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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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.