FatManSeoul

If you’re really craving the savory delights of the magical chicken, rice, and ginseng soup known as samgyetang, there’s one place in Seoul that rises above all the others: 토속촌삼계탕 (Tosokchon Samgyetang.) This chicken-slinging sanctuary just might be one of the most famous restaurants in all of Seoul, partronized by . . . well, just about everybody. From former president Roh Moo-hyun to the first-time tourist, seemingly everybody knows and loves this joint enough to line up for ages just to get a perfect bowl of chicken.
Housed inside a monstrously big hanok, Tosokchon still manages to stay so busy that the multitude of dining rooms are always filled to capacity and the lines to dine stretch out the door and around the block. Don’t show up at lunch time and expect to be in and out in a flash – this place is popular enough that waits of half an hour or more aren’t uncommon. Don’t even think of showing up here on any of the sambok (삼복: the three hottest days of summer by the traditional Korean lunar calendar reckoning) because it will just be you and every other living creature in Korea needing to dig into the heat-giving ginseng-laced chicken. Once you wind your way into the restaurant, wait staff will hustle you through the central corridor to one of the many dining rooms so you can stumble over the dozens of shoes piled up by the lucky guests who are already seated inside.

Once you’ve been seated, the wait staff will look at you expectantly and ask how many. Not, “What do you want?” but “How many do you want?” because there’s really only one thing to order (a good example of Fatman’s Rule of Fine Korean Dining). There isn’t even a posted menu; Would you like samgyetang, samgyetang, or samgyetang? Ok, technically this isn’t correct – they also have a fine rotisserie chicken and some pretty wonderful pajeon. But let’s be honest: You are here for the samgyetang!
And what a glorious samgyetang it is! As soon as you make it into the sanctified inner dining rooms, servers appear with gigantic pots of ggakdugi (깍두기: cubed radish kimchi) and a splendidly mellow and smooth home style baechu kimchi for you to help yourself from.
Minutes later they’ll be back bearing gigantic stoneware pots containing the single most luxurious chicken soup you will ever have pleasure to eat. Most places serve you a whole spring chicken boiled so that its own juices are what infuse the broth. Here they’ve gone so completely beyond that spare preparation that it’s almost an entirely different experience of soup. Instead of merely being cooked in a light broth, the chicken is simmered in a stock that has been accruing flavors not just of the chicken but of grains and herbs for hours and hours. The soup stock is completely opaque with flavor, and takes on the silken, luxurious qualities of a tonkatsu ramen broth. It’s so creamy and redolent of meat that it’s hard to believe that mere poultry produced this level of opulence.

The bird itself is small and exquisitely fresh, stuffed with sweet rice, ginseng, chestnut (another unusual feature – they leave the nut in the shell, merely slicing it in half so the husk adds a very subtle earthy quality), and daechu (대추: Korean jujube.) The elaborate garnish includes spring onion, black sesame seeds, pepitas, sunflower seeds, and pine nuts add both a bit of bracing crispness and astringency along with a smooth nutty mellowness.

All the usual accouterments are here for your flavoring pleasure. Garlic, ssamjang, salt, and pepper are laid out alongside the bone bucket and personal dishes. The denouement of the meal is a tiny cup of pale ginseng soju to pack in as much of the health-giving properties of the beloved root as possible.

A single serving of samgyetang is an example of abundance that is hard to beat so if you’ve a smaller appetite, you might want to share with a similarly small-stomached friend. One bowl is 13,000 won, while roast chickens cost 12,000 and pajeon 15,000. There’s a very limited drink menu of beer and traditional alcohol, but the soju at the end is gratis.

To get to Tosokchon, go to Gyeongbukgung Station (경복궁역) and go out exit one (toward Hyoja-dong/효자동.) The restaurant is just off on the right hand side, about a hundred meters past the exit. Just look for the insanely long line of people waiting to get their chicken fix . . .

If you’re not up for a trip out, you can always try making Channiya’s version at home. We don’t recommend using these birds, though.