I didn’t plan to write about this place. I just kept going back.
Haejeoksusan (해적수산) sits on a wide, slightly awkward road in Imdong (임동), up in Buk-gu, Gwangju. It’s not the kind of spot you stumble onto. There’s basically nothing around it — and then this one bright sign, lit up at night like it’s daring you to find it.
Haejeoksusan (해적수산)
1F, 14 Geumnam-ro, Buk-gu, Gwangju (광주광역시 북구 금남로 14 1층)
📍 View Haejeoksusan (해적수산) on Google Maps →
The name means “Pirate Fisheries,” more or less. The owner doesn’t look like a pirate, in case you were wondering. He’s actually one of the friendlier restaurant owners I’ve run into in a while, the type who remembers your face on the second visit.
Go for the fish, not the fuss
First thing to know: this is a fish-first place. It feels almost like a seafood market that decided to let you sit down. There are maybe six tables inside, a couple of big tanks by the entrance, and not much in the way of decoration.
If you walk in expecting a parade of free side dishes (the banchan-heavy style some Korean sashimi houses do), you’ll be a little surprised. The owner keeps the starters minimal on purpose. The whole point is the fish, and the fish is the part they don’t cut corners on.
The tanks tell you everything. There’s a fat amberjack swimming around, sometimes a cuttlefish working its tentacles against the glass. Whatever you eat was very recently in there.
A note on prices and paying
The menu board is up on the wall, and a lot of it runs on day’s-catch pricing, especially the live squid. When I called ahead once to check if they had live squid, the answer was “yes, come now” — and that’s the right move here, because they can sell out. One evening I showed up around 6:30 and they were already down to their last few. Heavy rain had muddied the water, the squid hadn’t been biting, and only forty came in that day. So: call first if your heart is set on something specific.
Here’s the practical bit. Card works fine — almost every restaurant in Korea takes cards, and any international card will be fine too. But this place gives a cash (or bank transfer) discount, and the gap is real. Soju and beer were 2,800 won when paying cash. Live squid ran around 14,000 won a piece on the day I went. If you’re paying cash, you save a little on basically everything.
One small heads-up from experience: a friend once got a receipt that didn’t match the menu price on the seabream, and it turned out the portion had come in heavier than a kilo. The food was great and plenty, but ask about weight-based pricing when you order, just so there are no surprises.
What we ate
The free starters are simple — a few small dishes and a mussel soup (honghaptang, 홍합탕) that I genuinely look forward to now. Clean, hot, a little briny. It’s the kind of thing that disappears before the fish even arrives.
Live squid (산오징어회)
This is the one people drive out here for. They bring it out so fresh it’s still got that glassy shine, sliced lengthwise in long ribbons. It’s chewy in the best way — springy, a little sweet the longer you chew.
There’s a house dipping sauce that, honestly, beats the usual chili-vinegar paste. A bit spicy, a lot of savory depth. Squid plus that sauce plus a perilla leaf is the combination I keep coming back to.
Kkaennip makhoe (깻잎막회)
If the squid is the headliner, kkaennip makhoe is the reason locals talk about this place. “Makhoe” is a rough-chopped mixed sashimi — thick-cut fish tossed with shredded perilla leaves, lettuce, and soybean powder. The bean powder is nutty, the greens keep it crunchy, and somehow it all just works. You wrap a bite in perilla, dunk it, and that’s the move.
Everything else, depending on the season
I’ve had a lot of the menu by now, across a few visits.
The winter giant amberjack — they call the really big ones “pig amberjack” (돼지방어) because of the belly girth — was rich and glossy, more marbled and nutty than a regular amberjack. People sometimes avoid amberjack for that fishy edge, but cut-to-order like this, I didn’t get any of that.
The black seabream (감성돔) was a cleaner, leaner counterpoint, and the sea pineapple (멍게, sea squirt) came with a few shucked oysters thrown in on the house.
Cuttlefish (갑오징어) shows up with its ink and trimmings, which sounds intense but tastes clean and a touch sweet. In spring, flounder (도다리) is the one to get. And the flatfish makhoe (광어막회) is generous and nutty — an easy order if you just want a big pile of fish and greens.
When live squid is in, get the mulhoe (물회) too — a cold, sweet-and-tangy raw fish soup. They serve thin somyeon noodles alongside, brushed with sesame oil so they don’t go soft, and the noodles in that cold broth are a perfect match.
How it ends
Two ways to finish, usually. There’s a spicy fish stew (maeuntang, 매운탕) — not a punch-you-in-the-face kind of spicy, more of a warm, MSG-light, clean heat. And there’s a little instant-ramen station for the bbogeuli (뽀글이) ramen, which is exactly the kind of carb you want after a few drinks.
By then someone’s usually pouring another round of soju-and-beer, and the table’s a mess in the good way.
A few notes if you’re coming from abroad
A handful of things I wish someone had told a first-time foreign visitor:
- Paying: Cards are accepted, and international cards work at pretty much any restaurant in Korea, so don’t stress about that. Just know that cash gets you the discount here.
- Tipping: There’s no tipping culture in Korea. You don’t leave a tip, and if you try, the staff will probably be confused rather than pleased. The price you see is the price you pay.
- Spice: That fish stew is “Korean spicy.” It’s not extreme by local standards, but if you’re not used to Korean heat, brace yourself a little — it can read as quite hot to people who didn’t grow up with it.
- Language: English isn’t really spoken here, but it doesn’t matter much. Point at the menu board or the tank, hold up a couple of fingers, and you’ll be fine. Ordering by pointing is completely normal.
The location is a bit of a hassle to get to. I’d still make the trip. There aren’t many places where the fish is this fresh and the owner this easy to talk to, and I already know I’ll be back the next time someone starts singing the live-squid song in my ear.
Location & How to Get There
Haejeoksusan is on Geumnam-ro in Imdong, Buk-gu, Gwangju.
There isn’t much around it, so look for the brightly lit sign by the road.