Korean desserts and drinks have a vibe that’s totally different from the sugar-loaded treats you find in Western cuisine.
Instead of relying on heaps of sugar, these sweets use natural ingredients like rice, beans, and grains. They create delicate flavours that refresh you, not overwhelm you.
Two classics really stand out: bingsu, that shaved ice dessert everyone’s talking about, and sikhye, a sweet rice punch that usually comes out after big meals to help with digestion.
Both treats show how Korea approaches desserts—balance matters more than just intensity.
Bingsu started as a simple bowl of shaved ice with red beans, while sikhye comes from old-school fermentation methods using malted barley.
You’ll find modern cafés all over Seoul serving bingsu in wild varieties, from mango cheesecake to matcha tiramisu.
Still, the classic versions stick around at festivals and family gatherings.
If you want to understand these Korean desserts and drinks, you need to dig into a culture that genuinely values subtlety and seasonal ingredients.
From rice cakes at Lunar New Year to cinnamon-ginger punch in winter, each sweet plays a specific role in Korean food traditions.
Old recipes mix with new creativity, making this cuisine worth exploring—whether you’re popping into a neighbourhood Korean restaurant or trying your hand at homemade sikhye.
Korean desserts have changed a lot, moving from simple rice-based treats at festivals to a full-on lifestyle thing focused on cafés and aesthetics.
Now, you’ll spot these sweets in traditional markets, street stalls, and cafés that seem built for Instagram.
People call traditional Korean sweets “hangwa,” and they use rice, grains, honey, and fruit.
Tteok (rice cakes) show up at weddings and holidays.
Yakgwa, a deep-fried honey cookie, makes an appearance at ancestral rites.
These desserts stick to subtle sweetness and natural ingredients.
Modern Korean desserts take those traditions and mix in new techniques.
Yakgwa now comes in softer textures and fancy packaging, perfect for gifts.
Cafés serve tteok next to espresso drinks.
Bingsu went from basic shaved ice with red beans to premium desserts loaded with seasonal fruits, handmade milk ice, and even traditional flavours like black sesame or mugwort.
People care more about health these days.
Korean sweets use less sugar, focusing on balanced flavours and good ingredients.
You’ll see Greek yoghurt bowls, protein pastries, and gluten-free options right alongside the classics.
This shift matches what modern customers want, but still keeps that unmistakable Korean taste.
Korean markets are still the go-to places for traditional sweets.
Vendors sell bungeoppang (those fish-shaped pastries with red bean paste) in winter.
Hotteok, sweet pancakes filled with brown sugar and nuts, draws lines at street stalls across Seoul.
Street food stalls give you instant gratification.
You get freshly made treats at prices that don’t break the bank.
Markets offer everything from candied sweet potatoes to new spins on old favourites.
Korean dessert cafés have become more like lifestyle destinations than just sweet shops.
These places usually have minimalist interiors, lots of natural light, and spots set up for photos.
People linger for hours over a single dessert.
Café hopping is a weekend thing now, especially for younger folks.
Strawberry desserts, which used to be seasonal, are now available all year.
Premium bakeries have jumped in too, selling naturally fermented breads and buttery croissants for brunch.
Bingsu used to be just for summer, but now you can get it year-round with seasonal twists.
Spring means strawberry toppings.
In autumn, you’ll see chestnuts and sweet potatoes.
Winter versions might have warm touches like roasted grain powder.
Korean sweet rice punch, or sikhye, usually shows up at family gatherings and after traditional meals.
This fermented rice drink is gently sweet and helps with digestion.
Families serve it during Lunar New Year and harvest festivals.
Certain desserts mark big cultural moments.
People order rainbow tteok for first birthdays.
Honey-soaked yakgwa is a wedding staple.
Moon-shaped songpyeon signals Chuseok harvest celebrations.
Even as cafés put their own spin on these sweets, the balance between ceremonial desserts and everyday treats is what really defines Korean sweet culture in 2026.
Bingsu is all about that delicate, snow-like texture and a wild range of toppings, from classic red bean paste to modern café creations.
This dessert started in royal courts and now fills trendy cafés, with chains like Sulbing leading the charge.
Bingsu stands apart from regular shaved ice because of its milk-based, ultra-fine texture.
