Soju & Gochu: Korean Remedy for the Common Cold?

There is hardly a Korean food without a culturally assigned medicinal benefit. Even soju has its benefits. Not only is soju a popular remedy for hard days at work, dramatic relationships, and dull evenings, it is rumored to cure or at least alleviate symptoms of the common cold. 

For years whenever I was sick, my Korean friends, acquaintances, coworkers and even bosses jocularly recommended a shot of soju mixed with gochu (고추) aka: Korean hot pepper. It sounds like a cheap excuse to get drunk or a popular joke. Yet I have heard it so many times I feel that if Mary Poppins was born a Korean she would have sung, "a spoon full of gochu will help the soju go down." Lately, having been struck with a particularly debilitating cold, and more than a little desperate to regain my health because of a busy work schedule, I decided I needed some Korean Poppins magic, and put the soju and gochu cocktail to the test.

Typically, Chamisul Soju, is the standard Korean panacea, but all that I had in the fridge was a bottle of Kang Soju, a very small soju brand that I found at the Nonsan Strawberry Festival this year. If the medicinal power of this home remedy is rated in proof, then Kang Soju was drawn from the Fountain of Youth. At 50 percent alcohol by volume, 100ml of the 200 ml bottle is pure alcohol. In comparison, Chamisul Original has around 20 percent alcohol. Thus, if this remedy is any good, I should not only be cured but boosted into a higher plane of existence. Despite fears I will reach that higher plane sick and be even sicker the following morning, I poured the shot and sprinkled some hot pepper powder in the glass. (I didn't have any fresh peppers). I wasn't taking any drugs to manage my symptoms, so I had no qualms about taking the shot except what my ultra health-conscious girl-friend might think about me drinking alcohol while sick.

100 proof alcohol mixed with Korean hot pepper produces one serious burn going down, one intense enough to make me forget how crappy I felt otherwise and focus for those long seconds on the anti-sick war being waged in my throat. Like any battlefield you can't expect the terrain to be untouched by destruction. And this almost goes without saying when pouring this Korean napalm for the common-cold. 

Oddly enough, I felt surprisingly good after the burning passed. The alcohol that evaporated in the back of my throat went up into my sinuses and nasal passages, releasing congestion and untickling my nose as it rose. Sadly, the effect didn't last long. Perhaps ten or 15 minutes later, the viral army of the common cold, battered but not defeated, started to march back into my head to reinstate my former symptoms. I considered successive shots, but didn't want to employ a scorched earth policy in my body.

Three days later and on the mend, it would be a dubious claim that the one shot set me on a course for health. Nevertheless, that drink really did help reduce my symptoms. In that way it is like an intense, Korean version of a hot toddy, the West's traditional, spiced, alcoholic palliative. Taken successively over time, soju and gochu will likely hold cold symptoms at bay until your mouth melts and your liver explodes. But perhaps there is a means for it to take after the gentler way of the hot toddy. Next time, I'm just going to add honey and ginger to my green tea and spike it with soju. That'll do.


(Note: I am not a medical professional, and this article is for entertainment. It is not intended to give serious medical advice. Anyone suffering from a cold or related illness should consult their doctor about the best treatment for them.)

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Blog: Are Mirang Oats Gluten Free?

Oatmeal is hard to find in Korea. Koreans have their own hot cereal. It's a rice mush called jook (죽). So when I saw oatmeal at Costco, I thought it would be perfect for my new gluten free diet. Oats, after all, don't contain the same kind of gluten as wheat, but then Mayo Clinic had to spoil everything.

"Certain grains, such as oats, can be contaminated with wheat during growing and processing stages of production. For this reason, doctors and dietitians generally recommend avoiding oats unless they are specifically labeled gluten-free." - Mayo Clinic, 2011

Well, that's terrific. Time to read the whole box looking for "gluten-free."

Many items at Korean Costoco stores are American brands. These oats, though, are not. They were made by Mirang (미이랑), a Korean company. So the box is completely covered with Korean except for the product title, "Oatmeal." It took me seven and a half minutes to scan the box top to bottom and back to front looking for "글루텐 프리" or something similar, but there wasn't a sign of it.

