How Well Do You Know South Korea’s Winter Street Snacks?

[mediK / HEALTH IN NEWS] There’s something quietly magical about a winter night in South Korea. Even when the wind bites, the streets come alive with steam curling from makeshift stalls and the sweet, toasty aromas that make passersby stop in their tracks. A paper pouch as warm as a hand-warmer, a quick bite eaten on the spot—these simple pleasures are what give Korean winters their unmistakable glow. For travelers, they’re an easy, delicious way to feel the season like a local. One practical tip: many vendors still prefer cash (or mobile transfers), so keep some won handy.

Bungeoppang

If one snack defines Korean winter, it’s bungeoppang. These fish-shaped pastries are filled with sweetened red bean paste, served piping hot, and just the right size for eating on the go. Cute, comforting, and affordable, they’ve ridden the ups and downs of the Korean economy. They famously reappeared on street corners after the 1997 IMF crisis, giving rise to the half-joking saying that “when bungeoppang stalls multiply, the economy must be struggling.” Few treats feel as nostalgic to Koreans.



Hotteok
Hotteok may reign over Korean winters now, but its roots stretch back to Central Asia. Introduced by Chinese merchants in the late 19th century, the pancake evolved to suit local tastes: a chewy dough stuffed with brown sugar, cinnamon, and seeds that melt into a sticky syrup when it hits the griddle. Busan’s famous “seed hotteok” traces its extra-crunchy recipe to the Korean War refugee era. Today, at any tourist spot in winter, you’ll see long lines for this sweet, searing-hot disc.



Gyeran-ppang

The origin story of gyeran-ppang is almost too humble to believe. In 1983, a vendor near a university in Incheon responded to a student who didn’t like red beans by cracking a whole egg into the batter. The simple tweak took off. Fast-forward to 2024, and Airbnb named Korean egg bread one of the world’s top 50 breads. It’s elongated, slightly sweet, and crowned with a soft-boiled egg—pure comfort in oval form.



Hopang

Walk into any Korean convenience store in winter and you’ll find stacks of hopang steaming in the warmer. Launched in the 1970s after inspiration from Japanese steamed buns, the name itself—“ho ho, blow on it to cool”—became marketing genius. Red bean remains the classic filling, but the ritual of cradling the soft, cloudy bun in your hands and taking cautious bites as the steam escapes is what makes it a seasonal icon.



Tteokbokki and Odeng

Spicy tteokbokki—chewy rice cakes simmered in a bright red sauce—is practically Korean winter’s energy drink. One shared skillet with friends and the cold disappears. Foreign visitors often fall hard and fast for it. Don’t skip the accompanying odeng (fish cake skewers) swimming in their light, savory broth; a free sip of that broth is one of the small, unspoken kindnesses of Korean street food culture.



Gunbam

Nothing fancy here—just chestnuts roasted over coals in a perforated drum, their fragrance drifting down the block. The vendor scoops the blackened shells into a paper cone, and you peel them as you walk, warming your fingers on the hot nuts inside. In a country full of flashy snacks, roasted chestnuts (gunbam) remain the quiet, soul-soothing classic.



Oh Ha Eun medi·K TEAM press@themedik.kr

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