The sea and coastal cliffs of Tongyeong, Gyeongsangnam-do (province), paint a landscape of dramatic beauty. The waters are generally calm, but around Hansando and Maemuldo, tides can quicken and waves rise high depending on the terrain.
With such ever-shifting moods, Tongyeong defies being summed up as a single topography. Watching its waters calm just moments after a fierce surge fills one with awe for nature’s quiet power.
However Tongyeong’s true charm reveals itself most vividly on the plate. Situated on the cultural seam between Gyeongsang and Jeolla-do, the city blends the culinary traditions of both.
Its seas are rich with seasonal treasures—oysters, sea squirts, red sea bream, eel—all year round. Longstanding exchanges with countries like Japan have also widened and deepened its culinary identity. There’s a complex, lingering savor to Tongyeong’s food that resists being captured by a simple “delicious.” Locals call it ge-mi.
Ge-mi is, put simply, the flavor that ought to be there—the salty finish that lingers long after a bite, the hidden sweetness that gently rests on the tongue. And if there’s anyone who understands ge-mi better than most, it might be Chef Jang Ho-joon. He always speaks with pride of being from Tongyeong. Perhaps what he really wants to say is that he’s someone who knows ge-mi—deeply and instinctively.
He grew up eating the seafood of Tongyeong. His mother ran a restaurant, and from an early age, he learned not just to appreciate flavor, but to work with his hands. Long before he mastered seasoning, he fell in love with the craft of handling ingredients, the tactile process of creating something from scratch. That sense—that cooking begins at the fingertips—was his first real culinary lesson.
These days, his obsession is crustaceans, especially crab. Beneath their hard shells lies delicate, sweet flesh and a deep briny richness in the tomalley. They’re deeply flavorful ingredients, but because they require effort to prepare, they’re often overlooked. Wondering how to make crustaceans more approachable, Jang opened “Negi Live” in Seoul’s Seongsu neighborhood.
As the name suggests, this crustacean-themed restaurant breathes vitality into every ingredient. Watching king crab or snow crab broken down right before your eyes turns dining into a kind of performance. The process feels more like watching a show than simply eating a meal.
The way the dish builds—from the aroma of the shells to the crescendo of flavor in the flesh and innards—has a sense of rhythm, even drama. And by using seasonal ingredients, the dishes evoke a sense of time and place.
One standout from the spring menu is the Chilled Webfoot Octopus and Ark Shell in Sumiso Sauce. The octopus, slow-cooked at 55 degrees Celsius, is firm yet tender; the ark shell gently releases its marine aroma. The sumiso—a dressing of egg yolk, white miso, vinegar, and mustard—adds richness and acidity, capturing spring in a single bite. A hint of wasabi flower cuts through any fishiness, while roasted pine nuts leave a warm, nutty echo. It’s cool on the surface, but bright and warm underneath—much like spring in Tongyeong.
Another highlight is Grilled Snow Crab with Beurre Blanc Sauce. The crab is charcoal-grilled, its shell perfumed with smoke, and topped with a butter sauce made from shiitake and button mushrooms. It’s a dish that seems to stand on the border of land and sea. Vinegar in the sauce lightens the butter, while the crab meat melts away softly on the tongue. It’s a pairing that’s bold and intuitive, yet far from simple. If taste could define ge-mi, this would be it.
Chef Jang’s philosophy going forward is clear: dishes that are simple but strong, intuitive but never shallow. In every dish, he wants ge-mi to speak. And behind it, always, will be the landscapes and ingredients of his hometown, Tongyeong. Word is, he’s currently planning a new concept centered on grilled conger eel—a beloved local delicacy—set somewhere along the coast of Tongyeong. One day, perhaps, you’ll find it there, by the sea.
―Could you briefly introduce yourself?
“I’m Jang Ho-joon, born and raised in Tongyeong. I’ve been cooking for nearly 20 years now, mostly in Japanese cuisine. Since I’m from Tongyeong, I think I was naturally influenced by both Korean and Japanese culinary traditions.”
―What made you start cooking?
“I think I’ve always been surrounded by an abundance of good food. And I liked working with my hands from a young age. My grandfather was a carpenter, so whenever I visited him, I enjoyed playing with wood. Eventually, I fell for the charm of cooking, but I think I was more drawn to color and composition than taste at first. It was the act of creating something that fascinated me.”
