It is surprisingly difficult to describe jeon as a single Korean dish. Kimchi mixed into flour batter and pan-fried into a large kimchijeon is called jeon, but so is a slice of zucchini lightly coated with flour and egg. Pajeon may be made with long green onions spread across the pan, while fish, meat, perilla leaves, and other ingredients can be cooked one piece at a time.
The occasions are just as varied. On a rainy day, people may think of pajeon and makgeolli. During Seollal or Chuseok, families often prepare several kinds of jeon at once. And when there is well-fermented kimchi in the refrigerator, kimchijeon can simply be something easy to make at home.
That is how I remember jeon too. I have met friends for jeon on rainy days many times, while holiday memories are filled with the smell of different jeon cooking one batch after another in the kitchen. To me, jeon is less one specific food than a collection of familiar Korean food experiences.
Jeon and Buchimgae Are Not Always Clearly Separated
Jeon is often translated into English as “Korean savory pancake,” but that does not fully describe what appears on a Korean table.
Kimchijeon and buchujeon, made with chives, usually have ingredients mixed into a batter before being spread across a pan. Pajeon is similar, although long green onions may be arranged first and batter poured around them. Foods like these are also commonly called buchimgae.
Other kinds look very different. Hobakjeon is made by coating individual zucchini slices with flour and egg. Dongtaejeon uses pieces of pollock, while yukjeon uses thin slices of beef. Holiday cooking often involves preparing many of these individual pieces one after another.
In everyday Korean speech, jeon and buchimgae are not always separated by a strict culinary rule. The names can overlap depending on the dish, household, and region.
A soy-based dipping sauce with vinegar or other seasonings is often served with jeon, especially with individually fried pieces. But it is not required for every type. Kimchijeon, for example, already has plenty of flavor on its own.
I also write more about traditional Korean Fermented Sauces Ganjang, Doenjang and Gochujang.
Jeon Has Been Eaten in Many Forms for a Long Time
Korea has a long history of foods cooked on a hot pan with oil, but there was never just one type of jeon that developed in a straight line.
One old example is hwajeon, made by placing edible flowers such as azalea petals on glutinous rice dough and pan-frying it. Hwajeon was associated with seasonal spring outings, and records of the custom go back to the Goryeo period. During the Joseon era, women also gathered for spring outings known as hwajeon nori, where they made flower cakes, ate together, sang, and enjoyed time outdoors.
Court cuisine developed dishes in which meat, fish, or vegetables were coated with flour and egg before being fried, while ordinary households also made foods such as mung-bean bindaetteok and other batter-based dishes. The modern word jeon therefore covers foods with quite different histories and techniques.
The availability of wheat flour also changed everyday cooking in modern Korea. After the Korean War, imported wheat became much more common, and during the 1960s and 1970s the government encouraged flour-based foods as part of efforts to reduce rice consumption. Jeon itself was much older, but flour became a far more familiar ingredient in everyday Korean cooking during this period.
That long history is one reason Korean jeon is difficult to reduce to one representative pancake.
Why Koreans Think of Jeon When It Rains
In Korea, rainy weather and jeon have a connection that still feels very natural. I have often had conversations with friends that ended with something like, “It’s raining. Should we go eat jeon?”
There are several explanations for this association. One familiar story says that the sound of rain resembles the sizzling sound of batter hitting an oiled pan. Another connects the custom with agricultural life, when rainy days made outdoor work difficult and people stayed home and cooked with ingredients they already had.
I do not think we need one definitive explanation. What matters more is that the association is still alive. Korea Tourism Organization also introduces rainy-day jeon as a familiar Korean food habit and notes the traditional pairing with makgeolli.
Makgeolli, a traditional unfiltered rice wine, has long been a familiar drink to have with pajeon and other jeon. Not everyone drinks it, of course, and Koreans do not automatically eat pajeon whenever it rains. Still, the phrase “pajeon and makgeolli on a rainy day” is something almost any Korean will immediately understand.
When a jeon restaurant is crowded on a wet evening, the connection between food and weather feels less like a cultural theory and more like an ordinary part of life.
Holidays Meant Making Several Kinds of Jeon
In my memories of Seollal and Chuseok, we did not usually make just one kind of jeon. Hobakjeon, dongtaejeon, and donggeurangttaeng were among the kinds that could be prepared, and every family had its own combination.
The kitchen smelled of oil for a long time before the holiday meal. Each piece had to be coated, placed in the pan, watched while it cooked, removed, and replaced by the next batch. When many varieties were prepared, it could take quite a while.
Holiday cooking has changed in many families. Households are smaller, some families simplify ancestral rites, and it is now common to buy prepared jeon from traditional markets, supermarkets, or side-dish shops instead of making large quantities at home. Even families that still cook may prepare fewer varieties than they once did.
In my family, leftover holiday jeon could be reheated the next day, but we also used it in jeon-jjigae. The remaining pieces went into a pot with kimchi and other ingredients and became a completely different dish once they absorbed the broth.
I sometimes looked forward to that jeon-jjigae after the holiday itself. When a large amount of food had been prepared, finding another way to eat the leftovers was simply part of the household routine.
Jeon at Home and Jeon at the Market Feel Different
Jeon made at home is often connected with family meals or holidays, while traditional markets offer another side of the food.
Gwangjang Market in Seoul is especially well known for mung-bean bindaetteok. Soaked mung beans are ground into a batter, mixed with ingredients such as sprouts and meat, and fried on large griddles with a generous amount of oil. Compared with a thin kimchijeon or small pieces of hobakjeon, it is thick, substantial, and almost feels like a different category of food.
Around Gongdeok Market, there are also shops where customers can choose among many different kinds of jeon. Fish, stuffed peppers, perilla leaves, meat patties, and other varieties can be bought together rather than prepared one by one at home.
Seeing market jeon makes the limitation of the English word “pancake” especially clear. Sometimes the batter is the main part of the dish; sometimes the fish, meat, or vegetable inside it matters much more. The cooking method, shape, and occasion can all be different.
Jeon Is Still Close to Everyday Korean Life
Jeon is not a special luxury food. Its form simply changes depending on the occasion. I have eaten pajeon with friends on rainy evenings, watched many different jeon being prepared before holidays, and made kimchijeon at home when there was well-aged kimchi available.
The way people prepare it is changing. Fewer families spend an entire day making large quantities of holiday jeon, and buying a few varieties from a market or side-dish shop has become completely normal. But jeon itself has not disappeared from everyday life.
There is still kimchijeon or buchujeon that can be made quickly at home, hobakjeon and dongtaejeon on holiday tables, and hot bindaetteok coming straight off a market griddle.
That is why showing a foreign visitor one photograph of pajeon does not really explain Korean jeon. Under the same name are foods made casually at home, foods prepared for holidays, foods associated with rainy evenings with friends, and foods eaten immediately from a traditional market stall.
About the Author 🇰🇷
I live in South Korea and write about the small details of Korean life and culture that I experience and observe firsthand.
English is my second language, so I sometimes use tools such as Gemini and Google Translate to help with translation and editing. The experiences, observations, opinions, and cultural perspectives in my articles are my own, and I personally review and edit every article before publishing it.
My goal with Korea Core Info is simple: to share everyday Korea from a local perspective and help international readers discover things they might not always find in a typical travel guide.
I hope my stories and guides help you understand Korea a little better — not just as a place to visit, but as a place where people live their everyday lives.