Surime: A Royal Silla Table in Gyeongju

Soy sauce is not treated as a seasoning, but as time itself. We use soy sauce aged for more than twelve years, never rushed and never adjusted to speed. It is allowed to settle slowly, so depth forms without sharpness, letting the food breathe rather than be overtaken by salt. The soy sauce jars are placed facing west, where sunlight remains steady and temperature changes are gentle. This direction supports natural air circulation and even fermentation, without forcing the process. The aim is not intensity, but balance—an aging that unfolds quietly over years. From long-aged soy sauce to broths simmered for more than thirty-six hours, our cooking follows the same principle. Flavor is not meant to fill the body, but to ease it. What remains after the meal should feel light, shaped by time rather than technique. This is how we continue the philosophy of Korean cuisine—through patience, restraint, and trust in fermentation.

The table begins long before the meal itself. Jang, Korea’s traditional fermented sauces, are slowly aged under sun and wind, forming the foundation of the food. More than seasoning, they are treated as living ingredients shaped by time, climate, and care, quietly guiding balance without explanation. From these aged jang, seasonal banchan are prepared. In-house pickles, simply dressed vegetables, and small dishes arranged with restraint come together as a single table. The focus is not on abundance, but on clarity—allowing each flavor to remain distinct while staying connected to the whole. When the banchan are set and steam rises from freshly cooked rice, the depth of Korean flavor is felt before words are needed. Ingredients shaped by time, food grounded in tradition, and a meal that speaks first through taste—these are the details meant to linger long after the table is cleared.

At Surime, many of our daily rituals begin with quiet gestures—sweeping the courtyard, preparing warm broth, or lighting the room with soft morning colors. These moments reflect the Korean way of welcoming guests: calm, intentional, and rooted in tradition. Recently, a small companion has joined these scenes.  Her name is Suri. She wanders between the jangdok jars and sunlit steps, becoming part of the gentle rhythm that surrounds our kitchen. In a place where craftsmanship and philosophy guide the day, Suri has already grown into a symbol of the warmth we hope visitors feel when they arrive. Suri’s presence also carries something we value deeply at Surime: the harmony between nature, everyday life, and Korean hospitality. She reminds us that a traditional Korean restaurant is not only defined by its recipes, but also by the atmosphere shaped by people, animals, and the landscape around us.  As we prepare for our opening in Gyeongju—a city known for its history, temples, and ...

Korean meals often carry quiet moments of hospitality, and at Surime, we like to leave small traces of that warmth throughout the space. Near the entrance, you may notice a small earthen pot filled with familiar old-style snacks—pieces many Koreans grew up tasting, often shared between neighbors or tucked into pockets on the way home from school. These traditional treats are simple things: light crackers with a hint of sweetness, cinnamon candies that melt slowly with a warm, comforting aroma, and nostalgic bites that bring back the mood of another time.  They aren’t meant to be elaborate desserts, but small gestures that reflect the way Korean flavors often continue beyond the meal itself—gentle, unhurried, and quietly affectionate. If they catch your eye, feel free to enjoy a piece. They’re set out for anyone who visits, a small way of sharing Korea’s everyday tastes with those who travel far to find them. At Surime, even the smallest flavors are part of the experience we hope ...

Korean cuisine is rooted in the quiet richness of traditional ingredients—mountain herbs, dried bark, fermented pastes, and seasonal vegetables that hold the flavor of the land. At Surime in Gyeongju, we honor these elements by treating them not as simple additions but as essential notes that define each dish. Our slow-cooking approach brings depth to the table. Even a single broth or marinade carries layers of dried tree bark, fruits, and long-aged Korean fermented sauces, creating flavors that cannot be rushed or replicated. What appears modest on the surface often reflects months of preparation and generations of culinary practice. This is the philosophy behind Surime: a Gyeongju restaurant where traditional Korean cooking meets patience, craft, and time. Every meal becomes a gentle archive of regional ingredients and slow cooking, inviting guests to experience the deeper story behind Korean food culture.

We like to close each meal at Surimoe with something quiet and thoughtful. Today, we offered a small piece of carrot jeonggwa, gently simmered over a long time until its natural sweetness settled into the soft texture. Jeonggwa is not simply a sweet bite; it is a small craft shaped by time and hands. We wait for the carrots to reach their best season, simmer them slowly to preserve their tenderness, and finish with a delicate glaze. It is a humble process, but one that requires attention and intention. We hope this little dessert brings a calm finish to your meal and lingers lightly as you leave the table. Alongside it, we continue to present a variety of seasonal Korean desserts as the year turns.

Autumn settles gently over Gyeongju, casting a warm light across the courtyard of Surime. Before the day begins, we sweep the ground and prepare each space with quiet care. The crisp air and golden leaves remind us that every season brings its own rhythm, and hospitality, too, has its seasons. Surime is a traditional Korean restaurant where the flow of time can be felt in each detail — in the scent of rice steaming, the shine of earthenware, and the stillness before guests arrive. We believe that true hanjeongsik is not only about flavors but about creating moments that rest softly in memory, like sunlight on wood. As more guests visit this autumn, we are deeply grateful and committed to making every stay more comfortable. The courtyard may hold a bit of chill, but our hope is that every meal here carries warmth enough to linger long after the day ends.