Korea’s bread pilgrimage: From bagel queues to city pride

A variety of bagels and sandwiches are displayed at the London Bagel Museum on Jeju Island. Korea Times file

Leaning against Jeju's serene beaches, a bustling line forms not for the view but for a single, somewhat unexpected purpose: to buy bagels from the island's famed branch of London Bagel Museum.

Here, the scent of freshly baked bread drifts through the sea air as visitors hold empty trays in anticipation. For many, the first bite into the bagel is less about hunger than the reward of patience — chewy, fermented dough wrapped around thick, salty cream cheese.

The craze doesn’t stop at Jeju. The brand, with branches in Seoul’s popular areas of Anguk, Jamsil, Yeouido and more, draws equally long lines wherever it goes. The name itself combines the founder’s favorite words, evoking both nostalgia and a sense of gravitas.

Scenes like this now play out across Korea. From the southern island of Jeju to the hipster streets of Seoul's Seongsu-dong and the mid-sized city of Daejeon, bakeries have become destinations as familiar as cafes or galleries.

Queuing for bread has turned into a modern ritual, and the term "ppangji sullye," the Korean word for "bread pilgrimage," has entered everyday language. Though rice has traditionally anchored the Korean diet, today’s younger generation sees bread as something more than food — it’s a symbol of taste, trend and lifestyle.

Randy's Donuts branch on Jeju Island features locally inspired flavors such as Jeju tangerine and black sesame glaze, reflecting the brand's adaptation to Korean tastes. Courtesy of Randy's Donuts

A few kilometers away from the island's famous bagel spot, the Los Angeles-born Randy's Donuts has also found its own success. Its signature sweet rings shimmer with black sesame glaze or are coated in bright orange, inspired by Jeju's tangerines. Once considered an American classic, the brand now feels unmistakably Korean with these Jeju-exclusive flavors.

But the latest breakout star of Korea’s baked goods scene is a little more humble. The salted butter roll — known locally as “sogeum-ppang,” which literally means “salt bread” — has reached near-mythical status here.

Made of laminated dough folded with butter and topped with a dab of salt, it hits the palate with a crisp exterior and silky soft interior. At bakeries in Seongsu-dong, one of the nation's trendiest neighborhoods, the line for this single pastry can wrap around entire blocks.

Photos of Seongsu's viral venues such as Jayeondo Salt Bread and Beton flood social media feeds daily and influencers document the act of tearing the buttery treat open as carefully as a product review.

The interior of Sungsimdang, Daejeon's iconic bakery best known for its signature fried soboro buns, a longtime symbol of the city's culinary identity / Courtesy of Sungsimdang

City identity

Two hours south of the capital, the city of Daejeon also tells its own story through bread.

At the heart of this narrative is Sungsimdang, a beloved bakery founded in 1956 and widely credited with inventing the fried "soboro-ppang" — a deep-fried bun coated in streusel, soft inside and stuffed with traditional sweet red bean paste. Other signature items include garlic chive bread and the myeongnan (pollack roe) baguette, among a growing list of classical and inventive offerings.

For decades, a telltale sign of a traveler returning from Daejeon was a shopping bag from Sungsimdang, packed with its signature fried buns as a souvenir. In the age of social media, Sungsimdang has earned a following for its generously topped, reasonably priced seasonal fruit cakes — featuring strawberries, mangoes, figs or mandarins, depending on the season. These cakes regularly draw long lines, with some customers making trips from other cities just to bring one home.

The bakery has evolved into an emblem of local pride as residents send its pastries as gifts and visitors treat it as a must-visit attraction.

The city's bready pride has even been officially embraced. Earlier this year, Daejeon released a booklet that roughly translates to "Bread Walk in Daejeon," a 150-page guide showcasing more than 100 bakeries as part of a self-guided walking tour. The project aimed to cement the city's identity as "the city of bread" and to encourage travelers to look beyond the capital region.

