Whenever I travel, I land bleary-eyed but ready. I’ve got a Google Map loaded with restaurants recommended by industry friends, bars focused on local specialties (natural wine in Paris, precise cocktails in Tokyo), and if-you-know-you-know coffee shops. But I mostly keep my itinerary open, to riff off what I learn on the ground. When I arrived on Jeju-do, the volcanic island below South Korea, I knew I wanted to eat its famed citrus, fresh mackerel, but most of all Jeju Black pork—and it was this freewheeling agenda that led me to one of the best dishes I’ve had in years, made from the island’s special breed.
These petite pigs have been roaming Jeju since the Goryeo Dynasty (918–1392 C.E.). Decades ago, nearly every local household had its own hairy creature, which functioned as composter, pest control, and food source. Renowned for their nutty-sweet flavor and intense marbling, this pork is up there with acorn-fed Ibérico and succulent Berkshire pigs, the wagyu of pork if you will. They are so prized, and have become so rare, that the Korean government created protections in 2015, categorizing pure-bred Jeju Black pigs as a heritage species. In the years since, the country’s National Institute of Animal Science began breeding Jeju Black pigs with Landrace pigs to create the Nanchukmatdon pig—an even more marbled pork many say is superior to the original and what food lovers seeks out while on Jeju, most commonly in pork belly form.
Sometimes referred to as the Hawai‘i of Korea, Jeju is a frequent domestic destination for Koreans on holiday.
Photo by Red Shuheart/Unsplash
By day four of our trip, my husband and I had devoured Nanchukmatdon char-grilled, dabbed with ssamjang (spicy soybean paste), wrapped in lettuce with tangles of scallions, and in thick chunks that bobbed in nose-clearing kimchi jjigae (stew).
But the most surprising—and satisfying—version came after an extended visit to a coffee shop. We had popped into 중문카페 (Jungmun Cafe) one afternoon and inadvertently got sucked into a coffee omakase. Between pulling espresso shots and blowing citrus juice bubbles for a wobbly, sculptural drink, our barista offered an enthusiastic recommendation: Go to 노고록 (Nogorok) and get the Jeju Black pork gomtang. We were intrigued: We hadn’t seen the bone broth-based dish made with Jeju Black pork anywhere on the island.
That night, we drove to Nogorok, a sliver of a restaurant glowing on a sleepy side street in the city of Seogwipo. Inside, we were greeted by steam and silence as customers, perched like barflies, dug into big metal bowls of soup.
Nogorok is a two-person team, helmed by CEO Ji-Yeon Kim (left) and chef Sung-Yong Yang (right).
Courtesy of Nogorok
Nogorok serves only one thing: gomtang, the exquisitely rich Korean soup conjured from meaty bones, water, and time. Chef Sung-yong Yang and CEO Ji-yeon Kim—a couple and the only two employees—opened their 14-seat restaurant in 2023. While they serve an excellent traditional gomtang with beef, the star dish is the Nanchukmatdon version. Yang and Kim wanted to highlight the breed with the aim of inviting diners to experience the full abundance of the island, not just in ingredients or dishes but in spirit.
Yang spent months picking apart every little detail to get this singular bowl right. He cooks the front legs, a leaner cut but one of the most flavorful parts of the pig, with strictly local ingredients: Jeju radish, onions, mushrooms, and water. They simmer for four hours at precisely 167° to 185° F before Yang strains the liquid several times. To enhance the aroma of the pork, he mixes together two types of rice—Korean Golden Queen III and Koshihikari—and cooks them until plump to layer the bottom of the bowl. Peppers are quick-pickled and served alongside two kinds of kimchi to cut through the meal’s richness. Once you sit down to try the fruit of the chef’s 15-hour days, Yang warms each bowl with a ladleful of hot broth and slices the meat to order, as a way “to preserve the pork essence,” he says.
Nogorok’s gomtang highlights Jeju Black pork and the abundance of the island, featuring all local ingredients.
Photo by Goodcine Photo
When my own meal arrived, I immediately sipped the broth. It was incredibly porky, not in a funky way that most long-simmered pork can be, but clear and delicate, almost floral. I wiggled my chopsticks around a thin shingle of meat and ate it with the pickled peppers. They enlivened and punctuated each bite, like the chorus to a song I hoped would never end. I happily slurped and scooped every morsel into my mouth, only pausing to tell my husband: “This is so good.” He nodded, and we resumed our quiet contemplation. I drank the soup down to the last drop, feeling full in more ways than one.
This made sense months later, when I reached out to Yang via a translator. “Nogorok is a word specific to Jeju,” he explained. “It means this feeling of plentifulness and the luxury of slowing down.” That ethos extends to the restaurant’s marketing: Nogorok has no Instagram presence. Yang and Kim want their customer base to grow naturally instead. When my husband and I chatted with Jeju hospitality industry veterans at a whiskey bar a couple days after our memorable meal, I was surprised to learn they had never heard of the restaurant, never tried their very own Jeju Black pork quite like this, never tasted the best soup I’d ever eaten. It’s a dish that feels like a secret, but it shouldn’t be—and perhaps, it won’t be anymore.
Nogorok is located at 7 Cheonjeyeon-ro 207beon-gil, Seogwipo-si, Jeju-do, South Korea. It is open Tuesdays through Sunday, 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. and 5 p.m. to 8 p.m.
Special thanks to Jinah Rhee, who helped with translation.
