Jang, A Legacy of Love

Recently, Korea’s traditional culture of making Jang was recognized as the country’s 23rd entry on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list. More than a culinary tradition, jang embodies the essence of Korean life, connecting generations through flavors and stories.

Making jang is a practice that contrasts with Korea’s modern reputation for being fast-paced, known as ppali-ppali. It requires patience and trust in the passage of time. From three simple ingredients—fermented soybean blocks (meju), salt, and water—jang transforms through the rhythms of nature. Sunlight, wind, and air shape each batch into something unique. No two jang are ever the same. Even in the same household, its flavor changes each year, shaped by the subtle variations of the seasons.

These are the basic jangs of Korean cuisine: doenjang (soybean paste), gochujang (red pepper paste), and ganjang (soy sauce), shown from left to right. These jangs are inseparable from Korean food and culture, as they are deeply ingrained in everyone's palate.

Today, making jang at home has become rare. Urban living and the convenience of factory-made alternatives have made homemade jang uncommon. Yet jang remains central to Korean kitchens. Every refrigerator holds at least three essential types: Ganjang (soy sauce), doenjang (soybean paste), and gochujang (red pepper paste).

The Korean dining table begins with these jangs. This trio are the foundation of a family’s culinary identity. Passed down from grandmothers to mothers to daughters, jang carries a family’s history. To taste a household’s jang is to experience its story.

Naengyi Doenjang Jjigae (Soybean Soup with Shepherd's Purse), made with my mother's recipe. This hearty soup welcomes all kinds of seasonal ingredients.

Jang is more than an ingredient. It carries the taste of family, of home, of a mother’s love. In every household, jang has a distinct color and flavor, known only to those who share it. No one else can replicate its exact taste. Over time, this flavor becomes etched into memory. As we grow older, we find ourselves longing for it. What we truly miss is not just the food but the love and care that made it. This love, passed through jang, is increasingly rare in today’s world. Its absence makes it all the more precious—a treasure crafted with devotion offered only to those closest to the heart.

Beautiful Jangdok jars stand in rows. These vessels, known as Onggi, are perfectly paired with jang as they provide ideal storage conditions. The breathable onggi comes in different sizes and shapes.

Though Jangdok (traditional onggi jars) have disappeared from most homes, jang continues to flavor every meal and connect modern lives to timeless traditions. Even when following a mother’s recipe exactly, the taste of her doenjang-jjigae cannot be recreated. It is not the recipe but the jang itself that holds the essence of home.

Historically, jang was not just a household treasure but also a royal one. During the Joseon Dynasty, royal palaces had dedicated storage facilities called Janggo to preserve jang. Managing these precious ingredients was such an important responsibility that a dedicated attendant was entrusted with overseeing the process. Today, a restored janggo can be seen at Gyeongbokgung Palace, a quiet but powerful reminder of jang’s cultural significance.

Janggo at Gyeongbok Palace. The head lady of the Janggo opened every jar in the morning and closed them again at night. Most palaces had at least two janggo to store their precious jang.

Jang is the ultimate embodiment of care and devotion. From fermenting meju to salting, storing, and waiting, every stage requires time and heartfelt dedication. Jang is not simply a fermented food. It is a masterpiece of tradition, carrying the memories, love, and identity of the Korean people.