Where Have All the Soju Tents Gone? Part 1

There is no Waffle House in Korea.

For decades, the pojangmacha was the last line of defense against going home hungry, broke, or blackout drunk. It was cheap, social, messy, and human. And then it slowly disappeared.

In Part 1 of Where Have All the Soju Tents Gone, we trace the origins of the pojangmacha from Japanese yatai and Joseon-era taverns to its explosion after the Korean War. We talk about why these tents mattered, who ran them, what people ate there, and why they became one of the most important informal social spaces in modern Korean history.

This is not just a story about street food dying. It is a story about how Seoul systematically removed the spaces that ordinary people built for themselves.

       

 

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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
Ron Chang
Hunter Winter
Cecilia Löfgren Dumas
Ashley Wright
Edward Bradford
Boram Yoon
Chad Struhs
Stewart MacMillan
Louise Dreisig

There is no Waffle House in Korea.
And for decades, the pojangmacha filled that role.

The pojangmacha was never just a food stall. It was a place where students, laborers, office workers, and drunks sat shoulder to shoulder, sharing soju, stories, and exhaustion. It was cheap, warm, and open when everything else was closed. And then it slowly disappeared.

This is the first part of a two-part exploration of how Seoul lost one of its most important everyday spaces.

What Is a Pojangmacha?

A pojangmacha is a mobile street food tent, traditionally made of a simple frame, a vinyl or canvas cover, folding shelves, and plastic stools. It serves simple food and alcohol late into the night.

But socially, it functioned as something much bigger. It was a pressure valve. A meeting point. A place where hierarchy softened and strangers talked.

Origins: From Yatai to Jumak

The modern pojangmacha grew out of two traditions.

The first was Japanese yatai culture, mobile food stalls that date back to the Edo period. The second was the Joseon-era jumak, roadside taverns that served travelers and locals.

By the 1930s, Korean-style stalls began appearing near factories, docks, and train stations. They sold gukbap, noodles, fish cakes, and cheap liquor to workers finishing long shifts.

Post-War Explosion and Survival Economy

After liberation and the Korean War, pojangmacha spread rapidly across Korean cities.

Post-war refugees and the urban poor converted carts and wagons into cooking stations. These stalls became a social safety net for people with little money and few options.

North Korean refugee food reshaped menus. Mul-naengmyeon, sundae, bindaetteok, buckwheat jelly, dumplings, and later Busan-style seafood entered the pojangmacha world. This was not culinary innovation for tourists. It was survival cooking.

What People Ate and Drank

Early menus included items most people today would never expect.

Grilled sparrows. Chicken feet. Liver. Tripe. Boiled squid. Salt-grilled mackerel. Pollack grilled with seasoning.

Alcohol was sold in small amounts. Soju by the glass. Makgeolli by the bottle. Food was salty on purpose.

Many stalls had no formal names. Places were known by nicknames like Wangdaepo or Seontangjip. Daepo referred to a large glass, not a brand.

Menus have barely changed since the 1980s. Pig’s feet, chicken gizzards, grilled eel, live octopus, mussel soup, fish cake soup, kimbap, noodles, tteokbokki, and fried foods still dominate what remains.

The Physical Structure of the Tents

The structure stayed consistent for decades.

Originally, four wooden poles held up thick cotton fabric. Floors were wooden. Walls were made from scrap materials. Lighting came from carbide lanterns, whose smell and sound became part of the atmosphere.

Over time, wooden poles became metal. Floors became vinyl. Carbide lanterns gave way to incandescent bulbs, then fluorescent lights, then LEDs. The form stayed the same. The materials modernized.

Who Ran the Pojangmacha

Most pojangmacha were run by women.

There was often no running water or sewage. Dishwashing and handwashing were improvised. Clean dishes were sometimes covered with clear plastic bags. Hygiene existed in practice, not regulation.

Despite this, the stalls were trusted. People returned night after night.

Pojangmacha During Authoritarian Korea

In the 1970s, pojangmacha became informal refuges during authoritarian rule.

Rapid industrialization, centralized power, and economic pressure weighed heavily on ordinary people. At night, workers gathered on wooden benches, drank together, and talked.

These stalls became vital communication spaces in a society where open speech was limited. Stories, frustrations, and solidarity flowed across plastic tables.

This role was captured in Park No-hae’s poetry, where the pojangmacha appears as a place where resentment melts and people become human again after work.

Modernization and the Beginning of the End

By the mid-1980s, Korea’s economy stabilized. Electricity and water reached new districts. Beer appeared on menus. Upscale stalls emerged.

Then came the Asian Games and the 1988 Seoul Olympics.

Suddenly, pojangmacha were no longer seen as survival infrastructure. They were framed as problems.

They were labeled illegal road occupation. Unsanitary. Smelly. Dangerous. Unsightly. Brick-and-mortar businesses complained of unfair competition, despite not operating late at night.

Governments found it politically easier to remove informal vendors than to preserve them.

This Was a Policy Choice

The decline of the pojangmacha was not inevitable.

It was the result of deliberate policy decisions about what kind of city Seoul wanted to be, and who it wanted visible within it.

This is not a story about nostalgia or food trends. It is a story about power, space, and whose lives are allowed to leave a mark on the city.

In Part 2, we will look at crackdowns, gentrification, media romanticization, and what replaced the soju tents after they were pushed out.