There was an interesting article today in the Chosun Ilbo (영어 링크)with some food for thought by Andrew Salmon:

From ships to chips, Korea is an export Olympian, but the hottest product may be local grub. In a marketing drive, Seoul reportedly aims to massively expand overseas Korean restaurants and food exports. Tactics include approving standardized Korean restaurants overseas, opening Korean culinary schools abroad and offering loans for restaurateurs to establish overseas.

Problem: Absent increased demand (popularity) increasing supply (the above) is pointless.

And is exporting Korean foodstuffs viable? As local consumers know, agriculture here is disastrous, food prices way north of international norms (if exported, logistics expenses would further increase costs.) Markets exist for specialized produce (e.g. ginseng) but why would an overseas chef buy Korean garlic for his kimchi rather than local produce? (Want it ready-made? Buy Chinese: Korea suffered a kimchi deficit of US$77 million between 2004-2007.) Moreover, “state-approved” restaurants are pointless: Consumers rely on media, not governments, for recommendations.

Given this, a smarter strategy may be to publicize the delights of Korean cuisine rather than promote produce exports.

Research must be the start point. What Korean foods do overseas diners enjoy? What don’t they enjoy? Only then can a campaign begin.

Food/lifestyle reporters can be invited on Korean culinary tours, and sent ingredients and recipes. Key influencers — cookbook writers and celebrity chefs can be approached to endorse Korean recipes on shows and in print. Picture Anthony Bourdain consuming raw octopus, Jamie Oliver promoting doenjang for school lunches or Nigella Lawson’s fine bosom dangling over a pajeon.

Ultimately, Korea must birth its own star chef and/or cookbook writer. Not some boring old fart waffling reverentially about traditional cuisine; not some gag-show buffoon; but someone who knows food, has character and can present compellingly. Due to language, he/she may be Korean-American. The show needs international airtime. Koreans have sold film and soap opera globally, so the talent is here to sell to Discovery or National Geographic.

What are the brand values and niche products of Korean cuisine?

Not healthiness. Today’s dishes are so overloaded with spice, salt and flavor enhancer, Koreans suffer some of the world’s highest stomach and intestinal cancer rates. While Korean cuisine does not spawn the obesity of American diets, emphasizing alleged healthy properties is disingenuous.

Let’s kill another shibboleth: Kimchi should not be the flagship. Though iconic, it is neither recipe, dish nor standalone product: It is a condiment. India is famed for curries – not chutneys; Germany for sausages — not sauerkraut. Moreover, kimchi is an acquired taste and smells powerfully, making it unacceptable in many foreign refrigerators, kitchens and restaurants.

Korean cuisine’s differentiated merits must be branded: Strong flavors, idiosyncratic seasonings, multiple side dishes, bright colors, convivial and informal dining manners. These are pluses, as Japan already occupies the formal “high-end” Asian food niche. Korean “comfort food” perfectly fits the mid-end market.

Italian, Chinese and Japanese cuisines were popularized via a limited range of dishes. Absent research for Korean, I suggest sutbul. Communal tabletop cooking is an experience; fondue and hotpot prove it is marketable. Moreover, everyone loves barbeque: It is the Stone Age basis of cooking. It offers cross-sell opportunities (stews, pindaetteok, etc, along with mains) and fusion possibilities (cheese and doenjang; yogurt-thickened stews, etc). This is desirable, as cuisines that globalize mutate: chopsuey is alien to Chinese tables; spaghetti & meatballs to Italian. Once mass market popularity is won, diners seek the original.

Korean cuisine’s idiosyncrasies, fieriness and conviviality reflect its creators. Can it be successfully promoted? I watch developments with interest.

Fatman agrees with the main point entirely:  creating supply before there is a demand is silly.  Also, the Korean government is going to have to learn that they cannot control the manner in which Korean food is adopted outside these shores.  There’s no way to compel people to understand and eat Korean cuisine in a particular way.  People will figure out what they like and adapt it to change their palate.

That said, we think that there’s no reason why some of the more distinctive foods like kimchi can’t become popular overseas.  The idea of raw fish on vinegared rice with grated horseradish didn’t appeal to a lot of westerners when sushi first started showing up, now did it?  Today’s exotica is tomorrow’s surprise hit and next year’s staple food.  The most popular condiment in the US today isn’t ketchup, but salsa.

No matter what country you go to, food can be laden with preservatives and artificial ingredients or made with farm-fresh organics. In the meantime, Korean food puts an emphasis on vegetables and non-animal proteins. It is generally low in fat, with lots of things we know are good for us to eat.  When Korean food gets good press internationally, it is often in conjunction with the potential benefits for our bodies.The health aspect can and should continue as a major reason for people to adopt Korean foods as part of their lifestyle – even when it’s not always true. Eat as Fatman says, not as Fatman does.

Korean food has already shown up on cooking shows overseas.   Celebrity Chef Bobby Flay devoted an entire episode of Boy Meets Grill years ago (Fatman is still scratching our head wondering how he came to believe that mint was a common ingredient in Korean cooking, but oh well.)  All the major travel/food shows have been here, but they remain more focused on the “Oh my God!  Can you believe they eat that?!?” niche foods like dog meat and live octopus than the real foods that people eat as part of their everyday diets.

It hasn’t helped that much.

In Fatman’s opinion, the real problem is a tendency to exoticize Korean food.  There’s plenty of food that’s vaguely familiar no matter what your food tradition.  Now, we don’t mean running around saying “gimbap is the Korean sushi” (just like people should stop trying to convince tourists that Jeju-do is just like Hawaii – ’cause it ain’t!) since it only encourages first-time eaters to be confused and disappointed.   It does mean encouraging people to find the cuisine as a twist on the familiar, and treating the truly unfamiliar as natural accompanyments.  The Korean side of the equation needs to stop thinking that “authenticity” (whatever that means . . .) can be enforced, and the rest of the people promoting need to give the cuisine some respect by not acting like eating it is some act of spectacular bravery. Branding kimchi and dwenjang as some kind of stinky untouchables overseas is silly.

In the end though, the most important thing everyone can do to help Korean food along is to stop worrying about it.  All the great advances in popularity have been incidental and spontaneous.  Daejanggeum and the Kogi truck have done more to spread Korean food than any celebrity chef, travel special host, or government agency ever could.  Sit back, relax, and chow down on some cheonggukjang.