Clearly this doesn't mean these oats are gluten free. Yet one heartening fact is that the oats were grown in Korea. By and far, Korea grows considerably more rice than wheat. A report by the International Grain Council showed Korea's 2011-12 rice production at 4.3 million tones. In comparison, the country produced a mere 51,000 tones of wheat the same year. While the government is pushing to achieve the production goal of 200,000 tones of wheat by 2015, this is still small in comparison to the amount of rice produced. As a result, I'm not terribly worried about it being cross contaminated with wheat gluten.
Moreover, I have yet to be convinced that gluten free labels are commonly used in Korea. Since Koreans generally do not have gluten related health issues, there is no gluten free market among mainstream Koreans. Thus, if the oats are truly gluten free the company has no incentive to label it.

Unfortunately, a lack of conclusive information doesn't make these oats any more positively gluten free. For all I know there could be a central grain processing super-conglomerate that processes all kinds of grain on the same machinery, polluting everything with wheat gluten. So if I genuinely had a problem with gluten and it excluded avenin, an oat protein that a small percentage of celiac patients are sensitive to, I should contact Mirang to be certain their oats are gluten free. If I was as lazy I could just eat them and then check how my stomach feels, but I can't do that. My tummy likes gluten. And depending on how badly my system would react if I did have a problem, that second alternative might not be feasible.

Time to call Mirang! ...as soon as I can get a translator.

But in the meantime, I'm still going to eat those oats.

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Blog: Is This Gluten Free?

It has been three weeks since I started eating gluten free. So far I've eliminated all the obvious sources of gluten in my diet. You know, all those delicious things at the bottom of the food pyramid: pasta, bread, crackers, and heavenly things like cinnamon buns. But what about those sneaky foods that aren't at the bottom of the food pyramid?

For obvious reasons, trying to determine if a food is gluten free in Korea is not simple if you can't understand Korean. You can find English food labels on imported foods. However, even then many foods are processed on shared equipment with gluten products or they include gluten as an additive or there are other ingredients mixed in that contain gluten. And this doesn't make reading labels for gluten any easier. For instance, I recently purchased some salami and prosciutto at Costco. A lot of their inventory is just the exact same thing that you find at an American Costco but with a Korean nutrition information sticker slapped on the back, so virtually everything on the packaging is in English. Looking at the ingredients, the salami states in tiny print at the bottom of the English nutrition label that it is indeed, "gluten free." The prosciutto, however, does not. But neither meat mentions any ingredients that would even hint at gluten. They are both produced by the same company, Daniele Foods in Rhode Island, and they have identical ingredients but for one thing — the prosciutto has garlic. Last time I knew, garlic was naturally gluten free. The only other option would be the unspecified "spices" that both meats contain. Presumably, the proscutto's spices include gluten — terrific. But I don't know for sure, and being a good, cheap Yankee who doesn't waste food and isn't allergic to gluten, I'm still going to eat it.

This process is annoying enough in English. Now, try standing in the refridgerated isle at Lotte Mart with your smart phone in one hand and a sausage in the other trying to translate the ingredient label. Even if you study Korean, without the aid of a fluent native, this is a chore and a half. I can read and write well enough, but my vocabulary is deplorable, and like any language, Korean words have multiple meanings, slang uses and abbreviations unknown to the best translation apps. And I certainly don't want to stand around in the isle for five minutes per label, translating everything I want to eat. I have far better things to do with my time, like walk home and eat.

Western stickers, though, at least have "gluten free" labels to help. Korean foods, on the other hand, from what I have seen, do not. "Gluten free" in Korean is "글루텐 프리." It is basically a Korean spelling that sounds like one of my students trying to pronounce English. I've lived in Korea for nearly four years, and in that time I have never seen those words on Korean packaging. It can be argued that, in not needing to eat gluten free, I just never looked for it. This is true. However, when I first started talking to my Korean friends about eating gluten free they did not know what it was. Plus, for dietary and genetic reasons Koreans rarely develop gluten related health issues. As a result, they have no need to label things "gluten free." The gluten free diet is largely a Western trend. However, that doesn't mean I'm going to stop looking for 글루텐 프리. I could be wrong. We'll see.