The ice gets shaved so thin, it feels like fresh snow instead of just crushed ice.
Most cafés use frozen milk or sweetened cream blocks—way creamier than plain water.
When you eat it, the ice melts smoothly on your tongue.
Traditionally, people layer the ingredients throughout the ice, not just dump them on top.
That way, every spoonful has a bit of everything.
The texture should stay light and fluffy, never crunchy.
Cafés usually serve bingsu in big bowls for sharing, though single-serve cups are catching on.
People especially crave it during July and August, when Korea’s steamy summer pushes everyone into air-conditioned cafés to chill over these icy desserts.
Patbingsu is the OG and still the favourite.
“Pat” means red bean, and “bingsu” is shaved ice—so yeah, red beans are the star here.
Shops that care about quality make their own sweet red bean paste, balancing texture and sweetness just right.
The classic version comes with shaved milk ice, sweet red beans, chewy rice cakes (injeolmi), a drizzle of condensed milk, and sometimes cornflakes for crunch.
Some spots throw on a scoop of vanilla ice cream or fruit.
The red beans bring an earthy sweetness that works really well with the creamy ice.
Traditional patbingsu components:
This combo might sound odd if you’ve never had Korean desserts, but the red bean’s subtle flavour actually pairs perfectly with dairy.
Injeolmi adds a chewy bite, breaking up the softness of the ice.
Sulbing shook up Korean dessert culture when it launched in 2013.
They made bingsu a premium café experience, especially with their injeolmi bingsu—roasted soybean powder and rice cake pieces take centre stage.
That version became an Instagram hit with younger customers.
Now, cafés offer all sorts of bingsu: matcha green tea, strawberry or mango, and even quirky ones that look like jjajangmyeon noodles.
Luxury hotels sometimes charge over ₩140,000 for bingsu made with Jeju apple mangoes or imported fruit.
Cup bingsu is the latest affordable, grab-and-go option.
Chains like Mega Coffee and Compose Coffee sell single servings in plastic cups, with flavours like tiramisu, cookies and cream, or fruit parfait.
Convenience stores stock ready-made versions for ₩3,000 to ₩5,000, so you can grab one anytime.
These new spins keep the essential shaved ice but play with toppings, from cheesecake chunks to coffee syrups.
You’ll even find bingsu cafés popping up in Dublin, London, and other big cities.
Patbingsu with red beans has inspired all kinds of creative twists that use seasonal ingredients and global dessert trends.
You’ll see these modern versions everywhere, from Korean cafés to bakery chains, and some are honestly pretty extravagant.
Strawberry bingsu steals the spotlight in spring and early summer, right when Korean strawberries are at their best.
This dessert layers shaved milk ice with strawberries—sometimes candied—plus strawberry syrup and vanilla ice cream.
Most shops charge 12,000 to 18,000 won per bowl.
Mango bingsu is the fancy pick.
Fresh mango costs a lot in Korea, so prices usually start at 15,000 won in regular cafés.
High-end hotel versions can go over 100,000 won, using imported mangoes, mango syrup, and vanilla ice cream.
Watermelon and melon bingsu show up in peak summer.
The Josun Hotel’s watermelon bingsu, at about 65,000 won, even blends watermelon into the ice and adds chocolate “seeds.”
Melon bingsu often arrives in a hollowed-out melon packed with shaved milk ice, melon chunks, and yoghurt ice cream.
Matcha bingsu swaps out plain milk for frozen matcha latte as the ice.
Cafés top it with sweet red bean paste, matcha ice cream, and sometimes sticky rice cakes (chapssalteok).
That mix balances matcha’s bitterness with sweet toppings.
Chocolate bingsu goes all in—milk or chocolate milk ice, Oreos, chocolate cereal, chocolate ice cream, chocolate syrup.
Some places even add brownies or extra chocolate sauce.
Yoghurt bingsu uses yoghurt-milk ice with fresh berries, especially strawberries and blueberries.
Most cafés use yoghurt powder for the ice.
Topping it with sharp, slightly sour yoghurt ice cream cuts through the sweetness.
Bakery chains like Paris Baguette and Tous Les Jours serve their own bingsu alongside breads and cakes.
These versions cost less than the specialty cafés but still taste good, thanks to consistent recipes.
Paris Baguette sticks with fruit options, while Tous Les Jours leans into chocolate and cookie flavours.
