Korean Side Dishes: A Guide to Banchan

Kimchi (김치) is the banchan that defines Korean food. Fermented napa cabbage (or radish, or cucumber, or dozens of other vegetables) seasoned with gochugaru, garlic, ginger, and fish sauce, kimchi is simultaneously a side dish, a condiment, a cooking ingredient, and a national obsession. Every Korean family has its own recipe, and the debate over whose grandmother makes the best kimchi is as unresolvable as it is universal.

Kimchi appears at every meal, but its role extends beyond the table. Koreans eat kimchi with rice, wrap it in ssam, stir-fry it with pork, add it to jjigae, and mix it into fried rice. The fermentation process produces lactic acid bacteria, which is why kimchi tastes sour and tangy after a few weeks in the fridge. Fresh kimchi, called geotjeori, is crisp and mild. Aged kimchi, called mugeunji, is deeply sour and funkier than a cheese cave. Both are essential, and knowing when to use fresh versus aged kimchi is one of the first lessons in Korean cooking.

Gyeranmari (계란말이) is a Korean rolled omelette, and it is the banchan that every Korean child grows up eating. Eggs are beaten with salt, sometimes with scallions or carrots mixed in, then poured in thin layers into a rectangular pan and rolled up layer by layer until you have a dense, slightly sweet egg log that slices into neat rounds.

The technique looks simple but takes practice. The egg must set on the bottom before rolling, but not so much that it breaks when you fold it. The result is a banchan with a slightly bouncy texture and a clean, mild flavor that works as a counterpoint to the intensity of kimchi and spicy banchan. Gyeranmari appears in lunchboxes, at picnics, and on dinner tables, and it is one of the few banchan that children genuinely love. It also happens to be one of the fastest banchan to make, which is why it shows up on weeknight tables more often than any other egg dish in Korean cooking.

Pajeon (파전) is a scallion pancake, though calling it a pancake undersells what it actually is: a crispy, savory, slightly chewy disc of batter loaded with scallions and often seafood, pan-fried in enough oil to create a crackling crust that shatters when you bite into it. Pajeon is technically jeon (전), the Korean category of pan-fried dishes, and it straddles the line between banchan and main course.

Koreans eat pajeon when it rains, pairing it with soju in a combination so ingrained that the sound of rain on the roof is enough to make most Koreans crave a plate. The scallions are the star, laid across the batter in long green strips, and the best pajeon has a ratio of scallion to batter that leans heavily toward scallion. Haemul pajeon, with shrimp and squid mixed in, is the restaurant version. The home version is simpler, sometimes just scallions and batter, and it tastes better for the simplicity.

Kongnamul muchim (콩나물 무침) is seasoned bean sprouts, and it is one of the most common banchan in Korean home cooking. Soybean sprouts are blanched, drained, and tossed with sesame oil, salt, garlic, and sometimes a touch of gochugaru for heat. The result is a banchan that is light, slightly crunchy, and clean-tasting, a palate cleanser between bites of heavier dishes.

Kongnamul muchim takes about ten minutes to make, which is part of why it appears so often. The bean sprouts are cheap, available year-round, and forgiving to cook — overcooking makes them mushy, but a quick blanch and an ice bath keep them crisp. The non-spicy version is the standard, but some families add gochugaru for a kick. Kongnamul muchim is the banchan that sits quietly in the corner of the table, unnoticed until you realize you have been eating it with every other dish.

Sigeumchi namul (시금치나물) is seasoned spinach, and it belongs to the namul (나물) category of banchan, seasoned vegetables that form the backbone of a Korean table. Spinach is blanched, squeezed dry, and mixed with sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, and sesame seeds. The flavor is nutty and mild, the texture is tender without being mushy, and the green color brightens up a table that might otherwise be dominated by reds and browns.

Sigeumchi namul is not trying to be exciting. It is trying to be reliable, and it succeeds. The sesame oil gives it a richness that makes it satisfying on its own, and the soy sauce provides just enough salt to keep it from being bland. Like most namul, it is best eaten the day it is made, though it keeps in the fridge for a couple of days. It is the banchan that Korean mothers make when they want to add a green vegetable to the table without making a production of it.

