Demand for Korea's favorite winter pastry stronger than ever as streetside stalls disappear

Bungeoppang stalls may be becoming harder to find, yet demand for the satisfyingly warm carp-shaped pastry filled with sweetened red bean — a beloved icon of the Korean winter — is only growing.

Bungeoppang (fish-shaped pastry)[WOO JI-WON]

Bungeoppang stalls may be becoming harder to find, yet demand for the satisfyingly warm, carp-shaped pastry — a beloved icon of the Korean winter — is only growing, with fresh alternatives and upgraded venues feeding the cold and hungry instead.

Across Seoul, the number of street vendors dropped from 6,079 in 2020 to 4,741 last year — more than a 20 percent decrease in just four years. That shrinking presence is felt on the ground.

On a recent Tuesday afternoon in Jongno District, central Seoul, the app Bungsekwon — created in 2020 as stalls became scarce — showed three bungeoppang carts near Exit 6 of Euljiro 1-ga Station. The map marks vendors across the country so people can find them. So far, it has been downloaded 100,000 times.

Despite the map promising numerous vendors, the latest user reviews dated back to early January. And as is often the case, the coordinates pinned on the map led only to empty patches of sidewalk.

Nobody was selling bungeoppang at a coordinate marked near Euljiro-1-ga Station on the Bungsekwon app. [WOO JI-WON]

The shrinking number of bungeoppang stalls has been widely attributed to rising ingredient and oil costs. According to the Korea Agro-Fisheries & Food Trade Corporation, domestic red beans — the key filling of bungeoppang — hit 748,800 won ($510) per 40 kilograms last month, up more than 20 percent from the price a year earlier.

Crackdowns on unlicensed street stalls have also pushed them out. In principle, street vendors must obtain permission from their local government to sell bunggeoppang, and they must pay a road-use fee.

Seoul's Dongdaemun District Office, which became the first local government to introduce a special police unit dedicated to cracking down on illegally operating street stalls, has dismantled 154 of 281 identified illegal sites so far this year. In Gwangju's five districts, authorities conducted more than 540 crackdowns on bunggeoppang stalls last year alone, mainly driven by a rise in citizen complaints — an increase of about 60 percent compared to 2023.

However, their scarcity is only fueling demand, prompting people to seek them out and to buy one on the spot even if they hadn't planned to.

A bungeoppang stall in Mapo District, western Seoul [WOO JI-WON]

"I didn't expect to find a bungeoppang stall here, but I bought some right away because I hardly see them anymore," said Ha Yeon-ji, a university student who picked up three pieces fish-shaped pastries stuffed with red bean paste a stall near Gayang Station in Mapo District. Like Ha, many passersby seemed surprised to stumble upon the cart and stopped instantly, creating a steady stream of people grabbing one as they walked past.

The enthusiasm for bungeoppang isn't limited to locals. Korea's beloved winter snack is drawing lines not only from residents but also from foreign travelers. Near Euljiro 1-ga Station's Exit 7, a small crowd of tourists had gathered around a stall, and even before the cart came into view, the sweet, toasty scent promised freshly cooked bungeoppang.

The cart was plastered with handwritten notes in Chinese and Malay, and a friendly-looking man was flipping pastries on the grill.

A small crowd gathered near a crossaint bungeoppang stall in Jongno District, central Seoul [WOO JI-WON]

Lucy shows a screen displaying the famous bungeoppang stall. [WOO JI-WON]

"This place is popular on TikTok and Xiaohongshu," said Lucy, a Chinese tourist who had visited with four friends. She turned her phone over to show videos of the place and the owner posing with a bungeoppang in hand. "We came to try the famous stretchy cheese one."

When their order was ready, the owner — who calls himself "croissant bungeoppang ajeosshi," using the Korean term of affection for middle-age men — lifted two fresh-cooked pastries over a paper bag, held a big thumbs-up and shouted "Crispy!" in enthusiastic Chinese for a photo. The group squealed and hurried to snap pictures.

Each croissant bungeoppang costs 5,000 won — quite costly compared to the typical "three for 1,000 won" — but these pastries justify their price with crisp, buttery croissant layers wrapped around a variety of fillings like cheese, Nutella, apple, sweet potato, strawberry and blueberry.

An owner of crossaint bungeoppang stall poses for a photo each time before hadning out a croissant bungeoppang. [WOO JI-WON]

The owner has run the stall since 2000, but switched to croissant-style bungeoppang after Covid-19. Recently, Chinese tourists have been flocking to the place after it blew up on social media. His fame has quickly spread to Malaysia, the Philippines and Japan, and his son has been coming out to help.

As seen, street carts may be dwindling, but bungeoppang themselves are thriving — moving from their previous habitat on the street to the corners of supermarkets, convenience stores, cafes and even dedicated stores. And many are being creative with it, reinventing the fish-shaped pastry.

Mochigo Haenggung in Suwon's Haenggung-dong — easily spotted by its bright yellow signboard with Japanese lettering — was packed on a recent Saturday. The interior resembles a distinctive Japanese-style dessert cafe, while their bungeoppang are uniquely stuffed with mochi. The fillings are also hard to find elsewhere, ranging from milk cream and matcha chocolate to Tokyo banana, mugwort choux cream and sweet-pumpkin sweet potato. Prices run from 2,900 to 3,700 won.

Mochi-go in Suwon [WOO JI-WON]

And as bunggeoppang's popularity continues to rise, major companies are actively stepping into the market.

Coffee chain Ediya has sold over 222,000 bungeoppang as of last week, since they were released on Sept. 22. It also launched a limited-edition "Good-Luck Bungeoppang" keyring inspired by traditional dried pollack talismans — it sold out instantly. More than 11,000 people applied for 240 keyrings, prompting the brand to prepare a wider release later this year.

Otoki also plans to introduce its "Bung-O-Ppang" product in the United States this December, with flavors including matcha — created, the company says, to suit American millennial tastes.

A man grills bungeoppang at a stall in Jongno District, central Seoul. [JOONGANG ILBO]

Driving the chase for bungeoppang is nostalgia, says Lee Hong-joo, professor of Consumer Economics at Sookmyung Women's University.

"Bungeoppang have become more than a snack — they now symbolizes Korean winter culture," Lee said. "They're a seasonal rarity, their presence near schools and alleyways, and the childhood memories tied to them have allowed them to be cherished across generations. The warmth they provide and the familiar sight of them returning each winter have made them a defining seasonal food."

Lee also noted that it has become a "cultural content."

In Seoul, there are bungeoppang-themed omakase places where chefs serve a curated selection of pastries — and even bungeoppang blind dates.

Jewelry brand Olor created a bungeoppang-shaped necklace called "Memory Bungeoppang," the product of three years of crowdfunding since 2022. Even a bungeoppang-themed board game, Bungeoppang Master, is set to debut, featuring a rotating board that mimics vendors flipping their grills.

"With premium varieties, merchandise and even bungeoppang omakase, it has become cultural content. It is now a special dish that embodies Korean sensibilities and seasonal memory," Lee said.

BY WOO JI-WON [woo.jiwon@joongang.co.kr]