Sulbing, the bingsu café chain, made injeolmi bingsu super popular, with roasted bean powder, almond slices, and rice cake bits.
Their menu also includes red bean paste or injeolmi ice cream, plus a side of condensed milk.
Cup bingsu is the latest thing for 2026.
Single-serve cups are quick to make and easy to eat on the go.
Usually, they have patbingsu staples like red bean paste, corn flakes, azuki ice cream, and rice cakes, all layered with shaved milk ice.
Sikhye (식혜), Korea’s classic sweet rice punch, blends fermented malt water with cooked rice.
You’ll usually get it served cold, with rice grains floating in the glass.
This drink has been around for centuries and carries a lot of meaning in Korean celebrations.
People make it through a unique process using barley malt powder.
Sikhye comes together with just three main ingredients: cooked short-grain rice, barley malt powder (yeotgireum), and sugar. To start, you mix malt powder with warm water and let it sit for about 30 minutes before straining. This step creates a liquid packed with enzymes.
Those enzymes get to work in the next stage. Pour the strained malt water over hot, freshly cooked rice. Keep everything warm—about 60°C—for four to six hours. During this time, the enzymes break down the rice, gradually turning starches into sugars. You’ll spot rice grains floating when fermentation finishes.
Strain the liquid again, then add more water and sugar. Simmer it all for 10 minutes. After that, let the drink cool, then chill it in the fridge. Sikhye ends up light and malty, with a gentle sweetness that’s more refreshing than rich.
Sikhye has roots in the Joseon dynasty, where it made appearances at royal banquets as both a palate cleanser and a digestive. Over time, it left palace kitchens and found its way into everyday homes. Now, it’s a staple at big Korean holidays like Seollal (Lunar New Year) and Chuseok.
Offering sikhye to guests after a meal shows hospitality and care in Korean tradition. The drink stands for renewal at New Year and sweet conclusions at weddings or birthdays. Many families make big batches before holidays, turning it into a communal activity that brings generations together.
People prize sikhye for its digestive benefits, too. After a heavy or spicy meal, a cold glass of sweet rice drink can really help settle the stomach and offer a satisfying, light finish.
If you wander through traditional markets in Korea, you’ll spot sikhye in big metal tubs, served ice-cold to folks strolling past food stalls. Vendors scoop it into cups, always with a few rice grains floating for good measure. These days, you can even grab canned or bottled sikhye at convenience stores for a quick fix.
Making sikhye at home isn’t tough, but it does take patience. You can find barley malt powder at Korean grocery stores or online. Some people use rice cookers to keep the right temperature for fermentation, while others just wrap pots in blankets and hope for the best.
Pour sikhye into clear glasses so you can see the rice grains and that lovely golden colour. For special events, a few pine nuts on top look nice. Sikhye will keep for about three days in the fridge, but honestly, it tastes best in the first day or two.
Korean drinks go way beyond bingsu and sikhye. There’s a whole world of spiced punches, fruity coolers, citrus teas, and grain-based drinks. Koreans somehow turn simple ingredients like cinnamon, watermelon, or roasted grains into either cooling summer sips or cozy winter tonics.
Sujeonggwa (수정과) is one of Korea’s best-known traditional punches. People usually serve it cold after big holiday meals, especially at Chuseok and Lunar New Year. The drink blends dried persimmons, cinnamon sticks, fresh ginger, and sugar, steeped together for hours before straining and chilling.
You get a deep amber liquid with a warming, spicy aroma. Soft persimmon pieces and pine nuts float in each glass, adding a bit of texture. Store-bought versions can taste too sweet or too spicy, but when you make it right, the ginger gives gentle heat and the cinnamon stays fragrant, never harsh. Some families swear by its digestive or immune-boosting qualities in winter, but honestly, plenty of people just enjoy the taste.
Hwachae covers a whole range of Korean fruit punches. Subak hwachae, made with watermelon, is probably the summer favorite. You cut watermelon into cubes or balls, then soak them in a mix of milk, sugar, and sparkling water or lemon-lime soda for a fizzy touch.
