In Yongin, Eat Your Meat Thick, Not Thin

Ask anyone who's eaten their share of meat in Yongin, and they'll tell you one thing that separates the locals: here, meat isn't sliced thin. Not the neatly stacked strips of daepae samgyeopsal you'd find at the mart, the kind that cooks through and vanishes the second it hits the grill. We're talking about raw meat cut thick, about two finger-joints thick, seared golden on the outside while the inside stays moist, then sliced into hearty chunks to eat. This is what Yongin locals call 'geun-gogi,' meat sold by the geun, and today Yongi, who's watched over downtown Yongin for five hundred years, is going to break it all down for you properly.

So What Exactly Is Geun-gogi?

Let's start with the name. 'Geun' is a unit of weight, one geun of meat is usually about 600 grams. So geun-gogi isn't meat sold off in small gram-by-gram portions, it's raw meat ordered generously by the geun. The key is thick-cut, never-frozen raw pork. Many say the culture originally came up from Jeju Island, thick-sliced Jeju black pork grilled over charcoal briquettes made its way to the mainland, and these days you'll spot 'Jeju geun-gogi' signs all over the country. Downtown Yongin has plenty of these spots too. Walk around the cafe street near Bojeong-dong or the restaurant alley near Sujigucheong Station, and you won't have to look far to find a barbecue place proudly flying the 'Jeju geun-gogi' banner.

There's something about Yongin as a city that just fits with geun-gogi. New town development brought in waves of young families, and with all the companies and research complexes around, there's steady demand for company dinners too. This isn't a meal that wraps up after a few thin slices, it's four or five people gathered around, ordering generously by the geun and sharing. A thick hunk of meat snipped into big pieces with scissors, set on everyone's plate, a spoonful of doenjang jjigae on the side, and everyone lingering at the table a good long while. That's how geun-gogi wove itself naturally into the meat culture of Yongin and southern Gyeonggi, not meat you sear fast, but meat you cook slow and eat long.

The Science of Juice That Thickness Makes

So why cut it thick on purpose? The answer is in the juice. Slice meat thin and you increase the surface area, so the moment it touches the fire, moisture escapes fast. Within seconds the outside is charred through and the inside dries out too. Cut it thick, though, and the surface sears golden first, trapping the juices inside. The outside picks up that smoky char and turns savory, while the inside stays moist. That contrast is the real charm of geun-gogi. Bite in and you get the crisp outside, the tender inside, and a rush of juice with every chew, all at once. It's a texture thin-cut meat simply can't deliver.

Grilling it well takes some skill, though. Thicker cuts take longer, and flipping too often too soon lets the juices escape. That's why at most geun-gogi places, a staff member comes to the table and grills it for you. They lay the thick cut on the grill, let one side cook through, flip it, and once it's golden, snip it into bite-sized pieces with scissors. All you have to do is wait and grab a piece the moment it hits peak deliciousness. This 'they-grill-it-for-you' service is another reason geun-gogi spots feel so easy, no one has to break off mid-conversation to fuss over the fire. And at places that grill over charcoal briquettes, that extra layer of smoky aroma makes the seared crust even more savory.

A Spread of Sides as Important as the Meat

A geun-gogi meal isn't complete with meat alone. You need the right sides to back up the rich flavor of thick-cut raw pork before it truly becomes a full spread. The essential one is doenjang jjigae, bubbling away in its own stone pot. After a few bites of rich, fatty meat, a spoonful of that savory, salty soybean stew hits the spot every time. Add a fresh bowl of rice, and suddenly it doesn't feel like a barbecue joint anymore, it feels like a properly set Korean table. Crisp kimchi, scallion salad, lettuce, and ssamjang round it out. Wrap a thick slice of meat in lettuce with a clove of garlic and a dab of ssamjang, and that one big wrap is a meal in itself.

Ordering gyeranjjim, steamed egg, as a side is another common sight at Yongin geun-gogi spots. The puffy, pillowy steamed egg in its own stone pot is a hit with kids especially, so in a family-heavy city like Yongin, it's rarely left off the table. Spooning up gyeranjjim while the meat grills, mixing rice into the doenjang jjigae, adding a bit of kimchi, that unhurried rhythm is exactly why a geun-gogi meal tends to run long. Even after finishing off a whole cut of meat, you can still round things out properly with rice and stew, which makes it a solid pick whether it's a company dinner or a family outing.

What Kind of Occasion Does It Suit?

Geun-gogi isn't a solo meal. Sold in hefty geun portions, it really shines when a group gathers around to share. That makes it a great fit for family outings or company dinners. Families with kids can cut the thick meat into smaller pieces, and gyeranjjim and doenjang jjigae cover the kids' tastes too. For a work dinner, order a generous number of geun, pile the grill high, and let the staff handle the grilling while you keep the conversation going. No frantic flipping like with thin-cut meat, it's perfect for a table where glasses are clinking and stories are flowing. If the place is near downtown Yongin's restaurant alley or cafe street, you can round off the meal with a coffee or a stroll nearby afterward.

If it's your first time, my advice is to hold back on ordering too much upfront. Geun-gogi portions are generous, so match the geun count to your group size and add more if you need it. Rather than ordering a mountain of meat all at once and letting it cool on the grill, it's better to eat it hot, geun by geun, fresh off the fire, that's how you really get the magic of the thickness. Thick-cut meat loses its charm fast once it cools and the fat firms up. The moment the outside turns golden and one snip of the scissors reveals a hint of juice, that's the exact moment to pop it in your mouth. That's Yongin geun-gogi at its very best.

🐉 A Mood Photo, via Yongi