Making Korean Sulppang with Makgeolli and Sourdough Starter
Since my first sourdough bread a few weeks ago, I’ve made another sourdough on Christmas morning, and tried Sulppang (Korean-version sourdough) with my starter.
| Sulppang |
To make traditional Korean sulppang—steamed rice-wine bread gently lifted by fermentation—one usually begins with saeng makgeolli, unpasteurized rice wine still alive with wild yeast and lactic acid bacteria. The history of Sul-ppang is inextricably linked to the periods of hardship in mid-20th century Korea. During the post-war era and the lean years when rice was scarce, wheat flour provided by international aid became a staple. However, without the expensive commercial yeast used in Western bakeries, Korean mothers turned to Makgeolli. Because traditional Makgeolli (unfiltered rice wine) is a living beverage teeming with wild yeast and lactic acid bacteria, it served as a natural leavening agent. By mixing this spirited brew with flour and a pinch of salt and sugar, the dough would slowly swell and breathe.
But I couldn’t find saeng makgeolli in the US where I live. What fills most shelves is pasteurized—shelf-stable and the microorganisms have been stilled. So when I wanted to make sulppang, I turned to another living culture already at home: my sourdough starter. Immigrants know how to adapt.
Unlike western bread, Sulppang (술빵), literally “alcohol bread,” is steamed. The moist heat of the steamer prevents a hard crust from forming, resulting in a texture that is uniquely "elastic yet soft"—a quality Koreans describe as jjondeuk-han. Traditionally, adding black beans, peas, or corn on top was a strategic way to add protein and texture to a meal that was often the only thing on the table. I added corn and dried cranberries instead of sugar.
Making Sulppang is very similar to Sourdough Bread. The only differences are adding two cups of makgeolli instead of water and steaming the dough instead of baking in the oven.
Making sourdough Sul-ppang reminded me that cooking is a universal language. Whether you are a baker in San Francisco tending to a sourdough starter or a grandmother in a Korean village mixing Makgeolli into dough, we are all performing the same act of faith: that the invisible life around us will turn those simple materials into something that nourishes both the body and the spirit.
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