한국국제교류재단

Oiseon, a royal court delicacy, features slit cucumbers stuffed with beef, mushroom, and egg, served chilled in a lightly seasoned broth.
© Korean Food Promotion Institute

As a vegetable deeply rooted in daily language, the cucumber occupies a central place at the Korean table. It is eaten in a wide variety of forms across different regions. In the Seoul metropolitan area and the central region, the most common variety is the baekdadagi cucumber, distinguished by its smoother skin and pale green color. In the Jeolla Provinces, the jade-green chwicheong cucumber is especially popular, while in the Gyeongsang Provinces, people more commonly favor the prickly gasi cucumber. These regional varieties reflect more than simple differences in cultivation; they show how the vegetable evolved in response to local climates, tastes, and ways of life.

The word dadagi in baekdadagi cucumber, also known as the “Joseon cucumber,” is often mistaken for a loanword. In fact, it derives from a native Korean expression describing fruit that grows in tight clusters along a vine. The name itself demonstrates how closely cucumbers were connected to people’s everyday experiences. They grew within immediate view, ready to be picked and eaten straight from the field.

Cucumbers consist of approximately 95 percent water, with the remaining five percent made up of nutrients. Judged purely by their nutritional value, they may not particularly stand out. Even so, they are highly valued in summer because of their combination of abundant moisture and potassium. Human sweat contains not only water but also electrolytes such as sodium. Heavy perspiration lowers electrolyte levels, often prompting cravings for salty foods. Yet replenishment can easily turn into excess, and high sodium intake can cause water retention and bloating. Consuming cucumbers in summer not only replenishes fluids but also helps expel excess sodium through their high potassium content. As the body returns to equilibrium, one feels lighter and refreshed. This sensation is not merely subjective; it’s an instance of homeostasis, the body’s active effort to maintain internal stability. Cucumbers are therefore valued less for concentrated nutrition than for their capacity to restore balance.

This quality is also reflected in the way cucumbers are eaten. They are typically consumed raw and require almost no preparation. Other staple vegetables — onions, garlic, and scallions, for example — are usually cooked, and even when eaten fresh, they are rarely consumed whole. Napa cabbage is usually made into kimchi; potatoes and sweet potatoes are typically cooked; and carrots and bell peppers require peeling, trimming, or slicing before they are consumed. Cucumbers, by contrast, need little more than a quick rinse, which makes them a popular choice on a hot summer day. Biting into a cucumber freshly washed in cold water instantly quenches thirst and relieves the heat. For this reason, hikers often carry them as a substitute for water.

Cucumbers are prized not only for their high water content but also for their natural cooling properties. The moment one bites into a cucumber, a sensation of coolness spreads across the palate and lingers. This sensory experience is shared across diverse cultures. In East Asia, such properties were historically understood through the cosmological framework of yin and yang and the five elements. In English, the idiom “cool as a cucumber” likewise draws upon the vegetable’s refreshing qualities to describe someone who remains calm and composed under pressure. Here again, a physical sensation found its way into language.

Due to their cooling nature, cucumbers have long been regarded as an essential summer food. Fittingly, they thrive under intense sunlight and in abundant moisture. The fact that this quintessential heat-relieving vegetable flourishes during the hottest months of the year suggests how closely the rhythms of the human body remain intertwined with those of nature.

Oisobagi is a summer kimchi made by stuffing cucumbers with seasoned vegetables before fermentation. References in Joseon-period texts show it has long been a seasonal favorite.
© Korea Tourism Organization

Today, napa cabbage is available year-round, allowing kimchi to be made in any season. Traditionally, however, kimchi production followed the strict logic of seasonal agriculture. In spring, kimchi was made with spring greens such as dandelion, water parsley, wild chives, and stonecrop. In summer, young radishes, young napa cabbage, perilla leaves, chili peppers, and cucumbers became the principal ingredients. Regional agricultural conditions also gave rise to local varieties, such as soybean leaf kimchi and mustard leaf kimchi in the Gyeongsang and Jeolla Provinces, respectively. Over time, the practice of preserving seasonal, locally available produce expanded the repertoire of kimchi into the hundreds of varieties known today.

Within this tradition, oisobagi (stuffed cucumber kimchi) is more than a simple side dish; it’s a culinary form born directly from the summer season. The term sobagi refers to a technique of stuffing a filling into a main ingredient, encompassing both the method and the finished dish. Historically, sobagi was also prepared with eggplants, radishes, and chili peppers. Over time, however, cucumbers became the dominant ingredient, making sobagi virtually synonymous with stuffed cucumber kimchi.

Salting cucumbers whole before stuffing them preserves both their moisture and crisp texture. Yet cucumber kimchi is poorly suited to longterm storage. Since they contain so much water, cucumbers soften and ferment quickly, and are therefore usually eaten within a few days. But there is another dish with a longer shelf life —oiji (pickled cucumbers). Whole cucumbers are submerged in dry salt, brine, or soy sauce-based mixtures, allowing osmosis to draw out moisture while salt permeates the skin. The resulting salinity enables oiji to be safely stored for long periods, even during the heat of summer.

When Koreans think of preserved foods, the traditional winter kimchi-making custom of gimjang often comes to mind. This involves gathering late-autumn vegetables, curing them with salt, and beginning the fermentation process. Yet oiji demonstrates that summer preservation practices also existed. Rather than relying primarily on fermentation, people turned to salting to withstand the season’s high temperatures.

Oiji can be enjoyed in a number of ways, either plain after rinsing away excess salt or seasoned with various condiments. They are also sliced into chilled soups to lend a subtle salinity, and in some cases the pickling brine itself is used as a soup base. Just as winter kimchi finds new life in stews and braised dishes, oiji extends its culinary presence into refreshing summer soups. In this sense, the cucumber encompasses two distinct traditions of preservation: fermentation and mere salting; it works well both as a kimchi and a pickle.

A Korean saying describes rapid growth as occurring “like cucumbers thickening during the rainy season.” The expression reflects the vegetable’s vigorous growth in dense clusters under favorable conditions. Cucumbers flourish on the Korean peninsula during summer, nourished by abundant sunlight and moisture, and have therefore long been a common and accessible crop.

Yet ubiquity does not necessarily inspire universal affection. Cucumbers are, in fact, deeply polarizing. People who are particularly sensitive to the compounds responsible for their bitterness may experience a strong sensory aversion. Studies suggest that many people possess a genetic predisposition that heightens sensitivity to these compounds. The idiom “to look at someone as though they were a bitter cucumber” suggests that such reactions have been shared across generations. Once again, the physical experience of eating cucumbers is mirrored in language.

Although cucumbers are now generally associated with raw consumption, they were often cooked in earlier periods. At the royal court, a delicacy known as oiseon (yet another stuffed cucumber dish) was served. Salted cucumbers were briefly stir-fried over high heat, then filled with sautéed beef, egg garnish, and vegetables. In Buddhist temple cuisine, cucumber soybean paste soup remains a popular summer dish. The combination of hot broth and the cucumber’s inherently cooling flavor creates a striking sensory contrast. Preparation methods may differ, but the cucumber’s distinctively refreshing character remains constant across contexts and generations.