博客

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.

In the heart of Kochi’s historic Jew Town, where cobbled lanes echo with centuries of multicultural heritage, Thaha Ibrahim maintains an extraordinary cultural legacy. The 55-year-old Muslim embroidery artisan now operates what remains as the final Jewish embroidery shop in this southern Indian city—once known as the Queen of the Arabian Sea for its significance as a spice trade hub.

His establishment still bears the sign ‘Sarah Cohen’s Home,’ honoring the Jewish woman who became his mentor and surrogate mother. Their unconventional friendship defied religious and economic boundaries, spanning nearly four decades until Sarah’s death in 2019 at age 96. Thaha first began assisting in the shop in 2000, eventually taking full ownership according to Sarah’s final wishes.

The shop’s origins trace back to the early 1980s when Thaha, then a teenage school dropout selling postcards to tourists, encountered the Cohens by chance. Initially met with skepticism by Sarah, their relationship transformed when Thaha demonstrated natural talent for embroidery—a skill likely inherited from his tailor father. Under Sarah’s guidance, he mastered creating traditional Jewish items including kippahs (skullcaps), challah covers, and menorahs.

Jew Town itself tells a story of vanishing heritage. Once home to 2,500 Jews in the 18th century, the community has dwindled to a single remaining Jewish resident today. Jewish settlement in Kerala dates back 2,000 years during King Solomon’s reign, with later waves of Sephardic Jews arriving in 1492 fleeing Spanish persecution. These communities collectively became known as Cochin Jews, living under the protection of local rulers in what was historically a multicultural trading center.

The exodus accelerated after Israel’s establishment in 1948, with most families seeking better economic opportunities or marriage prospects abroad. Scholar Anna Zacharias notes that religious persecution was never a factor in multicultural Kochi, where Jews maintained their identity while integrating through speaking Malayalam and participating in local culture.

Thaha honors his promise to preserve Sarah’s legacy with profound respect for Jewish traditions. He closes the shop on Shabbat, lights the traditional Friday evening lamp despite being a practicing Muslim, and regularly visits Sarah’s grave at the Jewish cemetery. ‘To me, it’s not about religion but about humanity,’ he reflects—a testament to intercultural bonds that endure beyond religious divisions.