The corner mills where Seoul presses its sesame oil while you wait

In most Korean markets, somewhere between the fishmonger and the fruit stall, there is a narrow shop with a roasting drum turning in the window and a smell that carries two blocks in either direction. It is a 방앗간 (bangatgan), a neighborhood mill, and almost no visitor goes in.

What the machine is doing

You bring sesame, or buy theirs by weight, and it goes into the drum until the seeds darken and start to crack. From there it drops into a screw press that squeezes the oil out warm, so the bottle handed back to you is cloudy and still faintly above room temperature. Perilla oil (들기름, deulgireum) comes off the same press and is the one Korean households ration more carefully, since it turns within a couple of months rather than a year.

The oil is dated by the day it was pressed, not the day it was sold.

The other half of the trade

Many mills are properly 떡방앗간 (tteok-bangatgan) and steam rice cakes alongside the oil. Plain white 백설기 (baekseolgi) is ordered by the tray for the opening day of a new business, and red-bean 시루떡 (siruttteok) goes to neighbours after a move. The trays are out by mid-morning and gone by late afternoon, because nothing here is built to survive a night.

Going in

Point at the shelf and say chamgireum han byeong (참기름 한 병), one bottle of sesame oil; a small one runs somewhere around ten to fifteen thousand won and cash is still the smoothest option. Mangwon, Tongin and Gyeongdong markets in Seoul all have at least one, usually near a side entrance rather than the main aisle. Come in November and the presses are busy with chilli for 고춧가루 (gochutgaru) ahead of kimchi season, which means a queue and a different smell entirely. Whatever you buy, double-bag it and put it in checked luggage.

동네 방앗간에서는 참기름을 그날 짜서 그날 판다.