In Korean, 술 (sool) simply means "alcoholic beverage" — and refers to everything from soju to sherry, slivovitz to Syrah.
But the word is also used to describe the alcoholic beverages particular to Korea — a diverse array of traditional liquors including makgeolli (takju), soju, yakju and cheongju as well as fruit wines and spirits.
In this sense, sool is an eloquent and evolving expression of place, craftsmanship, and Korean culture through the centuries.
Because Korean liquor has historically been part of food, seasonality, ancestral rites, hospitality, and identity — not simply leisure (although there's always been plenty of fun involved, too) it can tell us a great deal about Korean history itself.
Evidence for brewing in Korea dates back to the ancient Three Kingdoms period (57 BC – 668 CE), although the fermentation and consumption of alcohol certainly goes back much further.
These early liquors varied in flavor and production methods but laid the foundation for Korea’s rich fermentation tradition and even influenced the development of Japan's own sake brewing techniques.
By the Goryeo era (918–1392 CE) , sool had become an integral part of daily life and ceremonial occasions across the social spectrum.
The oldest and most accessible sool was unfiltered rice wine like makgeolli — historically brewed at home and enjoyed by the laboring classes, much like ale or beer in Europe.
Brewing was often a household tradition, passed down through families, and in many contexts closely linked to women’s domestic labor.
Clear rice wines, on the other hand, signaled ceremony and status. Yakju, cheongju, and later soju were often associated with court settings, formal banquets, elite households, and Confucian ancestral rites.
Distillation reached Korea during the Yuan Dynasty (1271–1368) , when the peninsula came under repeated Mongol invasion and tributary rule.
Brought by the Mongols, who had learned the technique from the Persians, distillation later took root in regions such as Andong, where imperial influence and local brewing traditions helped shape the development of Korean soju.
This older soju required grain and technical skill, which meant it was not simply a cheap mass drink. It belonged to a different historical economy of alcohol—one shaped by limited resources, local craft, and regional styles.
"Jumak" (주막,酒幕) tavern scene by painter Kim Hong-do (金弘道), Joseon Dynasty, late 18th century. ⓒNational Museum of Korea.
Three men drinking alcohol, late Joseon Dynasty. ⓒ National Library of Korea.
Drinking culture
"Jusageobaek" (주사거배,酒肆擧盃) tavern scene by Shin Yun-Bok (申潤福), Joseon Dynasty, late 18th century. ⓒ Kansong Art Museum
Late Joseon arrivals
The late Joseon period (1392–1910) continued many of these patterns. Elite households had more variety and refined alcohol, while ordinary people relied on simpler brewed drinks. Brewing knowledge was often passed down through families, and many regional traditions developed their own styles.
Alongside native brews, luxury liquors from China and Japan flowed into Korea. By the 19th century, dining out had become fashionable among Korea’s elite, who enjoyed imported whiskeys, wines, and beers.
Consumption of foreign liquors accelerated after 1876, when Korea was forced to open its ports to the American, Japanese, and European ships.
![A photo of Myeongdong in Seoul during Japanese colonial period (c. 1930s); all the signs are in Japanese and women wearing kimono walk down the street. text at the top of the image reads: view of the famos place, keijyo [sic]](https://framerusercontent.com/images/tQ4CuUc8mBvPUHGlA9b9TBasVCY.webp?width=1587&height=1112)
The commercial center of Myeongdong and Chungmuro in Seoul was known as Honcho-dori (本町通 / 혼마치도리) during the Japanese colonial period. In this photo, all the signs are in Japanese because it was forbidden to use the Korean language on signs, public notices, and street names.
The biggest rupture in this history came during the Japanese colonial period—which officially lasted from 1910 to 1945, though the process of absorption began some years earlier.
Under Japanese rule, the occupational government tightly controlled rice supplies, imposed heavy taxes, regulated production, and effectively outlawed Korean homebrewing.
Even in the language, we can see attempts to erase sool's "Korean-ness."
