The Art of Traditional Fermentation in Korea

In the scenic hills of Damyang County, located in South Jola Province, a collection of clay bottles, neatly arranged, sits under the open sky. Within these containers, a remarkable change unfolds, a process that has been ongoing in this region for centuries.

This is the only territory associated with Ki Soon-Do, the Grandmaster of traditional aged soy sauce. For her, patience is not merely a quality but a vital part of her craft.

“You have to try this here,” Ki says, lifting the heavy lid off one of her 1,200 pots. She dips a sardine into a dark liquid, which exudes an intricate aroma. “First, sniff it, then taste the drops.”

The flavor reveals itself gradually—starting salty before transforming into a deeper, almost floral essence. It’s a far cry from the soy sauce found in western grocery stores.

“Traditional Korean soy sauce demands three basic ingredients: soybeans, water, and salt,” Ki explains. “But it also requires care and, most importantly, time. In today’s fast-paced world, people are always rushing. Yet, some things can’t be hurried.”

At 75 years old, Ki represents the 10th generation of her family dedicated to this historical art form. When she married into a respected family at 23, she inherited not just familial obligations but also the traditional fermentation techniques that date back 370 years.

Ki is a traditional Chang master, a term that embodies almost all components of Korean cuisine, especially fermented seasonings like ganjang (soy sauce), dongjang (soybean paste), and gochujang (fermented chili paste). These aren’t just ingredients; they shape the very essence of Korean food.

“Our Jang and Dongjang are akin to the roots of Korea,” Ki asserts confidently. “When discussing Korean food, we inevitably refer to Chang. Without it, we cannot truly call it Korean cuisine.”

What began as a familial duty for Ki has transformed into a mission to safeguard the core of Korean culinary heritage. In December 2024, Ki, along with other traditional makers, received official recognition from UNESCO for their painstaking efforts, formally designating their craft as an intangible cultural heritage of humanity.

Purity Before Production

Unlike mass-produced sauces and pastes, Ki’s method initiates in winter, with boiled soybeans crushed and molded into blocks known as Meju.

These Meju blocks, crafted from crushed soybeans with beneficial bacteria, form the foundation of Korea’s traditional fermenting culture. They are typically hung indoors among rice straw, which fosters unique flavors during fermentation. After around 50 days, they are immersed in saltwater made from bamboo salt, itself derived from baking sea salt at high temperatures.

“The day you boil the Meju must be fortuitous,” she says. “After bathing, we cleanse ourselves and pray before beginning. This dedication is extraordinary, yet our family has observed these rituals for 370 years. That’s simply how it’s done.”

As the blocks ferment, the solid tends to sink, becoming dongjang, while the liquid emerges as ganjang after about a year. The most prized variant is her Jin Jian, aged over five years, which has intrigued top chefs globally, drawing them to her sanctuary.

Her devotion gained traction in 2017, when her 360-year-old “seed sauce,” known as Ssiganjang, caught media attention for being “older than American history.”

Ki also crafts gochujang. In the seventh month of the lunar calendar, she ferments Meju specifically for this paste, combining it with glutinous rice, chili powder, ganjang, and malt syrup. One of her specialties is a unique strawberry gochujang, which utilizes Damyang strawberries to offer a natural sweetness that beautifully balances the heat and saltiness.

Ki assesses the color and aroma of her ganjang through a sensory process she has honed over the years. “I just know when no more flavors will be released,” she shares.

She believes her commitment to traditional fermented foods has positively impacted her health, stating, “I’ve never been hospitalized or needed ongoing medication.” She emphasizes that to achieve happiness, maintaining good health is essential. “We may indulge in fast food today, but fermented foods keep the body well. What could be better?”

These days, Ki collaborates with her family in managing traditional food companies, striving to preserve age-old methods while sharing their legacy more widely. To promote her expertise, Ki founded a fermentation school in 2023.

Concerns for the Future

However, Ki expresses concern about the future of traditional chamake. In previous generations, every Korean household had its own recipe and jar, but now, many reach for factory-made options.

The climate crisis adds another layer of complexity. “Korea used to experience four distinct seasons; now, winters are shorter, springs fly by, and summers drag on,” Ki laments. Heat alters fermentation processes, darkens Doenjang, and accelerates moisture loss, allowing unwanted bacteria to thrive and necessitating adjustments.

“We used to create large Meju blocks, but various bacteria now proliferate,” she notes. “I’ve halved the size of the blocks to speed up fermentation. Additionally, I plant balsam flowers around the pots for shade during summer. As temperatures rise, I might even need to relocate Chang to a cooler area.”

Beyond her personal endeavors, Ki feels connected to a broader initiative aimed at sustaining cultural knowledge amidst an era driven by convenience. The UNESCO recognition honored her deep commitment, but it also came with a sense of responsibility.

As the afternoon light casts shadows over her cherished jars, Ki reflects on her life’s work. “This isn’t just about making soy sauce,” she says. “It’s my destiny to preserve this tradition, and it’s my calling to uphold it.”