As a K-drama fan, this was more than a fangirling experience and BTS Pilgrimage. It was a tour with cultural and historical relevance. With each meal carefully curated by our guide, I finally experienced the flavors I had only seen through a screen. Sure, I’ve had Korean dishes back home in Biñan, but nothing compares to eating authentic Korean food, prepared by Korean cooks and chefs, in the land where these dishes were born. It was not just delicious; it was unforgettable. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Seolleongtang (설렁탕) – Korean ox bone soup, with white rice and kimchi
Fresh from Incheon Airport and enduring the 18–20°C weather, our one-hour bus commute offered us a short nap and a quiet moment to settle in. My expectations upon arriving at our first Korean restaurant (I forgot to ask our tour guide for the name) were high and thankfully, they were met.
My first taste of Korean ox bone soup with kimchi: cabbage, radish, and white rice was comforting, grounding, and rejuvenating. Beside me was Zoe, my ARMY daughter, softly humming in approval.
The soup had just the right amount of beef, glass noodles, and green onions. It isn’t as savory as our bulalo, but the tang of the beef lingers. The side dishes, especially the cabbage kimchi, carried a subtle sweetness that stayed long after the next bite. No frills, just nourishment. The kind of food that steadies the soul. With each spoonful, it seemed to whisper, “You’ve made it.”
Conversations about how tasty and filling the dish was floated around our table. Some asked for salt, even searched for patis or toyo, but for me, the broth’s gentle blandness gave full justice to the kimchi, the starchiness of rice, and why ox bone soup is ever present in K-dramas like Dr. Romantic and Weak Hero Class 1. Life is a battle. In the emergency room or at a hospital bed, seolleongtang becomes both cure and balm. In The Glory, when the female leads meet over ox bone soup, they are preparing for revenge.
All of a sudden, it occurred to me: we, too, were about to face something. The fight to make the most of our five days and four nights in Seoul: the push and pull of desire, fatigue, wonder, and the resilience of fangirls in pilgrimage.
Watermelon Bingsu → 빙수 (literally means "shaved ice") and Injeolmi → 인절미 (a type of rice cake coated in roasted soybean powder) in Hangang-daero
The first official stop of our tour was the HYBE building in Hangang-daero. A throng of ARMYs from all over the world was already gathered along the sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of RM and V’s black cars entering the building. After taking our customary group photos, we decided to visit a café nearby to extend our rest. A four-hour flight was manageable, but the six hours of prep time at the airport had worn me out.
At Mealtop Café, I ordered injeolmi, and my Tita ARMY friend chose bingsu. This was both our snack and dessert rolled into one. After a hearty bowl of seolleongtang and white rice, the soft, chewy rice cake dusted in roasted soybean powder was the perfect follow-up. Injeolmi grounds the palate—it’s mellow and earthy, with a texture that reminded me of tikoy and espasol.
Later, I admittedly regretted indulging in such a calorie-laden snack, especially when we were soon served veggie bibimbap for our late lunch. Still, this traditional Korean treat left an impression. Like Seoul itself, injeolmi is practical, grounding and steady.
That first day in Seoul reminded me that food isn’t just about filling the stomach—it’s about grounding the spirit. It’s amazing how foreign food can do this. Despite the differences, I found unexpected connections to the home-cooked Filipino dishes we love. From the warmth of seolleongtang to the quiet comfort of injeolmi, every bite carried a story, a memory, a beginning. And as we walked back to the bus stop, I knew this journey would nourish more than just my appetite.
Up next: bibimbap, Jeyuk Bokkeum (제육볶음), Doenjang-guk (된장국), Ssam veggies, rice, banchan
