Mascara

    The demons behave like dokkaebi. Western critics call them “goblins,” which is lazy. They are uniquely Korean spirits, tied to chaos and discarded objects. The rival boy band, the Saja Boys, takes its name from the jeoseung saja, the reapers who escort souls to the afterlife. They perform sugary pop while literally eating souls. The satire is so blunt it borders on comedy.

    Tigers, Magpies, and Tricksters

    The tiger and magpie pairing comes from hojakdo folk paintings. Sometimes these paintings mocked authority. Other times they offered good fortune or moral lessons. The film flattens that nuance into slapstick. The tiger is bumbling, the magpie clever. Korean audiences recognize the old motif. International viewers just see goofy animal sidekicks.

    Folklore is more complicated than this. Tigers in Korean tradition are often symbols of protection and divine power, not just buffoons. The movie reduces them for a laugh. It works on screen, but it simplifies a rich tradition.

    The Soul Gate and Demon Boss

    The Honmoon, or soul gate, is the film’s magical barrier. It echoes Korean ideas about thresholds as spiritually risky places. The villain, Gwi-Ma, draws his name from “ma,” the concept of corrupting or demonic energy. These references are not deep cuts. They are basic folklore, dressed up in neon animation.

    Culture in the Details

    The cultural Easter eggs keep the story grounded. Characters wear gat hats and norigae charms. Props like drums and fans sneak into the fight choreography. Food shows up constantly: kimchi, tteokbokki, hotteok. And of course, the ramen-slurping scene. Eating styles in Korea are cultural rituals in their own right. The gag is funny, but it also anchors the fantasy in something familiar.

    Animation as Ritual

    The visuals mix anime-style framing with concert cinematography. Fight scenes use smear frames and exaggerated movement that mimic ritual dance. The effect makes the battles feel like concerts and the concerts feel like rituals.

    A Love Letter and a Roast

    The Love Letter

    • Idols are presented as shamans whose work literally saves the world
    • Huntr/x fits the classic roles: the leader, the visual, the rapper
    • The soundtrack leans into K-Pop’s strength: spectacle, hooks, rhythm
    • Performances are framed as sacred, not disposable

    The Roast

    • The Saja Boys are soulless on purpose. They parody overproduced idol groups, shiny on the outside and hollow inside.
    • Zoey’s backstory is a joke. She is the rapper from Burbank. Not exactly a hotbed of hip-hop. Yet her “foreign” identity is marketed as street credibility. This mocks how overseas Koreans are fetishized as exotic and authentic at the same time.
    • Image-making is the real villain. Fans and companies will accept any narrative as long as it looks glossy.
    • Idol clichés are pushed until they break. Fan service, competitions, branding. The Idol Awards climax turns a pop show into a cosmic apocalypse. It is hilarious and sharp at the same time.–> Check out our interview with Sharon Kong-Perring on the Dark Side of K-Pop Fandom for more in-depth discussion.
    • The gags drive the point home. Ramen jokes, gossip, slapstick tigers. They highlight how silly the culture can look when exaggerated.
    • Exorcism as concert is the ultimate satire. The film equates sacred ritual with mass-market entertainment. It suggests fans already treat idols like gods.

    Satire in the Songs

    The soundtrack is where the satire bites hardest.

    • Huntr/x songs are earnest and emotional. Rumi’s big song is about self-acceptance. It fits the idol-as-shaman theme.
    • Saja Boys songs are vapid by design.
      • Soda Pop is catchy but bland, a parody of fluffy summer singles.
      • Your Idol is openly sinister. The lyrics are about devouring fans’ souls. The crowd screams for more without noticing. That is the joke.

    This is not subtle. The Saja Boys are written as satire of the idol system itself. They consume fans while fans cheer them on.

    Why It Works

    KPop Demon Hunters pulls it off because it commits. Folklore is not a garnish. It shapes the weapons, the monsters, the props, and the humor. Satire is not a cheap parody. It is baked into the songs, the characters, and the narrative.