The milk brings out the watermelon’s sweetness, while the bubbles make it extra refreshing. Other hwachae versions use strawberries, pears, or berries. Sometimes, people swap in omija (five-flavour berry) tea for milk, which gives a lighter, floral punch. These drinks are perfect as a snack or a light dessert after a heavy meal. They’re quick to make—just a few minutes—and a great way to try Korean drinks at home.
Yuzu tea, or yuja-cha, turns the fragrant Japanese citrus into a thick syrup with honey or sugar. You slice yuzu thin, mix it with sweetener, and let it ferment for a few weeks. The syrup keeps for months and dissolves in hot water for a sweet-tart, floral tea that’s nothing like your usual lemon or orange.
Modern Korean cafés have gotten creative, mixing yuzu syrup into sparkling ades, lattes, or frozen drinks. These twists keep the tradition alive but appeal to younger folks, too. Lots of cafés also serve grain-based lattes with misugaru or black sesame, blending old-school flavors with trendy café vibes. If you’re curious, you can find yuzu tea in UK Korean grocery stores—it’s an easy place to start.
Misugaru (미수가루) is a hearty, multi-grain powder drink. The powder usually mixes roasted rice, barley, brown rice, Job’s tears, and sometimes black sesame or soybeans. Stir it into cold water or milk, add a little honey or sugar, and you get a thick, nutty drink with a grainy texture and toasty flavor.
People used to rely on misugaru, especially during Korea’s farming days, for a filling summer refresher. The powder stores well, so it’s a handy pantry staple. Some versions have ground almonds or pine nuts for extra richness. The drink is earthy and mildly sweet, a bit like horchata but with its own twist. You can buy ready-made powder online, but if you ever visit a traditional market, try the fresh stuff—it’s just better.
Tteok is the backbone of Korean desserts. These chewy rice cakes deliver subtle sweetness and come in all sorts of shapes, from the nutty, powdered injeolmi to the half-moon songpyeon you see at harvest time.
Korean rice cakes aren’t anything like those crunchy supermarket snacks. Real tteok uses glutinous or regular rice flour, steamed and sometimes pounded, for a soft and chewy bite that sticks to your teeth just a bit.
How you make tteok changes the texture. Steamed versions stay soft and pillowy, while pounded ones get dense and chewy. Some types add grains like sorghum or millet for different flavors and colors.
You’ll find plain white baekseolgi, colorful layered sirutteok, and filled cakes like songpyeon. Each kind has its own place—some for everyday snacking, others for festivals. Most of the sweetness comes from the rice itself, though some varieties use honey or sugar for a boost.
Injeolmi is a crowd favorite. It’s chewy glutinous rice cake, cut into pieces, then rolled in roasted soybean powder. The powder gives it a nutty taste that balances the rice’s mild sweetness.
To make injeolmi, you pound steamed rice until it’s smooth and stretchy. Then you cut it up and cover each piece in golden powder—sometimes black sesame or peanuts take the place of soybeans.
The result is chewy with a powdery coating that melts in your mouth. Eat it fresh, ideally within a day or two. Cafés often pair injeolmi with teas like boricha (barley tea) or omija-cha.
Songpyeon shows up at Chuseok, Korea’s autumn harvest festival. These half-moon cakes have sweet fillings—maybe sesame and honey, red beans, or chestnuts—wrapped in rice dough. Families steam them over pine needles for a hint of fragrance.
The shape isn’t just for looks; it stands for abundance and good fortune. Making songpyeon together is a family tradition, with everyone shaping their own cakes.
Chapssaltteok offers a more modern take. These are soft, sticky rice cakes stuffed with sweet red bean paste or sometimes ice cream. The wrapper is thinner than Japanese mochi, and the fillings are usually sweeter. Chapssaltteok is a year-round treat at bakeries and convenience stores.
Korean street food stands and festival stalls crank out warm, syrup-filled pancakes, crispy fish-shaped pastries stuffed with red bean, and little walnut cakes that make outdoor celebrations feel special.
Hotteok is a winter staple—crispy pancakes filled with brown sugar, cinnamon, and nuts. Vendors press the dough flat on a hot griddle, so the outside turns golden and crisp while the inside melts into gooey syrup.
Usually, you get hotteok in a paper cup or bag. Bite in and you’ll get a rush of sweet, spiced filling. The classic version uses brown sugar and peanuts or walnuts, but you’ll find modern twists with cheese, sweet potato, or chocolate.