Historically, cheongju and yakju both referred to clear rice wines. Cheongju literally means “clear wine,” while yakju means “medicinal wine.” Under Japanese rule, colonial authorities redefined cheongju and restricted the use of nuruk in its production. Under the new terms, 'cheongju' essentially applied only to sake made with koji or ipguk (Japanese‑style modified fermentation starter), which was easier to mass‑produce, but it also reduced microbial diversity and simplified flavor.
Small breweries were pushed out of business, and large, (typically Japanese-owned), sake breweries took their place. During this same period, Japanese beer companies opened breweries in occupied Korea, and beer consumption—never a traditional part of Korean drinking culture—was encouraged.
A Korean newspaper ad from the 1930s for Sakuramasamune (櫻正宗) cheongju. ⓒ Heo Shi-myeong
This colonial disruption matters because it did not just regulate alcohol; it interrupted the transmission of knowledge. Brewing was often a household skill, passed from one generation to another, and colonial control damaged that continuity at all ends of the social spectrum. It’s estimated that over 600 recipes for ancestral liquors were lost under Japanese occupation.
The effects were far-reaching. For decades after liberation in 1945, Japanese-style “cheongju” remained the benchmark for quality, overshadowing indigenous sool styles like yakju and marginalizing traditional techniques. And beer consumption still far outpaces that of traditional Korean styles like makgeolli.
So the colonial period changed not only how alcohol was made, but also who controlled it and what it meant.
War and food scarcity
In front of Samsung Butcher Shop at Namdaemun Market, Seoul, 1959 ⓒKorea Copyright Commission
Sadly, the end of the Second World War (WWII) in 1945 and liberation from Japanese occupation did not spell an end to Korea's troubles.
From 1950 to 1953, the US and Soviet-Chinese powers fought a bloody proxy war on Korean soil. It is estimated that 3 million people—mostly civilians—died in the Korean War, a devastating conflict that destroyed every major city on the peninsula and caused severe food shortages that lasted decades.
To alleviate food insecurity, the use of rice in alcohol production was banned from 1963 to 1977. Brewers turned to wheat flour and starches like sweet potato instead, which altered traditional flavors and compromised fermentation quality.
As a result, Korean drinking culture shifted further toward industrial soju, which became the dominant everyday spirit.
Mass-produced soju—the 'green-bottle' kind— is cheap to make and cheap to drink.
In modern Korean dining culture, this soju (which is considerably lower in alcohol than its lofty predecessors) often occupies the same social space as beer or table wine elsewhere: a widely available, shareable drink that goes with grilled meat, late‑night snacks, and 4am karaoke duets alike.
In fact, it is so popular that Jinro Soju has been the best-selling spirit in the world for over two decades.
Yet as commercial beer and soju grew in popularity, traditional Korean brewing practices continued to decline, fading into obscurity for decades.
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However, the history of sool is not only one of disappearance.
Korea is currently experiencing a renaissance of traditional liquor making, spurred by renewed domestic interest, growing international curiosity, and government support.
Small-scale breweries and distilleries have re-emerged, with many producers rejecting industrial shortcuts in favor of flavor complexity, terroir expression, and cultural authenticity.
"Sake is imported and sold at high prices... but our traditional liquor is looked down upon, so it fueled my determination."
– Master Park Hung-sun (Solsongju)
This “new wave” reframes makgeolli, soju, and clear wines from being low‑cost relic into craft beverages with depth, heritage, and culinary flexibility.
You can see this in terminology, too: colloquially, many Koreans still use the terms cheongju and yakju interchangeably, but there is a quiet shift in understanding. Many associate cheongju with sake‑style rice wines, often served at ceremonial occasions, while yakju is more strongly tied to traditional Korean brewing methods.
In the past few years, a new term has emerged: “맑은술” (malgeun‑sool) or “맑은주” (malgeun‑ju) — both meaning “clear wine.” 맑은 is a native Korean word, often used to describe a clear sky or clear water, whereas cheong (청) is of Chinese origin. Some young breweries prefer malgeun‑sool as a category name because it feels more inclusive, modern, and distinctly Korean.
