Moa Sikpum in Euljiro: Outdoor BBQ and Soju Done Right

The first warm afternoon of the year in Seoul does something to people. The puffy jackets disappear overnight, the alleys of Euljiro start smelling like grilled fat and charcoal again, and the blue plastic tables that were stacked away all winter come back out onto the sidewalk. This is what we call yajang (야장) — literally “outdoor seating” — and for a lot of Koreans, it’s the unofficial start of the good months.

I’d been seeing Moa Sikpum (모아식품) pop up on Korean YouTube for a while. It’s one of those Euljiro spots people film with shaky phone footage at golden hour, soju bottles clinking, the whole vibe. So on a public holiday afternoon, I went to see if it was worth the noise.

It was.

Why Moa Sikpum?

Euljiro (을지로) — pronounced eul-ji-ro — is a neighborhood in central Seoul that used to be all hardware shops, printing presses, and tool wholesalers. Over the last decade or so, young Koreans have been carving out bars and BBQ joints in between those old workshops, keeping the gritty, slightly industrial backdrop intact. We call this aesthetic nopo (노포) energy when it’s an old-school place, or just “Euljiro mood” when it’s the newer crowd. Moa Sikpum sits comfortably in that overlap.

What makes it specifically worth coming to:

• It does both beef and pork belly, which is rarer than you’d think. Most BBQ joints commit to one.
• The yajang setup is the real draw. Grilling outside on a wobbly table next to a corrugated metal shutter is, weirdly, the entire point.
• It’s affordable for what you get. Two of us walked out having eaten well and drunk a lot for around 62,000 KRW (~$48 USD).

If you’ve only ever had Korean BBQ at a polished restaurant in Seoul’s Gangnam district — or, honestly, in Koreatown LA — this is a different category of experience. Less ventilation hood, more open sky.

Getting There

Google Map: https://maps.app.goo.gl/hYBf9mdZmqk5VcnF6

 

 

Moa Sikpum is in the Euljiro 3-ga area, walkable from Euljiro 3-ga Station (을지로3가역) on Subway Line 2 or Line 3 — figure about a 5-minute walk depending on which exit you take. From Seoul Station, it’s roughly 10 minutes by subway. From Myeongdong, you can honestly just walk over in 15 minutes.

The shop itself is easy to miss if you’re looking for restaurant signage. During yajang hours, follow the blue tables and the smell of grilling fat. That’s the navigation system.

Hours (important, because they’re specific)

This is the part you need to know before showing up:

• Sunday: closed. Don’t even try.
• Saturday and public holidays: yajang from 1 PM
• Weekdays: yajang from 6 PM

I went on a public holiday around 3:30 PM, and the outdoor tables were already filling up but not full. If you want a yajang seat on a Saturday in spring or early summer, I’d get there by 2 PM at the latest.

How the Ordering Works (and Why You Should Care)

Here’s the part that catches some foreign visitors off guard, so I want to walk through it.

When you arrive, tell the staff you want to sit outside (밖에서 먹을게요 — bakkeseo meogeulgeyo). They’ll set up a table for you with the portable Suntouch gas burner, the grill plate, and the banchan once you order meat. The setup happens after you order — not before — so don’t be confused if the table looks bare at first.

Soju is self-serve. There’s a tall fridge inside, glowing purple and pink, packed with rows of Chamisul, Chum-Churum, Saero, and a few makgeolli bottles up top. You just walk over, grab whatever you want, bring it back to your table, and drink. When you pay at the end, the staff counts the empties and adds them to the bill. It runs on the honor system, and nobody seems to abuse it.

A quick note on the soju varieties for anyone unfamiliar:

• Chamisul (참이슬) — the classic, slightly cleaner taste
• Chum-Churum (처음처럼) — a touch softer, slightly sweeter
• Saero (새로) — newer, made without added sugar, smoother for people who don’t love the medicinal bite of regular soju

A bottle runs around 4,000–5,000 KRW (~$3–$4 USD) at most yajang spots like this. We had four bottles between us, which is normal-to-moderate for a Korean drinking session. Not heroic, not light.

One caveat: there’s no picture menu, and no English menu. This is genuinely the case at most authentic Euljiro spots. If you don’t read Korean, screenshot the key items below and just point. The staff are used to it.

What We Ate

We ordered beef sirloin (소 등심) 300g and pork belly (삼겹살) 300g. That’s a solid amount for two people who also want to drink.