Hotteok took off as street food in the 1970s and hasn’t left the scene since. At about 1,000 to 2,000 won each, they’re cheap enough to grab while wandering through markets or festivals.
Bungeoppang means “crucian carp bread.” Vendors pour batter into fish-shaped molds, add sweet red bean paste, and clamp them shut to bake.
The outside comes out crisp and waffle-like, while the inside is soft and sweet. Red bean is traditional, but now you’ll see custard, chocolate, or even ice cream, especially in summer.
You can find bungeoppang all year, but they’re especially popular in autumn and winter. Vendors usually sell them in sets of three or five, hot off the grill. The crisp shell and smooth filling make a great combo, whether you eat them hot or cold.
Hodugwaja hails from Cheonan. These walnut-shaped cakes have red bean paste and real walnut pieces inside. Bakers use walnut-shaped molds, so the cakes actually look like walnuts.
They’re light and spongy, sort of like madeleines. The red bean adds sweetness, and the walnuts bring a nutty crunch. Each cake is only about five centimeters across—just a couple of bites.
Cheonan’s train station is famous for hodugwaja shops, and travelers often grab boxes as gifts. The cakes stay fresh for a few days, so they’re a popular souvenir after festivals or trips to Cheonan.
Korean traditional sweets, or hangwa, bring together honey, ginger, and sesame in treats that carry centuries of meaning. These sweets range from crispy honey cookies to candied roots and old-school childhood favorites.
Yakgwa has made a comeback with younger folks in Korea. Its name blends “yak” (medicine) and “gwa” (confection), hinting at its roots as a healthful treat made with honey, sesame oil, ginger juice, and rice wine.
Bakers first made these cookies during the Later Silla period (668-935), shaping them like birds and animals for Buddhist ceremonies. In the Goryeo Dynasty (918-1392), yakgwa became a royal luxury and appeared at weddings. Over time, the designs shifted from fancy patterns—think pine trees, bats, lotus flowers—to simpler shapes that stack easily.
Today, you’ll find two main types. Gungjung-yakgwa looks like a round flower with rippled edges and has a soft, chewy bite. Kaeseong yakgwa comes in squares or rectangles, and you’ll notice its brittle, layered crunch.
Yakgwa tastes subtle, especially compared to modern desserts. When you bite in, it crumbles softly and you catch hints of ginger, honey, and sesame—nothing too sweet. A sticky amber syrup coats each cookie, balancing the flavors.
Specialty shops like Golden Piece in Seoul’s Hannam-dong sometimes ask customers to reserve certain types in advance. Major chains such as Paris Baguette have rolled out yakgwa tarts, and convenience stores offer single-wrapped versions for quick snacks.
Jeonggwa includes traditional sweets made by simmering fruits, roots, or plant stems in honey or sugar syrup until they turn translucent and candied. People often use ginseng, ginger, lotus root, citron peel, and quince.
This technique started as a way to enjoy seasonal produce all year long. Slow cooking intensifies the natural flavors, and the syrup preserves the treats. Jeonggwa usually shows up during ancestral rites and festive holidays.
Texture depends on the ingredient. Ginger jeonggwa has a spicy-sweet chew, while citron peel offers a gentle bitterness that’s nicely balanced by sugar.
Dalgona candy brings back memories of Korea’s street food scene. Vendors melt sugar, toss in a pinch of baking soda, and whip up a bubbly, crispy honeycomb. They press shapes—stars, hearts, umbrellas—into the candy, and kids try to poke them out without breaking the treat.
Thanks to Korean media, dalgona went global and now rides the retro food wave with millennials and Gen Z. This “newtro” vibe (new plus retro) fuses nostalgia for ‘80s and ‘90s snacks with today’s café culture.
You can find dalgona at traditional markets and shops that focus on reviving classic Korean snacks. The simple combo of sugar and baking soda creates a caramelized crunch that melts away fast.
Korean dessert cafes have shaken up old recipes by mixing them with Western baking and global flavors. Bakeries now craft hybrid pastries that use Korean ingredients and French methods. Even imported desserts like cheesecake get a Korean twist.
Korean bakeries love to blend East and West. The bingsu cheesecake layers creamy cheesecake filling with shaved ice and red bean paste, making a dessert that’s rich and cool at the same time. Tteok ice cream sandwiches swap out biscuits for chewy rice cake, wrapping up vanilla or matcha ice cream.