―What’s the appeal of food from Tongyeong?
“The ingredients—there are so many amazing ones. I always miss that. The seafood is incredibly abundant. Looking back, I didn’t realize how special it was at the time, but now that I work in this field, I realize just how lucky I was to grow up eating like that. It’s a warm region, so the food tends to have a higher salt content, and that brings out a unique depth of flavor. Think of things like salted fish and anchovy extract—that’ll give you an idea.”
―What kind of place is Negi Live?
“Negi Live is a space where I can express myself fully as a chef. There are so many great chefs out there, so it took me a while to decide on this concept. I wanted to serve premium crustaceans like snow crab and king crab at a more accessible price. I also want to highlight the charm of seasonal ingredients and fresh vegetables. Guests can watch everything from prep to cooking. It’s not every day you see crabs being cleaned right in front of you—people love that. I hope people enjoy it not just as a meal, but like watching a live performance.”
―What’s so appealing about crustaceans?
“Mainly their aroma—it’s incredibly impactful. The only downside is that they’re hard to eat because of all the shell cracking. But at Negi Live, we take care of all that. We serve the meat fully picked. What’s interesting about crustaceans is that the meat, the innards, and the shells each offer different flavors. The meat is rich and soft, the tomalley is packed with umami, and roasting the shells intensifies the aroma. I think that complexity is what makes them so compelling.”
―Where do you draw inspiration for your dishes?
“I look at a lot of images, especially photos. Even when I pick up cookbooks in Italian or French—languages I can’t read—I get ideas from the visuals. Then I think about how to reinterpret that in my own way: what textures to aim for, what kind of sauce to use. These days, I’m trying to simplify things. When I was younger, I wanted to make dishes so complex no one could copy them. Now I find myself taking things away.”
―What do you focus on most when developing new dishes?
“First and foremost, it has to be delicious. That’s the baseline. Beyond that, I think visual impact, color, and plating are also very important. Food isn’t just about the taste—it’s a multi-sensory experience. Sight, smell, touch—they all matter. Since we eat with our eyes first, I try to make dishes visually satisfying. You know what they say: good-looking food tastes better.” (laughs)
―What matters most to you when you’re cooking?
“If you’re a chef, you should be able to make the less desirable parts taste just as good. Anyone can cook with prime cuts and make something delicious. Take sea bream, for example—the belly is already tasty, so just grilling it does the job. But the tail or innards take technique. Being able to elevate those parts—that’s what makes a real chef.”
―How would you describe your personal cooking style?
“I personally enjoy bolder, saltier flavors. I put a lot of importance on the umami that comes from salt. In Gyeongsang-do, we often use a dialect word called ge-mi. People say, ‘This has ge-mi,’ or ‘It doesn’t.’ That’s the sensation I want my food to give.”
―Is there a dish that you feel reflects your life?
“Tongyeong’s sirak-guk (a soup made with dried radish greens) comes to mind. It’s a dish you can adjust however you like—add chives, seaweed, sancho pepper, soy sauce. I’ve gone through a lot of trial and error in life, and I’ve always tried to adapt. That soup feels like me. And when you order it at restaurants, it usually comes out quickly—that urgency kind of reflects my personality too. (laughs) I think the warm, humble image of Tongyeong shows in me a little.”
―If your journey were a scale from 1 to 10, where are you now?
“Probably around a 3 or 4. Honestly, it’s been a tough road up until now. I’d like the rest of the journey to be a bit more relaxed. I think I’ve lived a little too obsessively, going through multiple ventures.”
―What’s your favorite ingredient?
“Sea eel. I think sea eel can represent Tongyeong. I’m planning to open a restaurant in Tongyeong with that as the main focus someday. I want to share the food I love. I’m also toying with the idea of opening a Korean-style hot pot restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. As a Korean, I’d love to localize something like dak hanmari (a whole chicken hot pot) for that market.”
―Lastly, any final words for our readers?
“I might look a little rough on the outside, but I hope people find me approachable. I try to be friendly, which is why I even started a YouTube channel. I want to come off like someone who’d cook for you if you ran into me at a campsite. I also want to make the restaurant feel welcoming and relaxed. I hope people show interest and come by.”
