If you visit Miryang and only have time for one bowl, my pick is always dwaeji-gukbap — Korean pork soup with rice. Busan’s milky white version gets all the attention, but Miryang’s clear, lighter style has a charm of its own. On my latest trip I finally made it to Jeilsikdang, a small shop tucked into Susanjungang-ro in Hanam-eup.
It’s well known to locals since being featured on cartoonist Heo Young-man’s TV show Baekban Travels, but the place has the kind of quiet, lived-in feel that only a thirty-year-old neighborhood spot can pull off.
Quick info
- Address: 41 Susanjungang-ro, Hanam-eup, Miryang, Gyeongsangnam-do
- Phone: +82-55-391-2724
- Hours: 11:00–20:00 daily (closes earlier if ingredients run out)
- Closed: First and third Tuesday of each month
- Parking: No private lot; use side alleys or the Nonghyup parking area behind the building
📍 View Jeilsikdang (제일식당) on Google Maps →
Evenings can be quiet enough that the owner sometimes wraps up around 7 p.m., so if you’re planning a late dinner, a quick phone call ahead is a good idea.
A fun detail: the Jeil Barber Shop right next door is run by the owner’s husband. The couple even installed a tiny window between the two shops so they can keep an eye on each other while working. Once you know that, every little nook inside the restaurant starts to feel warmer.
Getting there
The shop is about a five-minute walk from Susan Bus Terminal. The red-brick exterior could be easy to miss, but the sign with Heo Young-man’s smiling face acts as a perfect landmark.
Because there’s no dedicated parking, I was a little nervous at first, but you’ll find plenty of free street parking one block behind the building. On days when the local Nonghyup branch is closed, the owner says you’re welcome to use their lot too.
A bright yellow sign on the side wall lets you know every dish is available for takeout — soup in medium (20,000 KRW) or large (30,000 KRW) portions. I saw quite a few neighbors picking up bowls to bring home.
The nearby parking lot looks like this. Head toward the Nonghyup building and you’ll find it easily.
📍 View Jeilsikdang (제일식당) on Google Maps →
Stepping into a true neighborhood institution
There’s no fancy interior — just an honest, weathered space that has clearly been loved for decades. The front hall has about five tables, and another six or so sit deeper inside through an arched doorway.
Lunchtime fills the place with elderly regulars and family groups, so I’d recommend coming a little before noon or after the rush if you’d rather not wait.
In the middle of the room stands a cast-iron coal stove that has clearly seen a few winters. Regulars say the seat next to it is the prize during cold months.
A small window into the kitchen lets you peek at pots and ladles polished smooth by three decades of use.
On the wall, a framed handwritten note from cartoonist Heo Young-man reads roughly:
Does it matter whether Busan’s pork soup came first, or Miryang’s?
Don’t bother arguing.
Soup tastes best when it’s piping hot.
That single line really does warm up the whole room. Just above it, a still from the TV episode hangs proudly.
Right next to the kitchen doorway, you’ll spot a small notice listing takeout prices and the matbogi suyuk (sampler boiled pork) option for 10,000 KRW.
Menu and prices
The menu is short and focused, which is exactly what you want from a pork soup specialist.
- Dwaeji-gukbap (pork soup with rice): 9,000 KRW
- Naejang-gukbap (offal soup): 9,000 KRW
- Seokeo-gukbap (mixed pork and offal): 9,000 KRW
- Ttaro-gukbap (rice and soup served separately): 10,000 KRW
- Dwaeji-guksu (pork noodle soup): 8,000 KRW (lunch only)
- Bibimbap: 6,000 KRW
- Matbogi suyuk (sampler boiled pork): 10,000 KRW
- Dwaeji suyuk (boiled pork platter): 20,000 KRW (small) / 30,000 KRW (large)
- Naejang suyuk (boiled offal platter): 20,000 KRW
Prices have crept up a bit in recent years, but considering how generous the portions are, it still feels fair.
If you don’t read Korean, no need to worry. The menu is short, and the owner is patient — just point at a line on the board or a dish you see on a neighboring table, hold up fingers for how many, and you’ll be set.
A side dish spread to envy
As soon as you sit down, a round metal tray arrives heavy with banchan: kimchi, raw onion, green chili peppers, garlic slices, salted shrimp, and a fiery chili paste.
The well-aged napa cabbage kimchi is the unmistakable star here. House-made, with none of that overly sweet, mass-produced taste, it pairs beautifully with the rich pork broth. I honestly considered asking for a second plate.
The headline bowl: dwaeji-gukbap
And then the main event arrives. A tall earthen bowl crowned with a generous tangle of fresh garlic chives and a sprinkle of black pepper.
Unlike the milky Busan version, Miryang-style broth is clear and light in color. But don’t let that fool you — the pork fat lends a wonderfully rich, savory depth that fills your mouth with every spoonful.
The rice is torum-style, already swirled into the broth so it arrives warm and ready. I usually prefer rice served on the side, but each grain here was so well infused with broth that I quickly came around.
Stir the chives through the soup and the whole thing turns aromatic and green-sweet.
Mix in a spoonful of the housemade chili paste to dial up the heat and depth.
Pork that feels like suyuk
The real show-stealer is the pork itself. Each slice is so thick it could pass for suyuk (boiled pork platter) on its own.
Lean meat, soft fat, and even a touch of pork skin are layered into every piece. There’s no gamey funk at all — the meat is tender but still has bite, which is a hard balance to strike.
Even friends who usually skip pork fat told me they happily ate every piece here. The owner often asks ahead about your preferences, which makes the whole meal feel a little more personal.
Beyond the classic bowl
If you come back, do branch out into the other options. The naejang-gukbap is packed with bouncy, well-cleaned offal — mostly oxori-gamtu (pork stomach) — in portions that genuinely test your appetite.
Stir in the chili paste and the broth deepens into something a touch spicier and richer.
Ttaro-gukbap keeps the rice and broth apart, perfect if you like to dip rather than swim. The soup bowl arrives crammed with thick lean meat — incredibly hearty.
Seokeo-gukbap combines pork and offal in one bowl. If you can’t decide between textures, this is the one to order.
A kitchen run with real warmth
The owner is roughly the age of my own mother. She comes out of the kitchen herself to check on every table, asking softly whether the broth tastes right and whether you’d like more.
When families bring children, she’ll often divide the soup into a smaller bowl with the spice left out. She also keeps an eye on noisy neighbors so quieter guests can enjoy their meal in peace. Her granddaughter sometimes helps out, which only adds to the feeling of stepping into a grandmother’s countryside kitchen.
My honest takeaway
You won’t find trendy plating or curated playlists here. What you will find is three decades of confident, patient cooking, generous slabs of pork, and the kind of warm, unhurried hospitality that’s getting harder to come by.
If your itinerary brings you anywhere near Hanam-eup, please save an appetite for lunch. I’m already planning to swing back the next time I visit Maneosa Temple nearby.
A quick heads-up for visitors from abroad: card payments are accepted here, as they are at almost every restaurant in Korea, so you really don’t need to carry cash. And please don’t worry about tipping — Korea simply doesn’t have a tipping culture, and the staff may actually feel a little awkward if you try to leave one.
Jeilsikdang — the bowl I’ll keep coming back for.