Lunch box cakes, or bento cakes, are tiny—just four inches across. They’re topped with light cream and simple decorations. Korean fresh cream cakes stack chiffon sponge with whipped cream and strawberries, and they’re not as sweet as most Western cakes.
Hangwa macarons use Korean cookie dough instead of almond flour, then fill them with honey or pine nut flavors. Dessert cafes in Seoul and Busan serve tteok cakes that look like modern layer cakes, filled with cream and fruit.
International dessert trends land in Korea and come out changed. The dalgona coffee craze in 2020 whipped instant coffee, sugar, and water into a sweet foam poured over cold milk. Social media made it famous worldwide, but now it’s a staple in Korean cafés.
Matcha from Japan pops up in Korean bingsu, macarons, and soft serve. French pastry techniques inspire Korean bakers, but they usually dial back the sugar and add things like sweet potato, chestnut, or black sesame.
Dessert cafés play with seasonal flavors. In autumn, you’ll see persimmon and jujube; in summer, melon and berries take over. These modern spots stick to Korean taste preferences but borrow fancy presentation from international pastry shops.
Korean dessert cafés have popped up in big cities around the world, serving real bingsu and sikhye. Korean markets also carry the basics if you want to make these sweets at home.
Korean dessert cafés aren’t just in Seoul anymore—you’ll spot them across Europe and North America too. Most places focus on bingsu, from classic patbingsu with sweet red beans to new versions with mango or Oreo. Sikhye often comes served chilled alongside the shaved ice.
Street markets in Korean neighborhoods offer the most genuine experience. Vendors fry up hotteok (sweet pancakes), sell bungeoppang (fish-shaped red bean pastries), and serve warm sikhye in the colder months. You can usually find these markets on weekends, and sampling a bunch of desserts in one trip is half the fun.
Korean bakeries stock packaged yakgwa (honey cookies) and injeolmi (rice cakes dusted with roasted soybean powder). They also make fresh twisted doughnuts and sell Korean strawberry milk in grab-and-go cups.
Korean markets carry all the essentials for home dessert making. You’ll want sweet rice flour for rice cakes, azuki beans (canned or dried) for patbingsu, and barley malt powder for sikhye. Condensed milk is a staple in many Korean sweets, and you’ll usually find Korean lemon-lime soda nearby.
Some shops sell bingsu kits with powdered milk ice and toppings. Rice cake molds shape injeolmi and songpyeon, and bungeoppang pans let you make fish-shaped pastries on your stovetop.
Online Korean grocers deliver these ingredients throughout the UK and Ireland. You can find jolly pong (puffed wheat cereal for milkshakes), dalgona candy kits, and ready-to-mix sikhye concentrate that just needs water.
People often wonder about Korean desserts and drinks—what goes in them, how to make them, or where to find the real thing. Here are some answers that might help you get started or experiment at home.
Traditional bingsu starts with finely shaved ice, usually made from water or milk. The ice has to be super thin and fluffy, so it melts instantly in your mouth.
Classic toppings include pat (sweetened red bean paste), which is the go-to choice. Rice cakes (tteok) add a chewy bite. Condensed milk sweetens and adds creaminess.
Modern bingsu often features fresh fruit—strawberries, mangoes, melons. Some versions use injeolmi (roasted soybean powder) for a nutty kick. You’ll also see green tea powder, honey, and chopped nuts pretty often.
Quality really matters here. Korean red beans should cook until soft, then get mashed and sweetened with sugar or honey. Fruit should be ripe and cut small.
To make sikhye, you’ll need cooked sweet rice, malted barley powder (yeotgireum), water, and sugar. Malted barley powder has enzymes that break down rice starches into sugars during fermentation.
First, cook the sweet rice until it’s tender and drain it well. Mix the malted barley powder with warm water (about 60°C) and let it steep for 30 minutes, then strain out the solids.
Pour the malt water over the cooked rice in a big container. Keep the mix at 60°C for 4 to 6 hours. You’ll know it’s ready when the rice grains float.
Strain the liquid and boil it with sugar to taste. Toss a few rice grains back in. Chill before serving, and top with pine nuts or jujube slices if you like.
