Why young Koreans are meeting strangers to eat french fries together

Participants of a french fry gathering pile up fries on their tray at McDonald's Sinsa branch in Gangnam District, Seoul, March 6. Courtesy of McDonald's Korea

Red cartons stacked into makeshift towers. Phones hovering overhead for the perfect aerial shot. Some 50 strangers chatting like old friends — all brought together by little more than a shared love of french fries.

That was the scene at a McDonald's near Sinsa Station in southern Seoul earlier this month, where what looked like an ordinary fast-food outlet transformed into something harder to categorize: a pop-up social gathering built entirely around fries.

The idea is older than it looks. Back in 2013, a group of attendees at Comic World, an amateur subculture convention, gathered at a McDonald's in Busan simply to eat mountains of french fries together. The tradition resurfaced earlier this year and quickly swept the country, spreading through social media and Danggeun, Korea's largest secondhand marketplace app, known as Karrot in English.

The format is disarmingly simple: Strangers gather at a fast-food joint, order towering trays of fries, swap stories over crispy bites, then go their separate ways — no strings, no dues, no drama. There are no membership fees, no obligation to return and no requirement to reveal more than you want to. For a generation wary of heavy relational commitments, that lightness is the point.

For the official event that day, co‑hosted by McDonald’s Korea and Danggeun Market, where all-you-can-eat fries and refillable beverages were served to a select few, nearly 16,000 people applied. The crowd, mainly in their 20s and 30s, competed by sharing who was the most authentic french fry lover.

At one table, four fresh faces skipped straight to intros: "I'm a huge french fry fan," one said. Within minutes, they were trading details about their jobs and anime preferences, cracking jokes and laughing over shared tastes.

"I came precisely because the gathering was explicitly about fries," said Kim Min-jeong, 28, an acting academy instructor, noting that the fries offer both a shared topic and a boundary at the gathering.

"I've always loved them. But I never quite had the courage to attend an impromptu meetup found online. An 'official' event felt safer, more contained. When the common ground is just french fries, it actually feels easier."

Participants of a french fry gathering chat over fries at McDonald's Sinsa branch in Gangnam District, Seoul, March 6. Korea Times photo by Park Jin-hai

Kim linked the event to a broader trend she sees in neighborhoods around western Seoul's Hongdae area, where cafes host single-topic study or hobby sessions that begin and end with one sitting.

"After graduating from university, no one organizes your social life for you; you have to go out and meet people on your own. Yet my peers routinely confess they have no idea where to go on dates, make friends or even meet new people," she said. "One-off gatherings like this create low-stakes chances. If you meet someone good, that’s a bonus; if not, the experience itself is enough."

Mera Ayaka, a 30‑year‑old Japanese woman who has been living in Korea for three years, said she has been obsessed with fries since childhood.

"When I saw this trend blowing up in Korea, I just had to try it — there's nothing like it back home, so uniquely intriguing," she said. "In Japan, fries usually come with salt on the side. Here in Korea, ketchup's the default, but back home, it's rarely standard issue."

Social but not intimate, friendly but not intrusive

Yet beneath the levity lies a surprisingly careful architecture of safety and etiquette. Unwritten rules have emerged: a minimum of three people per gathering, and it is discouraged to ask for private one‑on‑one offshoot meetups or for personal contact information or social media handles.

Organizers remind participants that minors and adults share the same space, thus everyone should be mindful of their words and behavior. The gatherings are designed to be social but not intimate, friendly but not intrusive.

This norm of no side deals distinguishes these french fry gatherings from older social club cultures or offline dating events. The emphasis is firmly on the here‑and‑now experience. You come, you eat, you talk, and you leave. The relationship is with the moment, not with the people — unless both sides later choose otherwise.

Participants of a french fry gathering chat over fries at McDonald's Sinsa branch in Gangnam District, Seoul, March 6. Courtesy of McDonald's Korea

Before the french fry craze, there was "gyeongdo" — a combination of "gyeongchal" (police in Korean) and "doduk" (thief), referring to a cops-and-robbers tag game. Cops tag thieves within a time limit, hauling them off to a designated jail area, while thieves who aren't caught attempt to break their teammates out by tagging them.

This childhood staple has roared back via social media, with sign-ups on apps like Danggeun and games unfolding in neighborhood parks and fields. Its dead-simple rules — no gear, no fees — let total strangers bond quickly: Awkward hellos turn into team huddles, rule debates and cheers for squadmates. Everyone jumps in, barriers drop, and suddenly you're all in it together.

The trend has attracted celebrity attention too. Singer Lee Young-ji organized a large-scale gyeongdo at a Seoul park in January, gathering 100 strangers for a game — an event that drew more than 100,000 applicants.

"It feels like we're in an era of turning away from total individualism. Suddenly people are showing up for stuff like this, and I was just dying to experience the social phenomenon firsthand out of pure curiosity," said a Seoul National University computer science student, who organizes french fry gatherings for fellow students via Danggeun.

"Take gyeongdo or fries — they're nostalgic, reminding us of our childhood, all pure and innocent. I figured it'd be a spot where I could just speak my mind freely, unlike other meetups. Age and gender aside, it's a place for real and fun connection."

Loose ties in hyperconnected age

Experts say millennials and Gen Z's obsession with french fry gatherings stems from their no-pressure meetups, light chit-chat and clean goodbyes — what they call "loose solidarity." These events skip grand goals or commitments, hitting the sweet spot for a generation craving the simplest form of connection.

Cultural critic Jung Duk-hyun sees fries as loaded with symbolism.

"Young people today want to meet folks but hate deep ties — this feels like their new relational vibe. Fries are just light — easy to munch without fanfare. With so many solo eaters and loners out there, these casual links deliver tiny hits of joy," he said.

"It also looks like today's generation is all about those instant social media pop-ups for a shared goal — achieving it quick, then done. And now it's spinning off into all sorts of flavors. Like a riff on running crews, but for casual group munching instead?"

The official french fry gathering at the McDonald's lasted about 90 minutes. By the end, the once‑towering piles of fries had disappeared and conversations wound down almost as abruptly as they began. In the group chat set up for the event, participants posted their best fry‑mountain pictures and exchanged a few “That was fun” and “Get home safe” messages, and then the room went quiet.

Korea University sociology professor Yoon In‑jin interprets these trends as part of a broader pattern.

"Young people want to reduce the psychological and temporal burdens that often come with relationships, yet they still seek a sense of social connection. They place greater value on the experience of the meetup itself rather than on locking those encounters into long‑term commitments," he explained.

Digital platforms play a key role in this phenomenon, making it easy to search, within minutes, for strangers nearby who share a very specific interest — whether that’s running, reading or simply comparing the saltiness of different fast‑food chains’ fries.

"Social media and apps make spotting like-minded strangers a snap, ditching old physical hurdles. Tech-savvy youth are fueling these pop-up scenes and spreading them like wildfire," Yoon said.