Wonjo Sutbul Dakbulgogi in Chuncheon: A TV-Famous Hit
Recently, there's a TV show I didn't just enjoy, but actually tuned in to watch live—a rarity in my life. It's called Dictionary of Useless Knowledge. I wished it aired two or three times a week, but it was only on once, and after a few trips, it just ended. It was such a great show, but the ones you really love always seem to end too soon.
Anyway, the charm of this show is the endless, flowing chatter of guys in their 50s. Among them is food critic Hwang Gyo-ik (Mr.? Sir? I wasn't sure what title to use, but he's a public figure, so I guess I can skip it), who shares incredibly interesting food stories. Rather than narrowly praising specific restaurants, he offers broad, regional food histories in a diverse and easy-to-understand conversational format. The problem is, watching it makes you think, "I absolutely have to go there."
The restaurant I visited today is one of those places I jotted down while watching TV, thinking, "Oh, I definitely need to check that out." It's a spot that's already been featured at least once on almost every food-related TV program in Korea. On top of that, the name is quite unique: Wonjo Sutbul Dakbulgogi-jip (Original Charcoal Grilled Chicken Bulgogi). It's not named after a person; "Original [Food Name]" is just a literal description of the dish. Beyond just giving off famous-restaurant vibes, the name itself radiates a confident "come if you dare" energy.
Plus, it's called dakbulgogi (chicken bulgogi) instead of the usual dakgalbi (spicy stir-fried chicken). Hwang Gyo-ik explained this on the show: between the two names, dakgalbi won out, and dakbulgogi became obsolete. Despite that, this place still uses dakbulgogi. You can feel the owner's stubborn pride, and it makes you wonder just how delicious it must be for them to do things so differently from everyone else.




Now the meat arrived, and it was time to dig in. Just in case it wasn't good, I only ordered one portion of each, planning to go eat some delicious makguksu (buckwheat noodles) somewhere else if it failed. Because it's a charcoal grill, you have to constantly change the grate and keep flipping the meat so it doesn't stick or burn, but it's completely worth the effort. We were chatting away while grilling, but the moment it was fully cooked, a sudden silence fell as we focused entirely on eating. Even sitting in front of a charcoal fire on a sweltering heatwave day where people are practically passing out, it's so good that it makes you keep ordering more with the discipline of a monk in training. It might feel unfamiliar since it's not the typical iron pan stir-fried dakgalbi you usually think of, but once you take a bite, you can easily polish off two portions.
Most places use incredibly strong seasoning to mask the gamey smell of the chicken, but I don't know what magic they worked here—the seasoning isn't overpowering at all, making it really easy to eat. Instead of being spicy, it has a noticeable sweetness, likely balanced with sugar. But for someone like me with a "baby palate" accustomed to sweet flavors, it was absolutely perfect. Seeing the incredibly diverse age range at other tables, from teens to people in their 70s and beyond, it doesn't seem like people only eat it for the sweetness. Whatever the reason, that meat is truly delicious.






Going to restaurants featured on TV is usually a hit or miss, but this place was an absolute, total hit.