In a London apartment filled with the pungent aroma of fermentation, Korean-American chef Judy Joo guides a group of food writers through the ancient art of kimchi-making. The scene represents more than just a cooking class—it symbolizes Korean cuisine’s remarkable journey into the British mainstream.
Participants don plastic gloves to massage vibrant red paste into cabbage wedges, learning techniques passed down through generations like culinary heirlooms. The session, connected to Ocado’s new Korean food aisle, reflects a broader cultural shift occurring across the United Kingdom.
Korean food’s arrival in Britain has been both gradual and deliberate. Unlike other Asian cuisines that initially faced cultural confusion—often mistaken for variations of Chinese food—Korean gastronomy has carved its own distinct identity. The transformation began accelerating after South Korea’s 2009 “Global Hansik” campaign, which invested government resources in international restaurant promotion and chef training.
The current Korean culinary wave rides alongside the broader Hallyu cultural movement. Netflix’s popular competition show “Culinary Class Wars” returns for its second season after dominating global non-English charts, while food-centered dramas showcase innovative fusion dishes to international audiences.
Supermarket metrics confirm the trend: Waitrose reports a 60% year-on-year increase in “Korean BBQ” searches and a 70% sales surge for gochujang paste. Kimchi ranks among the retailer’s fastest-growing international products.
Nutritionist Emer Lowry explains the scientific appeal: “Fermented foods like kimchi have entered mainstream consciousness not just for their complex flavors, but for demonstrated benefits including improved digestion and healthier gut microbiomes.”
Social media analytics reveal deepening engagement. According to food giant CJ’s Bibigo division, UK TikTok posts mentioning Korean food have surged from under 10,000 in 2023 to over 17,000 in 2025, indicating organic, curiosity-driven interest.
In North London’s Cálong restaurant, Chef Joo Won represents the next evolution: adapting traditional Korean techniques to British ingredients. His culinary philosophy embraces thoughtful adaptation rather than rigid authenticity. “If an ingredient doesn’t suit Korean seasoning,” he notes, “there’s no need to force gochujang onto it.”
Beyond restaurants, grassroots movements flourish. Yoonsun Chang’s LoKoLi supper clubs offer intimate experiences centered on jeong (Korean hospitality) and inyeon (meaningful connections formed at the table). Her guests increasingly seek the domestic aspects of Korean culture—table settings, everyday dishes, and their stories—rather than just popular music and dramas.
The cultural impact becomes evident in unexpected places. Chang observes that pubs and restaurants now use authentic kimchi instead of generic pickles in their “kimchi burgers,” indicating genuine integration rather than superficial appropriation.
For British YouTubers Armand and Max, exposure to Korean food through the “Korean Englishman” channel fundamentally changed their eating habits. “The flavor profiles were completely different from anything we’d experienced,” Max recalls. “Fermented cabbage, kimchi—we’d never had anything like it.”
Back in Judy Joo’s kitchen, as cabbages transform into future fermented delicacies, participants leave with more than just jars of kimchi—they carry pieces of a cultural tradition that has found a new home in British culinary landscape. While Korean food hasn’t replaced traditional British takeaways, it has undoubtedly secured its place in the nation’s diverse gastronomic identity.