고향포차

About

Hometown-style pojangmacha. Soju and fried chicken.

Six PM on a weekday, you can walk straight into 고향포차. Weekend dinner? You needed to call two weeks ago. The owner, Kim Sun-deok, runs four tables—three if you count the one she occupies herself—in an unmarked room five minutes from Seoul Station exit 15. No sign you'd notice. No address on Naver. A slip of paper taped to the wall reads: "Rice, liquor, water—self-service. I'm Kim Sun-deok." The baseline is a full home-cooked spread before you order anything: soy-braised eggs the size of your palm, still steaming; oyster-and-radish salad dressed sharp and sweet; countryside soybean-paste stew with enough body to want rice immediately. Regulars pile the oyster salad onto grilled pork belly with perilla and garlic—Sun-deok's pairing, not written anywhere. Mains come portioned for sharing at scale: stir-fried squid glistening with gochugaru oil, leek japchae so glossy the noodles catch the overhead bulb, whole batches meant to feed four. She'll appear mid-meal to scrape the jeyuk marinade into your rice bowl, scissors out the scallion kimchi into it, mix it herself without asking. Order everything at once when you sit—no staggered courses, no changes. One dish per person minimum. If you're nursing drinks, she'll notice. Bring cash, or find the paid lot two blocks over if you drove. Last order goes in at 11:20 PM. Closed Sundays. The weekday window between five and six-thirty is your shot if you're not a regular yet.