The beef

The sirloin came out deeply marbled, ribbons of white fat running through dark crimson muscle. They sliced it thick — not paper-thin like at a shabu place, but substantial enough that you actually chew it. On the cast iron grill plate, it took maybe 90 seconds per side to get a proper sear without overcooking the inside.

The taste: beefy in the way that only Korean BBQ beef gets, with that faint, almost milky sweetness from the fat. No marinade, no sauce — just salt and the dipping plate. You don’t need anything else.

The banchan setup was generous: napa cabbage kimchi, chili-coated green onion or chonggak kimchi, soy-braised quail eggs (memchuri-al jangjorim — small, glossy, salty-sweet), pickled perilla stems in soy brine (an underrated banchan that cuts through fatty meat beautifully), peeled raw garlic, gochujang, and a basket of fresh leaf lettuce for ssam (wrapping).

The ssam ritual, if you haven’t done it: take a lettuce leaf, put a piece of grilled meat on it, add a sliver of garlic, a dab of gochujang or ssamjang, maybe a piece of kimchi, fold it into a bite, and eat the whole thing in one go. Eating it in two bites is, culturally speaking, slightly amateur. (I won’t enforce this, but it’s the rule.)

The pork belly

We grilled the pork belly second, which is the right order — beef first while your palate is fresh, pork belly later when you’re a few soju bottles in and want something heartier.

These were thick slices of samgyeopsal with clean alternating bands of pink and white. On the grill, they rendered out enough fat to crisp the edges while staying juicy in the middle. The closest American comparison would be a really good thick-cut bacon, but unsmoked and not cured — just pork, fat, and fire.

Dipped in the salt-and-sesame-oil sauce, wrapped in lettuce with a piece of garlic that had been roasted in the rendered pork fat on the side of the grill — this is one of those things I genuinely think Korea does better than anywhere else. Not because the technique is complicated, but because the whole system around it (the banchan, the ssam, the soju) is built to make pork belly feel like a complete meal rather than a heavy slab.

Atmosphere: Who Should Come Here

This is not a date spot if your date is uncomfortable with grit. The backdrop is a corrugated metal shutter and a concrete pillar. The table is bright blue plastic. People at the next table will be loud. You will smell like smoke when you leave.

This is a great spot for:

• A small group of friends (2–4 people is ideal)
• Travelers who want to see what regular Koreans actually do on a Saturday afternoon
• Anyone who’s already done the polished BBQ experience and wants the rougher, more honest version
• People who genuinely enjoy drinking outdoors

Solo diners would feel a little awkward here, honestly — yajang is built for groups and conversation. If you’re traveling alone, find a buddy from your hostel.

Price and Value

 

Our final bill: 62,000 KRW (~$48 USD) for 300g beef sirloin, 300g pork belly, and 4 bottles of soju, including the banchan setup.

For reference, an equivalent meal at a mid-tier Korean BBQ chain in Gangnam would easily run 90,000–120,000 KRW (~$70–$92 USD) for two people. At a hanwoo specialty restaurant, you could spend that much on the beef alone. So Moa Sikpum is delivering real value, especially considering you’re paying partly for the experience and not just the protein.

This is also why I want to gently push back on the idea that all Korean BBQ in Seoul has to be expensive. It doesn’t. The best ones often aren’t.

Tips Before You Go

A few things I’d want to know if I were visiting:

• No reservations. It’s walk-in only. Plan for a possible short wait on weekends.
• Cash or card both work, but card is fine — this isn’t one of those old-school cash-only places.
• Wear clothes you don’t mind smelling like grilled meat. The smoke gets into everything outdoors.
• Don’t go if it’s raining. Yajang doesn’t really work under tarps, and the indoor seats are limited.
• Bring a light jacket in spring or fall — Seoul evenings cool down fast even when the afternoon was warm.
• If you don’t drink, that’s totally fine, but the experience is a little incomplete without at least a beer. Cass or Terra both pair well with the meat.

One last thing: places like Moa Sikpum exist on a spectrum of “famous on YouTube” that can sometimes mean “overhyped and now mediocre.” This one, at least as of my visit, hasn’t crossed that line. The food is still honest, the prices are still fair, and the staff still let you grab your own soju from the fridge without making it weird.

That’s worth something. Especially in Euljiro, where the whole appeal is that nothing has been over-polished yet.