First, there's something we shouldn't bother denying. It's true that interest in Korea and accessibility to Korean culture have skyrocketed. Movies, dramas, and music aren't limited by space. As long as you have fingers, a phone, and a bit of cash, you can access them anywhere. But how are people living in the US reacting to the 'physical' side of Korea—the stuff you have to touch and eat, not just see over a LAN line? Sure, the number of non-Koreans visiting Koreatowns in places like LA or NYC, where Koreans are concentrated, has probably increased. You go there and you've got the food, the music, the fashion—the whole package. But if we limit it to K-food, are people in non-metropolitan areas actually seeking it out and enjoying it? To be real, I'd have to say not quite. Even in a place like Atlanta's Koreatown, which isn't NY or LA, you can spend the whole day without speaking a word of English. They have every category of Korean food (K-BBQ, gukbap, bunsik, noodles), and the popular spots have lines out the door. But are these places trying to expand into areas where there are only a few thousand Koreans but millions of Americans? From what I know, almost zero. Actually, consider it non-existent. Specialized spots for Naengmyeon, K-BBQ, or Gukbap are rare. If you go to a Korean restaurant in a mid-sized city, the setup is always the same: they sell everything from cold noodles to meat to soup to dumplings in one place. There might be maybe five such places in a city of 1.5 million. Is it because K-food is inherently hard to spread in the US due to its unique 'banchan' (side dish) culture? Recently, an interesting phenomenon has been happening. Below is a map of 'Tous Les Jours' locations—the perpetual #2 bakery in Korea.

They are aggressively expanding into the US Midwest, where the Korean population is sparse. They've opened in Oklahoma, Tennessee, Iowa, Nebraska, and Kansas, and they keep pushing into the Midwest. They don't put 'Korean' on the sign, but those who know, know. From what I've heard through the grapevine, business is absolutely booming. 80% of the customers are non-Koreans. They weren't targeting Koreans to begin with. Another interesting example of business expansion is 'Bonchon,' the US version of Korean seasoned chicken. Their strategy is similar to Tous Les Jours. Look at their store map.

Lately, they've been focusing on opening new spots in the South and Midwest where the Korean population is maybe in the low thousands at best. The word on the street is that they've never seen an American (White, Black, Hispanic, Middle Eastern, Asian—everyone) who hates Korean-style seasoned chicken. Once they open a shop, success is basically guaranteed. Kansas City has the famous Chiefs and a metro population of 2 million; St. Louis has the Cardinals and 2.5 million people, but in St. Louis, you can count the 'good Korean spots' on one hand. Honestly, do you think a specialized Naengmyeon or Gukbap place would survive there? Not anytime soon. Yet, K-chicken and K-bakeries are moving in and hitting the jackpot. So, you could ask: are K-chicken and K-bakeries actually 'K-food'? I don't know the answer. But one thing is clear—the way Americans seek out Korean food is a 'bottom-up' trend. It’s stuff you can just grab and eat, and in Bonchon's case, you can order via app for takeout or dine-in. In other words, it has to be accessible and the menu has to be simple. In the food industry, this is what's happening. And for frozen foods, Bibigo is displayed and sold like this in Krogers and Costcos across the country.

I love those dumplings, and they're one of my kids' favorites. But it doesn't say 'Korean Mandu' anywhere on the package. Sure, people who know will know Bibigo is a Korean company, but most Americans couldn't care less. Some might wish that interest in Korea would lead people to dive into stinky Cheonggukjang or visually intense Soondae-guk, but in reality, the sales are coming from fast-food style items and frozen goods. Personally, I think this is a good thing. Not every country's traditional food needs to be loved in small-town America. You just have to look at the market characteristics and sell what works. Soondae-guk is one of my all-time favorites, but I'm not salty that there isn't a Soondae-guk shop in my neighborhood like there are Japanese ramen shops. Food doesn't have a hierarchy. My only regret is that most of the franchisees opening these Tous Les Jours and Bonchons in mid-sized US cities aren't actually Korean. It’s worth thinking about who is actually raking in the cash.
"The community is debating whether K-chicken and bakeries count as 'real' K-food while collectively groaning over the 'insane' $50 price tags for fried chicken and $40 small cakes in the US. Some are happy about the accessibility, while others think we're overhyping the 'K-' label."
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