A Day in My Banchan Shop: What 35 Years of Mornings Looked Like

Illustration: the wholesale market, early every morning

For 35 years, I ran Hong’s Food, a Korean side dish shop in Bucheon. People often ask me what a day in a banchan shop looks like. The honest answer is that it starts early and ends on my feet. Here is an ordinary day, the way I lived it for most of my working life.

5:00 AM: The Day Begins

My day started at five in the morning, every day. Before customers came, there were more than 30 dishes to make.

Every morning I went to the wholesale market to buy vegetables. I never planned to buy for several days at once. Fresh ingredients bought that same morning made the difference between an ordinary dish and a good one, so I went back to the market every day.

Cooking with the Seasons

What I bought depended on the season. At the wholesale market, I always looked for the vegetables that were at their best at that time of year, and I built my menu around what the market offered, not the other way around.

I also had one firm rule about vegetables: I only used noji vegetables. Noji means vegetables grown outdoors, in open fields, not in vinyl greenhouses. Every vegetable in my shop came from the field.

Noji vegetables cost a little more. But I paid it gladly, because the taste is far fresher, richer, and deeper. Food made with greenhouse vegetables simply does not have that depth, and I was not willing to give it up.

Summer was the clearest example. In summer, cucumbers are crisp, full of water, and at their best. That is when oi-sobagi, cucumber kimchi stuffed with seasoned filling, sold so well that on some days I brought back a whole truckload of cucumbers from the market in a single day.

Illustration: a truckload of summer cucumbers for oi-sobagi

Napa cabbage was the opposite. Cabbage geotjeori was a popular dish all year round, so cabbage was the one thing I bought every single day, no matter the season.

The First Dish: Gyeran-mari

The first thing I made each morning was gyeran-mari, the rolled omelet.

It takes the longest, usually more than an hour. The heat has to stay very low, and the egg has to cook slowly, layer by layer. If you hurry, the outside burns and the inside is not set. And there is one more secret: the omelet has to cool before you slice it. If you cut it while it is hot, the layers fall apart. Once it has cooled, the slices come out clean and pretty.

That is why I started with it. It needs time, and the cooling time works in your favor while you make everything else.

Illustration: gyeran-mari, slowly, over low heat

Kimchi: Every Day and Twice a Week

Kimchi was a rhythm of its own. Every single day I made napa cabbage geotjeori. Geotjeori is fresh kimchi: the cabbage is lightly seasoned and eaten right away, without fermenting. It tastes crisp and bright, very different from the deeper, sour flavor of kimchi that has been aged. It was always a popular item, which is why fresh cabbage was part of my daily shopping.

The other kimchis, such as radish kimchi and the rest, I made once or twice a week. In summer, oi-sobagi joined the list and sold out quickly.

9:00 AM: Opening the Counter

At nine o’clock I started selling.

The busiest hours were lunch and dinner, around 12 noon and 6 in the evening. Evenings were when office workers and working mothers came by on their way home.

The Quiet Hours: Soups and Stews

The slow hours were from two to six in the afternoon. That was when I prepared the soups and stews.

I did it then because of the evening. Many people on their way home from work bought soup or stew along with their side dishes. The ones they asked for most were:

• Sundubu-jjigae (soft tofu stew)
• Miyeok-guk (seaweed soup)
• Doenjang-guk (soybean paste soup)
• Kimchi-jjigae (kimchi stew)

A hot soup or stew turns a few side dishes and rice into a real dinner. For a tired person coming home late, that was exactly what they needed.

The Hardest Part

People sometimes ask what was hardest. It was not any one dish. It was standing. I stood on my feet while I cooked, all day, for years.

Closing at 8:00 PM

The shop closed at eight. There was almost never any food left. What remained, I shared with the people around me.

Then I went home, ate dinner, and took a short walk. Before bed, I wrote a list of the vegetables I needed to buy the next morning. Then at five, it started again.

Illustration: closing time, almost nothing left

One Rule I Never Broke

I always cooked myself. My daughter helped with selling and packing, but the cooking stayed in my own hands. When the cook changes, the taste changes. My customers came back because the food tasted the same as yesterday, and the day before that. I could only promise that if my own hands made it.

What This Taught Me

Banchan looks simple on the table. But behind every small dish is an early morning, fresh ingredients, patience (a rolled omelet that cools before it’s cut), and the same hands making it every day.

If you have a question about any dish I made, leave a comment. I would be happy to answer it.