Bakery workers at Sungsimdang in Daejeon arrange freshly baked bread and pastries on display shelves. Courtesy of Sungsimdang

This move reflects a broader national trend in which bakeries have become both cultural landmarks and tourism drivers. According to data from navigation service Tmap Mobility, 4 of the 10 most-searched restaurants during Korea's 2024 summer travel season were bakeries.

Behind these numbers is a new cultural economy driven by aesthetics and emotion.

Bread in Korea has now become both a sensory indulgence and a symbol of patience, an antidote to the nation's otherwise high-speed lifestyle. Every bite delivers not only flavor but a sense of pause, something that many find increasingly rare in modern Korean society.

And this bread boom isn’t just for the younger generation. As Western food culture has steadily blended into Korean lifestyles over the past decades, many in the older generation — now in their 50s and 60s — have grown accustomed to, or even fond of, incorporating bread into their daily routines.

"I think Koreans' love for bread partly comes from how light it feels, almost like a snack, compared to traditional meals based on rice," Choi, a Korean housewife in her 50s, told The Korea Times.

"For me and most people I know, bread is something that goes with a quick coffee grab rather than a full meal that takes time. It's easy to eat and convenient, which fits the fast-paced rhythm of our society."

Customers select bread at a bakery in Seoul, Sept. 3. Yonhap.

Price of pleasure

As bread becomes more common in Korean diets, the term "Korean bread" is now recognized as a style of its own abroad.

Foreign visitors describe Korean bread as softer and often a lot sweeter than its European counterparts. Red-bean croissants, sweetened garlic bread and donuts filled with heavy cream have turned into markers of a distinctly Korean approach to bread — one that values the short-term savory experience over tradition.

"I understand the palate differences," wrote one TikTok user, despite saying they "didn't get" the sweeter style of Korean bread. "Bread is the European equivalent of rice, so you wouldn't want it to be sweet. But in Asia, bread has never been part of a main meal, so it's naturally bound to taste sweeter."

However, as bakeries continue to multiply and lines grow longer, prices have risen just as quickly. The term "ppang-flation" — a blend of the Korean word for bread, "ppang," and inflation — has emerged to describe a growing concern, as the comfort once found in a simple pastry is becoming harder to afford.

Salt bread is displayed at Glow Seongsu in Seoul's Seongdong District, Aug. 31. Yonhap

In August, a pop-up store in Seoul's Seongsu-dong drew nationwide attention by selling salt bread for just 990 won ($0.70), roughly one-third the price charged at major chains.

The promotion, intended as a brief marketing stunt by YouTuber Syuka World, instead sparked a wider debate. For some, it represented fair pricing in an overheated market; for others, it underscored how luxury had crept into something as ordinary as bread.

The numbers seem to support the latter view.

According to Korea Credit Data, bagel prices have jumped 44 percent and salt bread 30 percent in the past three years. A report by the Fair Trade Commission showed that Korea's bread consumer price index reached 129 in 2023, higher than in the United States (125), Japan (120) or France (118), meaning the cost of bread in Korea is rising faster than the general rate of inflation.

Different kinds of bagels and sandwiches are displayed at the London Bagel Museum in Jongno District, central Seoul. Korea Times file

Yet despite the rising costs, the queues have not disappeared. Bread in Korea has now transformed from a basic food into a small luxury — a reward people grant themselves at the end of a busy day even amid sluggish economic conditions.

A 7,000 won croissant from a dessert shop or a 6,000 won bagel may not be essential, but in an anxious and fast-moving Korean society, a single loaf of bread may offer comfort that is affordable, immediate and very personal.

"Bread isn't a necessity, but life just feels better with it," said Jeong, a university student in Seoul who joked that her love of bread started the day she was born.

"I don't mind spending some of my spare change on good bread, the kind that helps me get through the day. Isn't that one of the sweetest, most harmless ways to relieve stress?"

On any given morning, the scent of freshly baked dough still drifts across Jeju's coastal roads and through Seongsu's narrow alleys. People wait not because what they're here for is cheap, but because it is meaningful for them — a small moment of calm and a taste that feels earned.