한국 음식이 항상 이렇게 맵지는 않았다. 매운맛 상승의 비결

Why it feels like shamans are everywhere in Korea

From mild kick to comfort of pain, stress and commercialization behind Korea’s heat

When stress hits at work, Kang Hye-mee’s discipline collapses.

The 33-year-old office worker usually eats carefully. Breakfast is a salad, sometimes a protein shake. Health matters to her. Self-control matters.

But on difficult days, she reaches for something else entirely: extra-spicy tteokbokki.

Her tongue burns. She sweats. Her stomach protests. She has even developed gastritis. Yet the discomfort feels strangely comforting. It feels like relief.

“I tell myself I should stop, but more often than not, I don’t,” she said. “At least three times a week, I crave something fiery. I don’t drink alcohol or have other indulgences. For me, spicy food has become my outlet.”

A country that eats red

Chilis appear in recipes across the world, but Korean food stands out for the unmistakable pepper-induced red of so many of its dishes.

Kimchi stew. Budae-jjigae. Dak-galbi. Braised seafood. Stir-fried squid. Instant ramen. The list seems endless.

Yet Korea’s relationship with chili peppers is surprisingly recent. According to historians, chili peppers arrived on the peninsula only about 400 years ago. As rice production rose in the 18th century, it became a more common staple. The demand for flavorful side dishes grew along side this, and chili peppers became central to that role.

Even then, the spiciness of the past is not the spiciness of today.

Historically, Korean cuisine leaned toward a gentle, savory heat meant to enhance flavor. Modern Korean spice often borders on pain.

“My wife and I avoid Korean food when we eat out,” said Hong Hyun-kyu, 38. “We call ourselves maepjjiri.” The slang term refers to people with little tolerance for spicy food.

“The level of spiciness today is not what I used to enjoy when I was younger,” Hong said. “When I was a child, Korean food had just a mild kick, enough to add flavor. Now, wherever I go, it’s too spicy to eat.”

The maepjjiri couple often ask restaurant staff whether a dish is spicy. If the answer is “a little spicy,” they give up.

“When Koreans say something is ‘a little spicy,’ it usually means it’s very spicy for us,” Hong said.

“I don’t know what happened to Korean food in recent years,” he said.

Business as driver

The shift, experts say, is partly economic.

The early 2000s marked a turning point, with dishes like fire chicken, ultra-spicy tteokbokki and extreme ramen reshaping Korea’s spice landscape.

“Companies have sought differentiation to attract more consumers,” said Lee Eun-hee, a consumer science professor at Inha University.

“To stand out, flavors became bolder, stronger and more extreme. Social media amplified novelty and shock value, and spicier products gained attention and loyal followings.”

In the instant noodle industry, the Scoville Heat Unit (SHU), a measure of capsaicin concentration, has steadily climbed, reflecting Korea’s growing appetite for extreme spice.

Shin Ramyun, one of Nongshim’s best-selling spicy instant noodles, measured about 2,900 SHU before 2017. Today, its spiciness has increased to roughly 3,400 SHU.

Samyang’s Buldak Bokkeum Myeon, often credited with redefining Korea’s ultra-spicy noodle trend after its launch in 2012, registers about 4,404 SHU.

More extreme products have followed. Shin Ramyun Red reaches 7,500 SHU, as does Ottogi's Yeol Ramyun. Paldo’s Teumsae Ramyun Red Tteokbokki version pushes the heat further, at around 10,000 SHU.

According to industry data, cumulative sales of Teumsae Ramyun Red Tteokbokki have reached 240 million units as of last year.

The trend is also reflected in retail figures. One major convenience store chain reported that sales of 10 spicy instant noodle products, defined as those with a Scoville rating above 3,040 SHU, including Buldak Bokkeum Myeon, Shin Ramyun Red and Yeol Ramyun, have surged 98.8 percent over the past three years.

Young consumers are driving the boom. People in their 20s and 30s accounted for 67.5 percent of total sales of spicy noodles.

Stress as a driver

But supply alone does not explain the trend.

Another powerful driver is stress.

“On weekends or during vacations, I usually eat healthy food,” said a 41-year-old IT engineer Yoo Sung-hee in Seoul. “But strangely, once I leave work, I start craving spicy food. Searching for spicy chicken feet or spicy jjamppong on the subway home has become almost a routine.”

“At home, sitting on the couch, watching comedy shows while eating spicy chicken feet with rice balls is my only way to release stress,” she said.

In a society shaped by long work hours, fierce competition and constant pressure, spicy food offers something immediate and accessible, a fast, affordable emotional release. Many describe it as a momentary sense of relief, a feeling that stress is briefly burned away.

There is a biological explanation behind that sensation.

Capsaicin, the compound responsible for chili peppers’ heat, activates pain receptors in the mouth. The brain interprets this as pain, even though no physical injury occurs, and responds by releasing endorphins — chemicals associated with pleasure and pain relief. That chemical response is why spicy food can feel addictive.

This helps explain why spicy food consumption has often surged during difficult economic times. During the 1997-98 Asian financial crisis, sales of spicy ramen jumped sharply. Similar patterns emerged during the 2008 global financial crisis and the European debt crisis in the early 2010s.

Recent data suggests the pressure remains widespread. According to a survey released in May last year by Seoul National University’s Graduate School of Public Health, more than half of Koreans were found to be in a “prolonged state of anger.” Some 47.1 percent said they had experienced stress severe enough to affect their health over the past year, while 54.9 percent reported ongoing emotional distress.

But mental health specialists warn that the relief is short-lived.

Noh Sung-won, a professor of psychiatry at Hanyang University Hospital, said indicators such as stress tolerance, physical tension and activation of the sympathetic nervous system actually worsen after eating spicy food.

“People may feel better momentarily,” said Noh Sung-won, “but the body’s ability to cope with stress declines. Spicy food distracts the brain from stress only briefly by triggering pain.”