Musaengchae (무생채) is spicy radish salad, and it is the banchan that bridges the gap between kimchi and fresh vegetables. Korean radish is julienned, then seasoned with gochugaru, vinegar, garlic, fish sauce, and sesame seeds. Unlike kimchi, musaengchae is not fermented. It is eaten fresh, the day it is made, when the radish is still crisp and the chili is bright.

The texture is what makes musaengchae special. The radish retains a snap that fermented versions lose, and the vinegar gives it a tang that balances the heat of the gochugaru. Musaengchae is often served alongside grilled meats, where its freshness cuts through the fat, and it is a common banchan at Korean BBQ restaurants. It is also one of the fastest banchan to prepare: julienne the radish, mix the seasoning, and eat. No cooking required.

Jangajji (장아찌) are Korean soy sauce pickles, and they represent the preservation side of banchan. Vegetables such as garlic, perilla leaves, cucumbers, eggplant, and chili peppers are pickled in a mixture of soy sauce, vinegar, and sugar, sometimes with water added to balance the salt. The result is a banchan that is salty, sweet, and tangy, with a texture that ranges from crisp (garlic) to silky (perilla leaves).

Jangajji is the banchan that lasts. Unlike fresh namul, which deteriorates after a day, jangajji keeps in the fridge for weeks, making it a staple for busy households. The soy sauce penetrates the vegetables slowly, and the flavor deepens over time. At Korean restaurants, jangajji often appears as part of the complimentary banchan spread, the small plate of pickled garlic or perilla leaves that sits at the edge of the table and gets refilled without anyone noticing who did the refilling.

Gamja jorim (감자조림) is braised potatoes, and it is the banchan that proves Korean food can be simple without being boring. Small potatoes are simmered in a mixture of soy sauce, sugar, garlic, and sesame oil until the liquid reduces to a glaze that coats each piece in a shiny, savory-sweet shell. The potatoes are tender inside, slightly caramelized outside, and the whole thing tastes like comfort food that happens to be a side dish.

Gamja jorim is a common banchan at Korean restaurants, particularly at Korean BBQ places, where the sweetness of the potatoes balances the richness of grilled meat. The potatoes are usually small enough to eat in one or two bites, and the best versions have a slight chewiness from the braising that sets them apart from simply boiled potatoes. It is the banchan that disappears first from the table, the one people reach for when they need a break from the intensity of kimchi and spicy dishes.

Dubu jorim (두부조림) is braised tofu, and it is the banchan that makes tofu interesting. Firm tofu is sliced into thick rectangles, pan-fried until golden on both sides, then braised in a mixture of soy sauce, garlic, scallions, and sometimes gochugaru. The tofu absorbs the braising liquid, turning from bland white blocks into savory, slightly chewy slabs that taste like they have been cooked for hours, even though the whole process takes about twenty minutes.

Dubu jorim is one of the most common banchan in Korean home cooking, partly because tofu is cheap and available everywhere, and partly because the braising technique is forgiving. The tofu does not fall apart the way soft tofu does, and the soy sauce glaze gives it enough flavor to stand on its own. At restaurants, dubu jorim often appears as part of the banchan spread, the neat rows of golden tofu squares that look too uniform to be homemade but somehow always are.

Myulchi bokkeum (멸치볶음) is stir-fried anchovies, and it is the banchan that delivers more nutrition per bite than almost anything else on the table. Dried anchovies are stir-fried with garlic, soy sauce, sugar, and sometimes gochugaru until they are crispy and caramelized, producing a banchan that is salty, sweet, and intensely savory. The anchovies are small enough to eat whole, bones and all, and the calcium from the bones makes this one of the most nutrient-dense banchan in Korean cooking.

Myulchi bokkeum is the banchan that Korean mothers insist on, the one children pretend not to like until they are old enough to appreciate what the anchovies bring to a meal. The flavor is strong — these are dried anchovies, not the fresh kind — and the texture is crispy in a way that makes them almost snack-like. At Korean restaurants, myulchi bokkeum is a standard part of the banchan spread, the small plate of golden-brown anchovies that sits next to the kimchi and disappears faster than anyone expected.