At Gulgune, a barbecue restaurant in Itaewon, the meat arrives on double-prong skewers, par-cooked over charcoal until just done. A server deftly slides each long strip of samgyeopsal – pork belly – onto a tilted grill pan set over a gas burner, the drippings falling into a vessel below. As the meat browns to golden, a trio of accompaniments sizzles at the pan's bottom: blanched bean sprouts, chopped ripe kimchi, and curls of green onions tossed in a sweet, spicy, and vinegary dressing. Cooked in the rendered fat, they cut perfectly through the meat's richness. For Koreans, samgyeopsal isn’t just a meal – it’s the heart of countless gatherings. The question “고기 먹을까?” (“Shall we go for some barbecue?”) almost always means pork belly is on the menu.

In Seoul, permanence is elusive. The city reinvents itself with a restless energy that makes each visit feel like a first encounter. Viral trends come and go. Culinary hotspots emerge and vanish. Even longtime residents find themselves pausing at street corners, momentarily disoriented by how completely their familiar haunts have transformed in a short span of months. Seoul's thirst for the next big thing is evident in neighborhoods like Seongsu-dong, often seen as a global epicenter for pop-ups, where new fashion and design concepts emerge year-round. Seoul’s food scene mirrors this constant evolution. Trends flash by, like tanghulu – glazed fruit on a stick that seemed to pop up everywhere overnight – or espresso bars, which briefly captured the city’s coffee obsession before fading from view.

The morning after a festive night brings familiar symptoms: a throbbing headache, heartburn, perhaps an upset stomach. As people reach for something to soothe their hangover, they take part in a shared experience that transcends borders and cultures, uniting humanity in the eternal quest for the perfect hangover remedy. Korea has its own iconic day-after-drinking cure: haejangguk, which literally translates to “hangover soup.” It’s a hot, hearty soup filled with meat and vegetables, served with rice. Korean drinkers often joke that the salty, steaming broth pairs perfectly with a shot of soju, leading to the familiar scene of someone drinking soju alongside haejangguk to cure their hangover – only to end up drinking more.