Given these difficulties, as I enter this diet I'm a bit paranoid. Many people who are sensitive to gluten do not need to worry about things like cross contamination. Others, who are affected more severely by gluten, really have to watch out. I have heard about people who are so sensitive that they can't even kiss someone who has eaten wheat. A casual gluten-free diet is easy enough in Korea. One expat teacher I interviewed, Kelsey Riordan, does not have celiac disease but needs to avoid eating gluten for other health reasons, and she manages just fine by eating like a Korean minus wheat noodles and dumplings. But let's suppose that I took on the role of that person who can't even kiss bready lips without risking stomach aches or worse. Just what can I eat? If the smallest amount of gluten is harmful to me am I munching my way across a minefield of glutenated doom? With this mindset, and mindful of the fact that many processed foods contain gluten, a number of foods from my daily life are making me think twice about whether they are gluten free or not.

- Gummy vitamins. A bunch of nutrients are sourced from different places and compressed in a squishy, fruit-flavored teddy-bear-shaped substrate. Can you get more processed than a muli-vitamin?

- Soy. Soy is everywhere in Korean cuisine. It is an essential part of so many soups, stews, sauces, side dishes, and main courses. In additon to rice and red pepper, Korean food wouldn't be Korean without soy. Soy itself doesn't have gluten. It only gains it through processing. So do Korean soy processing plants also process wheat on the same equipment?

- Rice bread. Rice bread is fairly popular in Korea. Though, having grown up on wheat, I was never much impressed with rice breads. Rice breads tend to be bland and dry and simply do not have the same texture and bounce of wheat bread. There are some exceptions, but nothing a Frenchman would feel uncomfortable tossing in the bin. But are they gluten free? Given the amount that raw ingredients are processed and rice bread's marginal attempt at being decent bread, who is to say those breads don't have gluten in them? They need all the help they can get.

- Bubble tea. My girlfriend and I have been on a big bubble tea kick lately. Bubble tea pearls are made from tapioca, but is that all that is in there?

- Packaged nuts. I bought a large bag of mixed nuts to munch on at school. It was meant to save money spent daily on chips and to reduce the calories collected daily above my belt. At the same time, it's a snack with enough energy to push me through six hours of playing with elementary and middle-school kids. There is more to those nuts, and lots of nuts mixes in Korea, than just nuts. These ones in particular have an unadvertised dusting of mystery dusty dust on them. It's tasty, but is it gluten free?

- Coffee. Right now I'm drinking a vanilla latte. Straight coffee is fine. My brother, a celiac suffering Starbucks barista extraordinaire, lives on coffee. But are mixed coffee drinks okay?

- Street food. Korea has terrific street food. Some, like tuigim (튀김 - deep fried food), are obviously not gluten free. However, others like tteok-bokki (떡볶이 - chewy, penne pasta sized rice cakes in spicy sauce) are not so clear. Rice cake itself may be gluten free, but what if the rice was cross-contaminated by wheat in processing? Plus, I have no idea what is in the sauce besides red pepper.

- Chocolate and candies. This is another one of those cases where the primary ingredient is naturally gluten free, but you don't know if that ingredient was cross contaminated, or if gluten or a gluten containing ingredient was added into the mix at some point.

- Drinks. Basically my entire diet is geared around keeping me energized enough to put on the equivalent of a lively and interactive Ted Talk with overworked children during the hours when, in America, kids are eating dinner, playing, or finishing their homework. Water just doesn't cut it. Normally I brew my own black or green tea at home and bring it to class honey-sweetened. There is nothing unusual about my tea except sometimes some bergamot, but that's gluten free. Sometimes, however, I forget to brew my tea or my energies are such that I need a big boost that day, and I buy a Cola or more often a Gatorade or a Nature Tea. Are these gluten free? And what about that glass of OJ in the morning? Could that have gluten in it too? Is it purely orange juice?

- Cheese. When I started eating gluten free the first food that came to mind was cheese. Real cheese, which is most likely gluten free, is depressingly expensive in Korea. Three cheese omelettes worth of cheddar will set you back ₩8,000. This is around $7.50. Affordable cheese is out there, but it is so processed that at least one brand boasts of containing a jaw dropping 83.5 percent "natural" cheese. How much of that remaining percent may be gluten? (Or, for that matter, food?)

