The Day I Ordered One Meal and Got 8 Side Dishes and Panicked


I moved to Seoul. Hungry. Went to a restaurant.


Saw “lunch set” on the menu. 9,000 won. Cheap. Ordered it.


The lady brought rice. And soup. I thought “Okay. Meal.”


Then she came back. With a plate. Then another plate. Then another.


By plate 5 I started sweating. By plate 8 I wanted to cry.


It was just me. One guy. One bowl of rice. And 8 tiny plates surrounding me like I was a king.


I ate one bite of each. I was full. The rice was still 80% there.


I paid. Left. Felt like I failed at eating. The rice judged me.


혼밥을 위한 한국식 밥상, 흰밥·국·반찬 5가지, 나무 젓가락과 숟가락, 따뜻한 자연광


I Tried to Eat the Red Stuff and My Mouth Caught Fire


Every meal. Every single meal. There’s red stuff.


Kimchi, I learned later. It’s on the table. Always. Like salt. But angry.


First time, I took a big bite. To be polite.


My mouth said “no.” My nose said “why.” My eyes said “we’re leaving.”


I drank water. It did nothing. I drank the soup. It was also spicy. Betrayed by soup.


The old lady next to me was eating it like it was apple slices. Not a single tear.


Now I take tiny bites. Like, ant-sized. I respect the red stuff. The red stuff does not respect me.


한국 식당에서 백반 정식 — 밥, 된장찌개, 반찬 3가지 — 을 여유롭게 먹고 있는 직장인, 밝은 점심 풍경

I Got Soup With Every Meal and Didn’t Understand Why


Breakfast: soup.
Lunch: soup.
Dinner: soup.


I thought “Why is soup everywhere?”


At home, soup is for when you’re sick. Or it’s winter.


Here, it’s Tuesday. 90 degrees outside. Still soup. Hot soup.


I asked my coworker. He said “Soup is good.”


That’s it. That’s the explanation. “Good.”


So now I eat hot soup in summer. While sweating. Because it’s “good.”


I don’t question the soup anymore. The soup wins. Always.


점심시간 한국 길거리 음식 노점, 떡꼬치와 떡볶이 냄비를 정리하는 상인, 줄 서는 손님들, 활기찬 장면

I Ate at My Desk and Felt Like a Criminal

I was busy. Bought lunch. Brought it to my desk.


Opened it. Rice. Some meat. One sad side dish in a plastic box.


My coworker walked by. Stopped. Stared at my desk.


He said “You eat… here?”


I said “Yes?”


He looked at me like I was eating a shoe.


He said “Lunch is 12 to 1. We go down. Together.”


Next day, 12 PM. Everyone stood up. At the same time. Like a military drill.


We went downstairs. To a restaurant. Got rice. Soup. 8 side dishes.


We ate. Slowly. Talked. For 50 minutes.


I understood. Lunch is not food. Lunch is an event.


Now I don’t eat at my desk. I’m too scared. My coworkers might arrest me.

Summary

I thought Korean food was just BBQ.


Turns out it’s 8 side dishes when you order one thing. Red stuff that burns your mouth. Hot soup in summer. And you’re not allowed to eat alone at your desk.


📌 Things I Noticed


  • You can’t win against the side dishes: There are too many. You will leave food. Accept it. The rice will judge you.
  • The red stuff is mandatory: It’s at every meal. Make peace with it. Or keep crying. Your choice.
  • If you’re new: Don’t eat at your desk. You’ll get stared at. Lunch is a group project. And there will be soup. Always soup.

This is just what happened to me. I don’t know why the food is like this. I’m not a chef. Don’t ask me for recipes. I once got scared of 8 tiny plates and a bowl of soup.

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👉 [Next in this series]:  The Day I Realized My Legs Hurt Because I Live in Seoul

👉 [Previously in this series]:  The Morning I Went to a Park at 6AM and Everyone Was Already Awake

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