If you don’t want to fuss with fermentation, Korean grocers sell sikhye powder kits that make things easier but still taste authentic.
Yakgwa are deep-fried wheat cookies soaked in honey syrup. The dough gets its flavor from sesame oil, ginger, and rice wine, and the cookies are shaped like flowers.
Dasik are pressed cakes made with finely ground grains, nuts, or seeds mixed with honey. You’ll find pine pollen dasik and chestnut dasik, each pressed with decorative wooden molds.
Gangjeong are crispy rice puffs coated in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds or bean powder. These are popular for Lunar New Year.
Hwajeon are small pancakes made from glutinous rice flour and topped with edible flower petals like azalea or chrysanthemum. People enjoy these during spring festivals.
Hotteok are sweet pancakes filled with brown sugar, cinnamon, and crushed peanuts. Vendors cook them on griddles until the outside crisps and the inside turns gooey.
Tteok refers to all sorts of rice cakes with different tastes and textures. Songpyeon, for example, are filled with sweet stuff and steamed on pine needles during autumn festivals.
Cafés now serve bingsu topped with things like Oreo crumbs, tiramisu, or cheesecake pieces. Some even use flavored milk ice—matcha, chocolate, or coffee.
Yakgwa shows up in ice cream at trendy Seoul spots. Pastry chefs mix the honey and ginger flavors into soft serve.
Mixologists use sujeonggwa (cinnamon persimmon punch) as a base for cocktails. Its spices go surprisingly well with whisky or rum.
Vendors make hotteok with savory fillings now—cheese, veggies, bulgogi. Some add sweet potato or green tea powder to the dough itself.
Fusion bakeries bake croissant-tteok hybrids, combining flaky French pastry with chewy Korean rice cake. The contrast between the crisp outside and soft inside is pretty fun.
Some cafés deconstruct traditional desserts, serving the parts separately so you can mix and match. You’ll often see this approach with bingsu.
You’ll spot fresh yakgwa, dasik, and hotteok at Korean bakeries in most big cities. These specialty shops usually make everything right there, sticking to old-school methods.
Korean supermarkets keep frozen sections packed with pre-packaged tteok and bingsu ingredients. You’ll also see shelves lined with sweetened red bean paste and roasted soybean powder.
Most Korean restaurants pour sikhye or sujeonggwa after meals, and it’s on the house. In spring, a few places will even serve up hwajeon if you’re lucky.
Café chains—both in Korea and abroad—now roll out modern bingsu all year long. Sulbing and Café Bene, for example, have popped up in a lot of cities outside Korea.
Asian grocery stores tend to carry canned or bottled sikhye. A handful of them even stock malted barley powder if you want to try making it at home.
If you’re hunting for something rare, online retailers can ship Korean ingredients almost anywhere. Some even deliver those hard-to-find specialty desserts.
Korean cultural centres sometimes throw food festivals where you can try traditional sweets. It’s a good chance to sample the real thing and maybe grab some ingredients to take home.
Bori-cha (barley tea) is honestly one of the simplest things you can make. Just grab some roasted barley grains and toss them into a pot of water.
Let them simmer for about 10 minutes. Strain everything and pour the tea hot or cold—totally up to you. If you don’t want to roast barley yourself, Asian grocers usually have pre-roasted stuff on the shelves.
If you’re craving something sweet, hotteok is a classic. You just need plain flour, water, yeast, and a mix of brown sugar, cinnamon, and chopped nuts for the filling.
Let the dough rise for an hour. After that, flatten out pieces of dough, stuff them with the filling, and pan-fry until each one turns golden and crisp.
Dasik is for folks who don’t want to deal with baking. Mix finely ground nuts or seeds with honey until it all sticks together.
Shape the mixture by hand into little discs, or press it into decorative molds if you want to get fancy.
Bingsu is honestly just fun to make. All you need is a bag of ice and a blender that can crush it into fine flakes.
Pile the shaved ice into a bowl. Top it with whatever you like—fresh fruit, condensed milk, or sweetened beans are all solid choices if you’re just starting out.
Yuja-cha (citron tea) couldn’t be easier. Scoop out some preserved yuja (or yuzu) and stir it into hot water.
The preserved fruit usually comes in jars, so you can find it at most Asian markets.
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