- Beer and soju. I don't drink as much as I used to, so this is less of an issue for me. But living in a country that, as a nation, drinks enough every day to crown Jinro soju as the most consumed alcohol in the world, drinking now and then is hard to avoid. Beer is clearly not gluten free. However, in Korea, where the local mass produced beers taste more like a certain human excretion than even American industrial beers, it is often claimed that Korean beer is disgusting because it is made with rice. Is it really? And is soju, the rice spirit of choice, pure enough to be free of any cross contaminants?

- Is communion gluten free? I heard it wasn't. But I also heard about a group of nuns somewhere in the US that make a 99.9% gluten free wafer. But that is in the USA. This is Korea. Is there a similar option here? Can you just take the wine instead? And would the church be kind enough to let you take the first sip or use a different challace to prevent cross-contamination?
I have a lot of translating and research to do.

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Cheongdoongoli: Land of the Magical Duck

Walking into Cheongdoongoli (청둥오리) is like stepping into Ron Weasley's home. As you walk into the restaurant, you are greeted by a wonderfully cozy, toasty, woodsy odor. It comes from the cast-iron stove that heats the main dining area. Windowed along three walls, the afternoon sun lays sheets of gold across the room, casting shadows among strange herbs drying from the ceiling, and jars upon jars of mysterious, brewing vegetation. From the curious display of black brews, odd roots, and wonderous herbs — including giant shelf mushrooms and stacks of pumpkins — one might think that the owner of the restaurant was aiming to replace Severus Snape as the potions master at Hogwarts. Bizarre herbal teas, however, are not the focus of this restaurant. They sell duck and not just any duck. With all the positions mastery stuff hanging about, they serve a magical meat — the meat of ducks raised on those strange herbs. It is the kind of Korean food that the natives claim is good for your health and for once might actually be correct about it.
The family that owns Cheongdoongoli, the Kims, also owns a duck farm in Anseong. There these ducks are raised on the same herbs hanging around the dining room. Little, paper labels accompany the obscure plants, identifying them for Koreans but stumping any direct translation by organic or technological means. Whatever they are, though, they produce a tasty meat. Duck meat typically has a distinct odor and taste that my friend and guide, Junsik Park, doesn't care for. However,

Cheongdoongoli's duck is an exception. We ordered a half and half plate: one half los (로스), unseasoned duck, and one half jumulleok los (주물럭 로스), hot sauce duck. Both meats have a mild flavor and neither has the ducky smell that some, like Junsik, find so unpleasant. Moreover, the duck meat is less greasy than normal duck.

While the duck is splendid on its own, the wide array of banchan (반찬), Korean side dishes, truly make the meat stand out. Every bowl, dish and tiny plate of fresh, sauced, seasoned, fermented and pickled veggies perfectly balance each other and complement the meat. It is quite an astonishing feat given the powerful and subtle flavors on the table: fresh, floral, green and sweet amid pungent, spicy and vinegary. And all of these act unobtrusively upon a sweet meat.


Even in themselves the banchan are exceptional. Dishes like doenjjang paste and pickled parilla leaves are common side dishes in Korea; but the difference between the average banchan around your officetel and the banchan at Cheongdoongoli is the difference between a cup of Maxwell House and a cup of Starbuck's Komodo Dragon Blend.
"Everything is perfect but one thing," said Junsik as he pined for the Korean man's perfect accompaniment to everything — soju.

Ultimately we did not buy any soju because Junsik had a student to tutor that evening, but we
were treated by the owner to one of the potions brewing under the windows. Initially described as, "enzyme tea," a dusky red drink served at room temperature, Junsik, after a chat with the owner, described it as a mix of apples, grapes, "lots of vegetables, and things that taste bad but are good for my health."

Meals at Cheongdoongoli run around ₩40,000 but can serve two very hungry men on the path to obesity or four people of moderate appetite. Cheongdoongoli, which is open from 10 am to 10 pm, is located in Wongok-Myeon in Pyeongtaek behind Seoul Rehabilitation Medical Clinic just off the central intersection. Heading into the intersection from downtown Pyeongtaek you need to make a hard left turn onto an access road that runs behind the clinic. Alternatively, one can get there from AK Plaza/Pyeongtaek Station (펴택역) by taking the 8 or 8-2 bus to Wongokipgusamgeoli (원곡입구삼거리).

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