What does sool mean?
For many in the Korean diaspora, sool's emotional and culinary role can be as important as the beverage itself—a sensory link to home and history, fermented aromas, shared table culture, and memories of Korean meals.
At the same time, premium sool is primed for broader international appreciation. As Korean food becomes more visible internationally, traditional drinks follow it into export markets, specialty shops, restaurant pairings, and cocktail menus.
Choi in Berlin offers a refined seasonal menu that combines Korean traditional fermentation with fresh ingredients from Europe. Sool and wine pairings complete the experience.
"Through a seasonal tasting menu, I explore the dialogue between Korea and Europe, creating dishes that are both deeply rooted in tradition and open to new ideas—an expression of time, patience, creativity, and culture."
– Sooyeon Choi (Choi)
Alice Jun of Brooklyn-based Hana Makgeolli and Lee Jun-pyo of Busan's Ggulggeok House celebrate the release of their experimental collab, Everything Makgeolli in August 2025. All images copyright of respective owners.
First thing's first: nuruk.
A defining feature of Korean alcohol fermentation is the use of nuruk (누룩), a traditional fermentation starter that supplies enzymes, yeast, and lactic acid bacteria.
Nuruk — made from wheat, barley, and/or rice — is similar in purpose to the Japanese koji, but incorporates a more varied, wilder microbial ecology that lends Korean liquors an earthy, tangy character of surprising complexity and depth.
Recipes for nuruk vary widely by region, season, and family (some strains are passed down for generations, like cherished heirlooms) with many brewers adding local wild herbs, pine needles, or fruits to theirs.
In a typical process, rice is washed (and washed again and again, until the water runs clear), soaked, steamed, and cooled.
This rice is then mixed with nuruk and water to make a starter mash called mitsool (밑술) so that fermentation can begin.
Next, brewers may add more steamed rice and water in one or more rounds, called dotsool (덧술), to build up sugar, alcohol, and flavor. A single addition produces danyangju, two additions produce iyangju, and three additions produce samyangju. This stepwise feeding is what lets the ferment develop more complexity than a one-shot mash.
Botanicals may be added during fermentation to build flavor directly into the mash, or after fermentation as an infusion, depending on whether the producer wants a more rustic takju-style profile or a cleaner yakju-style finish.
After fermentation, the mash is pressed or strained.
This unfiltered liquid is takju, a cloudy rice wine with suspended rice sediment. Makgeolli is a lighter style of takju, usually made by diluting the finished mash with more water before bottling.
To obtain yakju (약주) or cheongju (청주), the unfiltered rice wine is allowed to settle. As it does, it naturally separates: rice sediment at the bottom, clear liquid to the top.
Many versions of takju and yakju are still alive after bottling, so they continue to ferment slowly in the package. That is why fresh saeng makgeolli (생막걸리) can have an extremely short window of peak freshness—as little as 1-2 weeks from bottling — and require refrigeration from the brewery to the glass.
For export or longer shelf life, some producers now use low-temperature pasteurization to slow or stop microbial activity and reduce over-carbonation. This makes the drink more stable, but it can also soften some of the lively, fresh, or wild character.
Traditional soju is made by distilling a fully fermented rice mash, usually after a yakju- or takju-like fermentation. In older methods, the mash was heated in an earthenware pot still called sojutgori (소줏고리) and the vapor condensed into a clear spirit.
This is very different from modern diluted soju, which is made from neutral alcohol rather than distilled rice mash.
If not already added during fermentation, botanicals such as herbs, berries, and fruits may be added after, either by macerating them in distilled soju or infusing them into yakju.
Yakju, cheongju, and traditional soju may then be aged longer—often at cool temperatures or in onggi—to soften alcohol, harmonize starter-derived aromatics, and allow flavors to knit together.