    The result is a film that honors K-Pop’s emotional pull while mocking its absurdity. It works as a love letter and as a roast. And that balance is what makes it memorable.

  • Tragic Ghosts

    Tragic Ghosts

    What makes a ghost so moody, and why are some spirits bound to haunt the living with vengeance and sorrow? We explore the most tragic and unfulfilled spirits in Korean tradition, from wonhon—the ghosts of the forsaken, to yeommae and taejagwi—the spirits of those who died in anguish or sorrow. Join us as we uncover the stories behind these forlorn spirits and the folklore that surrounds them.

    Apple Podcasts SpotifyAudible Bleav Podcast Network 

    Join our Patreon to get more stuff

    https://patreon.com/darksideofseoul

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    Credits

    Produced by Joe McPherson and Shawn Morrissey

    Music by Soraksan

    Top Tier Patrons

    Angel Earl
    Joel Bonomini
    Devon Hiphner
    Gabi Palomino
    Steve Marsh
    Eva Sikora
    Hunter Winter
    Cecilia Löfgren Dumas
    Ashley Wright
    Edward Bradford
    Boram Yoon
    Chad Struhs
    Stewart MacMillan
    Louise Dreisig

    Tragic Ghosts in Korean Folklore: Unfinished Business and the Spirits Who Haunt

    In this episode, we dive deep into the lore surrounding Korea’s most tragic ghosts—those who were wronged, those who died with regrets, and those whose stories have left a lasting imprint on Korean folklore.

    What Makes a Ghost Tragic?

    In Korean folklore, a ghost’s tragedy is often tied to their unfulfilled desires or injustices that were never addressed. Whether it’s the tragic death of a mother who never had the chance to care for her child or the soul of a person who died without descendants, Korean ghosts are frequently tied to unresolved earthly matters.

    In Buddhist belief, ghosts are often seen as beings who remain attached to the living world due to their desires. This attachment keeps them stuck between the realms of the living and the dead, preventing them from passing on to the afterlife. This deep-rooted attachment fuels many of the tragic stories associated with Korean ghosts.

    Types of Tragic Ghosts in Korea

    • Wonhon: These are the ghosts of individuals who died with deep resentment. They are spirits that have unresolved grievances, often caused by unfair deaths, oppression, or unjust treatment. These ghosts are often the most dangerous as their desires remain unsatisfied.
    • Yeommae: An alleged practice described in the Seongho-saseol, ghosts that arise from yeommae are child victims of kidnapping and murder.
    • Mujugohon: The ghost of a person who died childless. In Korean tradition, a person without descendants cannot receive proper ancestral rites, and thus, their spirit is left in limbo.
    • Hatal: The restless spirit of a mother who died in childbirth, unable to care for her child. Often depicted searching for the child she was never able to nurture, hatal spirits are some of the most sorrowful ghosts in Korean lore.
    • Taejagwi: These are the spirits of infants who passed away before being weaned. Their cries are said to be heard in the night, a haunting reminder of the innocent lives that were tragically cut short.
    • Saetani: Abandoned child ghosts, often the spirits of children who were left to die or forgotten by their parents. These spirits are said to wander aimlessly, filled with anger and sorrow over their abandonment.
    • Agwi: Hungry ghosts rooted in Indian lore, agwi are spirits that crave food or other physical needs. These ghosts can sometimes manifest as figures who are constantly in search of sustenance, forever dissatisfied.
    • Yeongsan: Ghosts of people who died tragically, often murdered or wrongfully killed. These spirits are tied to the injustice of their deaths and remain in the world of the living, seeking retribution or peace.

    Whether you believe in ghosts or not, Korean ghosts provide a fascinating look at views on life, death, and the unresolved emotions that linger in between.

    Tune In

    Join us as we delve into the stories of these tragic spirits and their lasting impact on Korean culture. And remember, the next time you hear a creak in the floorboards, it could just be the spirit of someone with unfinished business.