Kimjang did not begin as a cosy autumn ritual; it began as a blunt response to winter scarcity, when vegetables disappeared and survival depended on what you had already buried in the ground. Before it was branded as “heritage” or “culture,” it was nutritional infrastructure: jars of salted cabbage and radish holding enough fibre, acidity, and salt to carry people through months of cold. Only later did the work of hauling, brining, and packing become a communal event, because sharing labour and food was the simplest technology humans had for staying alive together.

Outside Korea, kimchi grilled cheese is treated like a quirky mash-up: a little bit Korean, a little bit American, a safe way to say you’re into “fusion” without having to learn much about either cuisine. In Korea, though, kimchi is not a novelty ingredient waiting to be melted into cheese; it is the background noise of daily life, the thing that sits on the table so reliably that nobody would dream of centering it in a cheese sandwich. Sharing the kimchi grilled cheese recipe I make for my family, the kind of sandwich that really could only have been invented far away from the place that made kimchi possible.

Most people outside Korea learn that kimchi is “spicy fermented cabbage,” a neat little definition that sounds correct enough to repeat at dinner parties but not quite right enough to live with every day. For Koreans, kimchi is less a single recipe and more a whole category of salty, sour, breathing foods that change with season, region, and what is actually in the kitchen that week. The real question, then, isn’t what kimchi is in English, but what Koreans mean when we say the word at all.

Every spring the woods announce themselves before you see them: the sharp, green scent of wild garlic rising from the forest floor, telling you winter is finally over. From late March to June we turn those fleeting leaves into wild garlic kimchi—fresh, deeply savoury and alive, fermented with chilli and sea salt so you can keep a little piece of spring in your fridge, long after the woods have gone quiet again.

These kimchi pancakes are thin, crispy-edged and full of savoury, tangy flavour, built from well-fermented kimchi, spring onion and courgette folded into a light batter. The trick is simple: use kimchi juice, icy-cold water and plenty of oil so each pancake fries up lacy and crisp, ready to dip into a sharp soy-vinegar sauce or swipe through a quick vegan kimchi mayo.

We’ve spent the last month quietly settling into our new railway arch kitchen in Camberwell, Southwark, a space that felt right from the moment we stepped through its red door. The high roof, fresh refurbishment and roomy layout have given Kimchi and Radish the kind of home we’d only talked about before, and we’re slowly shaping it into the kitchen we imagined back in June. None of this would be possible without our customers, trader friends and fellow makers; your encouragement, honest feedback and everyday love for kimchi keep us growing, batch by batch.

My name is Jihyun “Kimmy” Kim, a Seoul-born chef who grew up at a table crowded with kimchi and other fermented foods, and somehow ended up making small-batch kimchi in South East London. Kimchi & Radish began in 2018 with 20 jars and one traditional recipe at a local farmers’ market; today we make seven styles, from extra hot to beetroot and wild garlic, thanks to curious customers, thoughtful feedback and a shared belief that kimchi should taste alive.

Lacto-fermentation is a way of preserving vegetables using only salt, water and time, creating a salty brine where friendly lactobacillus bacteria thrive while harmful microbes cannot. As they slowly turn sugars into lactic acid, they give food its tangy flavour, make it easier to digest and help your body absorb more nutrients, supporting gut health, immunity, energy levels and even mood.

Hello, I’m a Wiltshire-based commercial photographer specialising in interiors, food and product imagery, with roots in Spain and a bit of West Country in my voice. I work with small and medium businesses and property managers across Bath, Bristol, London, Spain and beyond, tailoring my style to everything from cosy holiday homes to new fermented food launches. In a world where so much business now happens online, I help independents present their products in the best possible light, whether that means clean, technical e‑commerce shots or creatively styled, recipe-led food photography. If you’re ready to talk about your goals and how strong imagery can support them, drop me a line and let’s start the conversation.

Behind the scenes on how we take photos of our product with Photographer LUIS MULET